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I have always been depressed. Looking back on my childhood, through all my memories, although at times I was happy. Deep deep down, I was always sad. I am 18 now and it took me a long time to be able to fully admit to myself that I have something wrong with me. But with me, having this problem is just who I am. I am not less of a person because I have depression or because I want to die, I am still a human being who deserves everything a “normal person” would get.
I finally noticed how bad I got when I was a junior in high school. Sophomore year was one of the happiest times of my life. So obviously when junior year came around, I thought I would be happy too. But then I noticed everything that I was capable of in sophomore year, I just could not do anymore. I used to read all the time in sophomore year but when I was a junior, I don't think I picked up a book at all. (unless required for school work). I slept a lot more then too. It was my coping mechanism. A bad one but it takes time to create a healthy mechanism.
Senior year was different. During the summer I went out with friends, forced myself to get out of my house. Was making myself leave my house bad? Some days I hated myself for it, wanting nothing but to crawl under my covers and sleep my day away. Some days I was glad. If I didn't hang out with my friends, they wouldn't have been there to tell me I needed help. They were actually the ones who encouraged it. Without them, I probably would be dead.
There is an ongoing joke among students. This phrase called senioritis. People blamed my laziness and unwillingness on senioritis, but really? I was depressed. I think I cried almost every day during that time of my life. I used to get good grades. Not straight A's of course but grades like B’s and C’s. But during senior year I ended up getting a lot of F’s. I almost was held back. But yet when people asked me why I couldn't respond the way I wanted to. When my cousins and friends told my parents, I was depressed and borderline suicidal, all they said was it was a phase. I would get over it. If I worked harder, I would be better. Etc. etc.
If I couldn't even rely on my own family…. who would be there for me?
Eventually, I turned my life around. I somehow got into my dream college with a full ride scholarship! That happiness lasted about a week and a half, and then I was me again. I slept less this year though, mainly because I got a job. With a job meant I could actually go out and do things any 17-year-old can do! But, I didn't. Obviously, there was a change. I did go out more than usual but at the same time, I felt trapped. I was in a routine that I hated but had to do because it was the right thing for an “adult."
But I did it! I somehow graduated, went to prom, and even my dream school! Where I am now, typing this. I wish I could say it got better. That’s a sentence used to be dramatic. It did get better. I made new friends. I have awesome classes and teachers and people who support me. For a while, I thought I was all set. I was happy.
But the darkness started to cloud my mind again. Today it is November 6. From September to now, I was happy. And I foolishly thought I was in the clear, but I guess not. I broke my routine though. I impulsively quit my job and got a new one all in the span of a week. This one I am not proud of, but I skipped a lot of my classes and fucked those up. I have a lot of coping mechanisms for what I’m feeling but most are bad. I wish I could say this has a happy end, but it doesn't. I’m better but sad. And this is no surprise.