It is deathly quiet in my apartment, just like always. Every night I come home to silence, no one to greet me ‘hello’ or a ‘how was your day’. My father left my family when I was only a baby, and my mother was a bad influence, so my aunt decided to take custody of me and my little sister. Living with my aunt was a blast, my little sister and I always had fun there. Only a couple years of living with her, my aunt and little sister passed away because of a car accident. Now it is just me in this dark, lonely apartment. Each day is a living struggle for me... I have no one, with the exceptions of my constant companions: anxiety and depression. I am never left alone; they are akin to two people living inside of my head. Depression feels like I am trapped in a dark hole, with someone screeching horrible words at me; while anxiety makes me feel like I am losing my mind. Putting these two together makes my life a living nightmare. …show more content…
My breathing became rapid, and I was struggling for air. After ten minutes of non-stop crying, my breathing slowly returned to normal. My eyes were swollen and too heavy to hold open, and before I realized it, I fell asleep. Cold, hard cement floor is all I feel. I sit up from my back, wondering where on earth I could possibly be. Darkness is all I can comprehend, and the pungent stench of sewer burns my nostrils. “Hello?” I call out, but there is no reply. As I start to stand, my vision adapts to the pitch blackness and I soon realize there are gigantic walls surrounding me. I begin to panic. I fell asleep on the couch, how could I possibly be here? In front of me, I see a pathway leading farther into the gloom, I have no other choice but to
That was the phrase that had been assaulting my ears for the last half an hour. Although it wasn’t odd that someone was telling me that specific phrase, this time it was different. My grandmother, whom I thought had understood my problems, had just proven to me that she actually didn’t. At the age of 12, I was heartbroken.
I could feel my body temperature rising, my hands perspiring, my breathing become more rapid, and my eyes starting to feel heavy. My mind raced evaluating every sound, laugh, and conversation. I tried to act normal do what the voice made me think I should do, but there I was 11 years old sitting alone crying, trying to make it all stop.
When it comes to my mental health, I can honestly say so far in my personal life, I have never experienced with any mental health issues. I think that I am very unaware what people go through when they have a mental health issue and I would really like to know more about the different mental health problems. People whom I am close with that have experience with mental health. My sister suffers from anxiety, but not severely. I have a few cousins whom I am close to that have experienced with mental health problems. One of my cousins suffers from the mental illness, anorexia. My sisters and I were very close to her when we were younger, but when her mental illness took over her life, she became a different person.
It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.
\The book I have chosen for my essay is a simple one, very understated but near and dear to my heart, All the bright places. Just about all my life I have struggled with some form of depression, it has been a never-ending battle for years. It has consumed every part of me and my life I had to drop out of school at the age of seventeen due to unforeseen circumstances, I lost every one of my friends because I was dragging them down. My life has been a never-ending reminder that I am not god enough. In the book there is this boy named Theodore he is a person who is surverly sad, the medical term for it would be manic depression. Theodore does these things that no one knows he does he stays under water for a bit longer then he should in the bath,
what to say though. Just say what you feel just as we are doing right now we both can see the therapist. Now I think I can sleep mom goodnight. Goodnight son.
Allow me to set the stage. The main character is a 22 year old female college student -- senior to be exact. She enjoys animals, learning, and connecting deeply with others. This young woman is looking forward to a career in social work, specifically with those who are suicidal.
Growing up I had social anxiety. I was shy and scared to be around people. When i was in middle school i decided to open myself up. i met a group of people who seemed nice. I was the only asian in this group. Well one day they did the forehead trick on me. It’s the one where they tell you that if your hand is bigger than your face, you’ll have cancer. When you put your hand up to compare, they smack it into your face. Unfortunately,i did not know this trick and when I fell for it, it really hurt. Since then, they continued to smack my face every day in PE. They kept asking me, “Are you dumb? Are you dumb yet?” they also would make fun of me because i had a big forehead. I thought it was dumb for them to hit me. I didn't know why they did
that was years ago. when the best part of my day was still waking up to see your face. the year when the snow covered the ground at easter and we spent all night sat in out blankets in the cold, watching shitty rom coms and tv series. i used to have no worries or fears because i k new that wherever i was, you’d be there with me so i would never face my fears alone. there were times where i was so scared. maybe due to my social anxiety or maybe do to the depressing thoughts that made me numb. but you were always by my side.
When I was younger I loved school more than anything, the only thing I was worried about was understanding fractions. I had nothing to worry about except disappointing my parents, my sister was a straight a student her whole life and my parents always held me up to that standard they did not mean to it’s just i knew i was smart and they knew but i couldn’t put in the effort. I did not know what it was called when i was younger but i had anxiety I still have it. Whenever i would talk or think about school i would have some version of an anxiety attack because as I got older it became the most stressful thing in my life. Then during my sophomore year a friend told me about IB they said it would make me a better student. I listened to them and
Some people may look at me and think I'm the happiest person in the world. I have a family, I have friends, and I live a lifestyle most would love to have. I’m a senior in college; with less than a few weeks from graduating with my bachelors in applied engineering and technology, and I have huge plans for my future. I’m graduating in four years, which is something that seems hard to do in today’s society. I can admit that these have been the hardest four years of my life, but not because I have a problem with struggling in academics. My struggles stem from my mental illnesses of anxiety and depression.
Even though Hannah loved enjoying amazing weekends, they usually threw her off track when she entered the new work week. This past weekend was yet another one of those epic weekends where she enjoyed spending time with Paul, shopping with friends and visiting a new church.
Because of my experience with depression, and the incredible positive impact made by both my mother and a guidance counselor at school, I decided to follow my curiosity and major in psychology. As someone that has looked into the jaws of darkness and almost been swallowed, I feel that I need to do something with my life that helps others. I feel that anyone who has been hurt has a deep connection with those that are hurting, particularly as it relates to mental illness. Every time I even think about going into a non-helping career I feel a sharp jab of guilt in my gut. I simply can’t be out just for myself, because if everyone else was, I would never have recovered. I hope that at some point in my life I’ll be able to help someone the way I
My depression is not YOUR depression. Your thoughts are not the same as MY thoughts. Your behavior has nothing to do with MY behavior. Your body does not feel the same as MY body. YOUR solution to the problem is yours not mine, nothing works the same way for everyone. You have no clue what I go through, the emotions that drown me, they may share the same label or name but they are not the same. You speak to me as if you know? What do you know? You only know your own experience, thoughts, moods and how they are drowning you, not me. People are quick to just speak without any real emotion or thought behind their gibberish. My mind is my home and your mind is your home; they may share the same structure and/or materials used to build that home but they are setup completely differently, understand yet?
Childhood is a fantastic time of crust-less sandwiches, imaginative play dates, and few worries. In preschool, most everyone learns about the alphabet and how to pronounce their letters, as well as nursery rhymes and what colors are. It is a brilliant time of the most simplistic knowledge and creative games. Nobody cared what you wore, what you looked like or who your friends were; happiness was solely dependent on being around intellectual peers. The whimsical conversations about Pokémon, Power Rangers and Lord of the Rings, sustained by my overactive, sugar-filled mind, only fueled my grandiose belief that I could be anything I wanted when I grew up. Harped upon since my earliest moments of coherence, the hardest quandary I ever quarreled with was this ever-forced notion that I could be anything I wanted. And although the mantra has been appealing it simply can’t be true and its falsity is generating a society of emotionally inept individuals.