what they call life
Posted by anonymo
8th Jan 2015

So, I've never written a blog before, so will probably be rubbish.
I've had depression for many years, since I was about twelve I guess. It's varied a lot, how bad it's been, but it's always been there. Some people might not think it's possible to be depressed at twelve but it is. It's also possible to still be depressed nine years later. There have been times when I thought I was getting better, for a few weeks or even months, but then it's always gotten worse again- way worse. People say that it's just a short term temporary thing but that's hard to believe after nine years.
To be honest, I don't even know why I'm writing this, I guess I thought it would make me feel better, after all, no-one on here knows me, or if they happen to, they won't know it's me writing it. I don't really talk about my depression so much. In fact I got so used to hiding it I can't stop now. A while back I finally got the courage to tell my mother I was depressed but she doesn't believe me, I guess because I hide it so completely. Not that I blame her- who would want to think their own daughter was depressed? She always used to say I was the strong one in the family, but I'm not. I hate myself so much for being such a disappointment and failing her like that. I hate myself for a lot of things, to be honest.
I wish so much that this illness would just go away. I feel like my life stopped when I was twelve, that the 'me' that used to exist died back then and now I'm just a shell forcing myself to go through the motions for my mother. I asked her several times if 'hypothetically' she would cope if I died and she said no, and I believe her- that probably sounds really arrogant but the truth is she's had a tough life and had depression before too and I don't want to do that to her. But every day is a struggle, like a fight with all my being just wanting to die, but I try to fight that and stay alive. I know this sounds selfish but I wish so bad that I could actually want to stay alive for me, and not just for someone else, but I haven't, not even for a moment, since I was twelve.
I guess now I could talk about stuff that's happened in my life that could've made me this way, but I don't see depression like that. I often feel bad for being depressed because other people have much tougher lives, but I try to remind myself that's not what depression's about. It's just an illness, like a broken leg or diabetes or whatever, it's not a choice. I still feel guilty for having it though. I don't really know what more to write now, I know this has all been really random and I apologise.

Share Email a friend Be the first to comment on this blog