My battle against Depression

Black. The sheet was covered in pitch black ink. That's when it started, maybe that was my call for help. 

"Ma'am, this is the drawing your child made. It looked...concerning". The teacher said looking at me, pulling me away from my thoughts back to the conversation infront. 

"I don't understand. Isn't it just a drawing?" My mother asked.

"Yes, it is. But children her age shouldn't just be scribbling black all over the sheet. Also, the fact remains that she doesn't speak to her peers or participate in class is raising some questions." 

" So she is a quiet child, always has been" she answered with a sigh and gave me a questioning gaze to which I averted my eyes.

" I would suggest counselling". Upon hearing that her face turned grim. 

I realized something on that day from their interaction, I might have a problem within me. 

Over the years, I went for several counselling sessions, changed doctors almost every season, but nothing helped to change the darkness within me. 

Sometimes, I thought I might just be depressed. But, turns out depression and being depressed were as different as night and day. And I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 12. 

It started out as just me being an introvert; having an awful habit of keeping things bottled up. I pondered on the reason for my illness but always ended up thinking about the past. 

"This may have stemmed from the divorce she is afraid to be abandoned", the conclusion would always be the same.

Honestly, it wasn't this bad before but some where along the line, I grew tired of myself and the people around me. All I wanted was to go back to the comfort of my bed. Everyday I felt sluggish, not having the strength to even move a muscle; caging myself in that room. I had become addicted to the feeling of depression and that was how I wanted to lived on. Even after I managed to surround myself with friends, I was alone; their happy faces suffocated me. No one knew the real me, and if they did maybe no one would want to stay anymore. But, the thought that would always follow was ‘Do I even need friends?’ it was all I could think about. My social anxiety was taking over my life. 

Moreover, I had started to become cranky, lashing out at people for the most random things. My mood was always low and I felt... worthless. Just like my father, who had left when I was a child, a constant fear lurked around my mind as a reminder that someday I might again end up being abandoned... And this time by everyone.

However, I still hoped, one day I would become more mature and all of this would be just a misunderstanding, my childishness.

My anxiety took a turn for the worse, the day I graduated from college; with no clue on what to do in life, my mind became more dark and twisted. I seemed to have fallen further down the rabbit hole. 

I didn't know what to do or where I fit in. I watched all my other friends talking about their future plans and goals for life. However, I was...stuck, with no idea on how to take a step forward.

Soon, even medicines weren't helping control my severe anxiety and depression. Day by day, I was losing my will to live; I had lost my appetite long ago and now was heavily dependent on supplements. No matter what I did, I just couldn't recover my body or mind. I was slowly losing myself to the point where I couldn't even differentiate between reality and hallucination. I had also completely stopped speaking and was heavily reliant on medication. 

Whenever I thought about the achievements of my friends, my mind would turn green with envy. Socializing became a difficult game to play. While they went on happily with their lives, I was at the point where I thought 'maybe I should end it once and for all'. 

So one night, I sat on the floor with a blade in my hand and made the first cut. I watched the oozing blood with fascination and welcomed the pain, ready to end my misery once and for all. Fortunately my mother had caught me red handed and immediately rushed me to the emergency room. When she asked me why I did so, I could not answer. I didn't know how to explain what I was going through but when I saw her face with tears running down her eyes, I burst out crying as well. All those moments where I kept bottling myself up was finally broken. I jumped into her arms hugging her as tight as I could and cried out everything that I was hiding: my anger, pain, sadness and loneliness. Throughout the night, I poured out my heart to her and she listened patiently as she patted my back.

The next day walking back home, I realized how small my mother's back looked, how tired her face was, how she must have felt all those years watching me struggle, going in and out of those therapy sessions. We both were fragile souls who only had each other to rely on. All these years, when I thought I was alone, she had silently watched over me, working and taking care of both of us all at the same time. I finally realized how much she loved and cherished me; while I was blind. She had to go through so much hardship in her life but she took all that happily just to see me smile in return. On that day, I took an oath to change myself. I wanted to become better for the both of us, so that this time she could rely on me.

After that day, I went through extensive therapy and listened to the doctors to the best of my abilities. I started to live a healthy lifestyle: eating good food, going out for a run, sketching whenever I could, maintaining a sleep schedule and socializing. And guess what? Slowly I started to recover. I also began hanging out with my friends more and even though it seemed annoying in the beginning, I started enjoying our conversations. I even managed to gain the courage to confess to them about my illness and the struggles along with it. Which made me realize that they were some of the best people in my life, as they accepted me for who I was and sometimes even helped me win the battle against it. Though I wasn't completely over my depression and sometimes, that feeling would rush back to haunt me but this time I knew exactly the people who I should reach out for, and would figure it out at my own pace. 

I realized, all I needed was to trust myself and the people around me. I accepted the fact that I needed help and I couldn't have done this alone, I wanted someone to save me. 

One of the things that help me the most was reviving my artistic skills, I brought back the me who drew in colour again. Using drawing as a way to soothe my mind, I found the answer I was looking for everywhere to be beside me all this time. I am now currently working as a freelance Illustrator with a successful social media outreach and a ton of clients. And honestly I have never been more proud of myself. 

Proud of the twelve year old me, who was trying to call for help through her drawings, the sixteen year old me, who was trying her best to not stray from her path, the twenty one year old me, who was just trying her best to survive and finally the twenty three year old me, who is grateful to myself for staying strong all those years and not giving up. I am glad that I pulled myself up from such a dark place and learnt to love myself, opening up to what life has to offer without any regrets.

"You are the only one who can help yourself, Love yourself".