I am often told that I’m a strong person. The type that doesn’t cry and can stand their ground. The world had convinced me that I don’t need anyone as I can fend for myself. Maybe that’s why I have built this solid wall around my heart.
I find it difficult to reach out for help. I don’t like appearing weak. I also don’t like to be a burden for others. I often find myself locked in a bathroom crying. Crying because I’m hurt. Crying because I’m tired. Crying because of just need someone to be there for me once in a while. I always find myself alone with my own demons, unsure of how to overcome the darkness.
I have slowly shied away from telling friends how I feel. This was after a close friend told me how she gets tired of solving the problems of others. I felt guilty because I always turned to her when I felt lost and scared, which for a depressive is a daily reality. It dawned on me that maybe people don’t want to hear my problems everyday. People got irritated at my nagging, and emotional distance should be maintained at all times.
As I sit writing this I fail to concentrate. I’m huddled in the bathroom cry, telling friends and family that I’m doing just fine. I reread a text message that I have received that highlights why I shouldn’t bother to live, for people like me are incapable of being loved in any manner. Today the anti depressants and mood stabilizers have failed to work. And as the suicidal thoughts come back, I long for meaningful emotional contact with someone who could understand.
Depression is an isolating illness. As a sufferer, one is made to feel alone and unwanted.