Personal Narrative: Real Depression

My name is (student name) and I am 29 years old, living with my spouse in a rented place and working in a Bank as a relationship executive. We knew each other very well before getting married and used to see each other in college. We got married about two years back and my wife immediately wanted kids but we have not yet conceived although the doctor says everything is normal.

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.

I first realized something wasn’t quite right with me in 1996, I was stationed at Ft. Campbell, Ky. I remember wakig up and having terrible dreams, that I had never had before, but I pushed it out of my head. The dreams would continue to come and agitate me and make me very uncomfortable. One morning I finally woke up and felt I needed to get to the bottom of theses dreams, I called my older sister up who was living in Knoxville Tn. And asked her, “did these things happen to me”, her reply was, “Yes”. After that phone call I tried to commit suicide, which landed me in the hospital and on medication for depression, which was the first time I was medicated and labeled as being depressed. It would be years before the question came up again,

1. No matter how hard we try to prepare ourselves for challenging experiences and try to stay positive, it becomes harder to do than planned when the time comes. It was the end of the last semester and I was on the verge of emotional depression that totally overwhelmed me. During the exam period, I wasted my weekends on the Internet, chatting and Facebook-ing. I needed to submit an important paper on Tuesday morning. On Sunday night, after wasting so much time of mine and having a little red eyes because of so much exposure to electronic screens, I sat down to write my paper. Only then did I realize that the paper was due the next morning, not on Tuesday. I was extremely nervous because it was too little a time to finish it. Moreover, I was so angry with myself that I wanted to cry. It was a realization that I was off course in my study habits and that I had not overcome my habit of willingly putting myself in difficult positions. The more I thought about being in that mess, the angrier I got with myself. I got even angrier thinking about how it was not the first time in my life that I put myself in such a situation. I could not concentrate on my paper because of that emotional response. Then suddenly I thought that I just needed to talk to someone and calm down. I called my classmate and just told her about everything. She said that the instructor had actually extended the deadline until Thursday. It was such a relief. I thanked her profusely and decided

Every time I get in one of these low-grade depressive cycles where I'm excessively pensive and melancholic rather than catatonic and wishing for death, I quickly develop this one-off obsession with the sea that I can't explain. I'm either lusting to swim it, or having nightmares of drowning in it every other night.

Imagine that you could only see life in a dull grey. The world that is full of life and somehow dead because of an overcast view that only you can see, and everyone else can see every saturation and detailed shade of color. This can be just a slight piece of what depression is actually like, but it’s not the same for everyone. I believe that this disorder can be perceived as different for everyone for the reasons of the different lives people have lived, how every person varies in their perspective, and a matter of which disorders may impact the person with it.

I’m sitting in Rhino Market & Deli struggling to write. I am also hosting an open mic (well, I’m sitting by the P.A. making sure it doesn’t feed back as random people and friends take turn singing and playing guitar: I am loosely orchestrating the event). I might also be keeping an eye on the PFO Slam Poetry GroupMe texts. I catch myself and smile: I remember vigorously complaining about having too much to do back when I wasn’t doing half as much as I am now. How did I get here? Well, in a way, depression.

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?

In late 2016 early 2017 I went through a bout of depression where I felt distant and out of place. At this time i had suicidal tendencies and was placed in two different mental facilities. I felt like there was no reason to live anymore and I just wanted it to end. Then I felt a part of me wanting to keep going. I had thoughts of my family and friends, places I want to go and see, and things i aspire to be running through my head. Just when i thought i had lost hope it was like when you see something out of place and you have an urge to fix it. With that urge I am still here today, alive, breathing, and i feel something i never thought i would ever feel again, joy. I feel like if i had not been persistent i wouldn't be the person i am today.

In depression, all that once seemed beautiful or dreadful suddenly means nothing. The sight of a beach at sunset is no longer a purveyor of romance but a product of our eyes and brain working to form an image that is one of many others. It’s no longer anything special. Nothing is inherently compelling anymore, it’s neither good nor bad. Everything becomes just an experience or just a memory. Emotions are nothing more than the result of a brew of chemicals inside my body. Thus, to live a life revolving around emotions is to live a life of inaccuracy and futility. But to live a life lacking emotion is much the same. There lacks any urge to do anything, to meet anyone, to be

Welcome to a world where depression and anxiety is present. Growing up I had everything I needed. Majority of my life I have been living in the same neighborhood, Logan Heights, just different houses. Having a stable childhood, where going outside to play with the neighborhood kids were a normal thing until one day everything changed. We all had to be inside our homes by 7 p.m. because there would be random shootings every night for a year straight. My life changed when I was in the third grade, coming home noticing my father wasn’t home which was unusual. My mother telling me over and over again, “He will be home soon.” As a kid, it didn’t seem as harmful as I thought it was. Waking up that same night, rushing to pack a few extra changes of

Today is my 23rd birthday, I would like to shift from traditional posts that tend to only highlight peoples' lives and spread a little bit of awareness about mental health. I don't always share what I have on my mind, but since the attention is on me today I thought that I would do so. I have been living with anxiety and depression for a while, and it really bugs me how much stigma surrounds it. I am doing all that I can do to tame it, and have meet so many people in my life that have really helped me.

The first concept I am going to discuss is depression. When I was in high school I suffered from depression. When I was a freshman I was diagnosed with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) which is also called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). This could be described as a disease that is characterized by profound fatigue, sleep abnormalities, pain, and other symptoms that only become worse with the exertion of energy. CFS is very hard to diagnose because a lot of the symptoms resemble depression. A big difference is that “People with depression usually feel very tired and aren’t interested in doing any activity, regardless of the task or the required amount of effort. Meanwhile, those with chronic fatigue syndrome usually want to engage in activities but just feel too tired to do so (Nall, 2015). For me, everything that came along with having CFS is what caused me to have depression. When I was diagnosed at the end of freshman year, my parents made the decision to homeschool me so that I could have treatment. It made sense to take me out of school because I was always sick because of my decreased immune response caused by CFS. During the time when I was homeschooled I was going to a treatment center every week to get an IV and at home was having to take twelve pills a day and give myself B-12 shots. This all took a big toll on me and not being able to socialize made it worse. I felt isolated and alone and with this combined with my parents’

This assignment was very interesting. I have never had to do something so emotional in my life. On my list, were some of the most important things, people, and places in my life. Therefore, it was very hard to cross these things off of my list.

Depression has a voice, a dark and entrancing voice, luring you into its pain. It tells you how terrible you are, grows and grows, replays every mistake in your life, and humiliates you daily; it makes happiness impossible and friends a difficulty. It’s the darkest, ugliest shade of colors, that permanent paint that won’t come out. Once this color finds its way onto your canvas, it will unravel over your beautiful art. Cover up who you really are and you’ll hurt inside. There are people in this world that have known darkness for so long that they know how to hide it, they’ve had their 3AM thoughts of pain and torture. People can cover it up with a smile and positivity and you’ll never see them break down. They refuse to feel, they don’t connect