That means so much to me, honestly I was hoping it would help myself and others.. I didn’t really want people that I know to read it and then feel uncomfortable around me, which so far hasn’t happened. I’m so grateful for your message. Anyone who is still living and breathing with depression is just as strong as I am, so is your mother. If you think I’m strong just look at your own mother
I’ve felt the need to write something (on tumblr because I type faster than I write on paper). There’s been a lot going on at my school about stigma and mental illness and people sharing their stories. I got stuck on asking myself, what was my story?
For those who don’t know me I’m Shauna. I’m 16 going on 17. I’ve been lost for a very long time. I’ve always needed to get my own way, even as a child, which is why I think I have a sense of leadership about me. I’m very opinionated and I never back down from an argument. I guess the beginning on this tale starts in grade 7, which you could classify as just elementary kid stuff. Exclusion, it’s terrible being on the outside of a circle.
Grade 9 is where I think most of this actually does start. Popularity and weight were a key factor. I had no friends and the ones I did I never got to see. I tried my hand at self-harm, not sure why. I thought I had an eating disorder because I didn’t eat much, but it was all self-diagnosed. That’s what I mean by lost, trying my hand at different disorders. I’ve always been a hypochondriac.
It wasn’t until I became angry before I knew I genuinely had an issue. I didn’t know who I was and I felt completely lost. Was I the girl who was just a bitch, or someone inside all that? My good friend, who I wouldn’t be here without, told me to ask for help. I felt so alone and tried, so I asked my mom if I could just talk with someone. She didn’t think much of it and I met my counsellor.
My counsellor didn’t care or listen. I didn’t feel comfortable at all around her, which is why I think I’m where I’m at now. I saw her recently outside my office and she didn’t know who I was. I said thank you after ever terrible hour long appointment and she didn’t ever respond. I had to track my moods on a stupid paper, and cried when I told her that I didn’t know who I was. Needless to say she didn’t understand.
After awhile of going to my counsellor, I was booked for a diagnosis from my family doctor. I’ll never forget that day. My mom told me not to touch anything because the doctor’s office is for people who are sick. The doctor told me that what I was feeling wasn’t normal and prescribed me with depression/anxiety medication, Cipralex. I got the prescription and tried to hide it from my mom and dad by asking to get a drive to Shoppers by myself, my dad noticed and my mom was disgusted that my doctor could give medication to me. She didn’t think there was something wrong with me and I just kept saying it was chemical imbalances in my brain and I couldn’t help feeling sad. Turns out that depression runs in my family.
I started the medication and only told my 3 best friends. Everyone always asks what I’m on and I always make a joke about how it’s birth control or something. Honestly, I’ve stopped and started taking the medication multiple times. There’s been times where I’ve deeply relied on it, sometimes maximizing my doses and other times where I refused to take it so I could feel like a person with emotions.
I don’t remember what happened but one night I tried to kill myself by taking a bunch of iron pills and Cipralex. I was so ready to just fall asleep and die but all I got were terrible headaches, drowsiness and a painful stomach ache. I don’t remember why I even did it.
There’s no feeling like feeling alone. I’m not sure if I’ll post this, or if it’s just for my own benefit. There’s a gut wrenching pain that no one knows that comes with depression. Knowing that you’ll be sick and sad your whole life and having to bare that pain. The issue I have with my school doing all this mental illness crap is that 1. no one really cares, they just need it for their image, and 2. you can’t fix it. I’ll start with number 1. All the people saying they want to erase the stigma are people who need the stupid club for their resumes. It may be negative to say, but knowing how terrible, sad, and alone some of those people made me feel does not help me believe that they can help with my crippling anxiety and depression. People act as if they’re big advocates for love and hugs to erase suicide but treat those with it as pieces of shit. Number 2, you can’t get rid of cancer by raising awareness and talking about it. My depression is an illness, not a characteristic and no amount of friendship can cure that.
It’s funny how no one listens, even if it’s their job. Even in the midst of a panic attack as I cry for help no one can even give me a little respond or an I love you. Maybe it’s too much to ask and I’m an attention seeker or something but sometimes you need to know you’re loved by people you care about. I’m feeling sad, which is one of the other reasons I was provoked to write this. Not even my friends know or understand and I guess I don’t know their stories either. It’s sad to get so upset by the only people who make you happy, and to feel as if your illness is belittled.
As for where I’m at now, I don’t know. I stopped taking my medication and I have panic attacks now. Sitting in a car during traffic makes me want to cry and going to work makes me have a hysterical breakdown. It’s scary. Everything upsets me and as I write about it, I put more sadness than good into it. I have written countless posts and saved them as drafts because I’m scared of my own writing. I’m scared that someone will see this and treat me differently, I’m scared my mom will see this and hate me for lying.
I’m so scared of the future. I’m tired and I lack so much. I tried to explain my story today, and I was at a loss for words. It’s not much but as of now I’m breathing and still kicking and still managing to laugh a few times a day even if I’m dying inside. I guess I’ll get back to you when my story gets to the part where I can truly say that it gets better. Although I can feel terribly sad at days, I’m just a human with an illness that I’ve never really spoken about. Thank you if you’ve read this, and I guess now you know my story and I encourage you to write yours.