I’ve always known I was emotionally different but I never really thought about the words Depression and Anxiety until I was roughly 7-8 months pregnant with my first baby back in 2010.
My story begins further back when I was a teenager though. I had no idea what mental health was or that depression was real. I was a cutter. Now before you assume ‘Oh this girl cuts, and she wants to end her life’ yeah, I’ve had suicidal thoughts, still have them from time to time, but cutting wasn’t about ending my life, it was more for control. Situations would happen and be out of my control, I used cutting to inflict pain on myself, to see the blood leave my cut and it would symbolize my pain leaving me. Messed up right? But for me, it was normal. One of my closest friends threatened to tell my parents if I didn’t stop, so for a long time I had stopped. I’ve had slip ups , because let’s be honest, something that is used as a coping mechanism is hard to just stop. I have periods of time where I don’t think about cutting and times where it’s all I can think about. My last cut was Christmas 2014, the worst I’ve ever inflicted on myself and it scared me.
Living with depression has to be one of the most annoying things I’ve dealt with. It’s frustrating to want to change my life from what it is but not being able to actually do something about it. I am an emotional person. I can’t understand why I sit and cry about how my life is. I feel like I should be grateful that I am still here; I have my health and the most amazing son I could ask for. People that don’t struggle daily with mental illness just don’t get it. It’s not as easy to change your life as everyone makes it seem to be I’ve fallen into a rut and I just can’t seem to lift my head up. I have become fake about my emotions, posting happy things online to make everyone else think that I am okay. Pictures of me smiling and having fun when I am so torn up about what has happened in the past 2 years alone.
I feel pathetic writing my feelings and thoughts about my story. Someone, somewhere has it worse than me and it just eats at me that I am complaining and whining about myself. I am not dying. I had a great childhood. My son is healthy.
My son’s father left me. My ex walked away from me and my son after he got me pregnant. 2 weeks later, I lost the baby. I don’t trust anything any man says to me. Apparently, I am not worth it. They all want me until they actually get me. Then they walk away and leave in the worst ways.
I hate depression, it is nothing but a liar but I let the lies control my life. I feel like I am worthless. I treat myself horribly. I treat my friends and people I care about like shit. All I want most days is to curl up and forget I am even alive. My son, my perfect 4-year-old little boy deserves so much better than a mommy who can barely take care of herself. Sometimes I wonder why on Earth someone so amazing was given to me. Then I remember that no matter how shitty I feel, no matter how many times I want to end my life, I can’t. He needs me. My life isn’t worth living in my eyes but to him, I am his hero. I am his mommy and he needs me.
I don’t even know what I am typing anymore. I am sitting at my screen, barely able to type through the tears. This is impossible to write something when there is so much back story that explains so much. I just don’t feel like any of this is important.
When did I become like this? How did I go from having a job, money, friends to being this way. Why me? Why can’t I just snap the fuck out of this? Why must I sit here feeling sorry for myself? I’m so mad that I turned out like this. People say I am a strong woman for what I’ve been through…I say why can’t I just man the fuck up and get my life back. Stop being lazy and start making decisions. I guess truth be told, I am scared to commit. I stopped running and committed to my sons father, he walked away. I trusted and committed myself to my ex, he walked away. I am scared to get a job because I have been out of work for 4 years, what if I fail? Again. I am scared to apply to college because what if I fail at that too? I failed at creating life…and even though logically it’s not my fault that I miscarried my second baby, I failed at providing a healthy safe home for my baby to grow and it’s just not fair. I am a good person and just when I think things will look up I am reminded…it won’t, not for me anyways.
It’s so easy for me to talk to my friends about their mental health and try to help them get through things but why can’t I just help myself?
Everyone always says “Time heals all wounds” or some bullshit like that, and even though it’s probably true, everyday I feel pain. I am just getting better at hiding it.
I don’t take medication to help, I probably should but I don’t. I don’t want to take a pill to numb myself for the rest of my life. They make me sick and I have a hard time swallowing pills. I’d rather light up a joint, feel that band-aid be put on, be able to play with my son, cook and get things done.
I just wish I could wake up and not be sad anymore.
Jessica is a 26-year-old mama, diagnosed with depression, anxiety and borderline personality disorder since 2010. She is an aspiring photographer at Fuerst Click Photographer. You can find her work on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/FuerstClickPhotography