Switching windows.
Posted: Wed Apr 29, 2009 6:38 pm
I guess the title sums it up in two words, but the explanation'll be pretty long; I wouldn't mind if you skipped it.
I'm female, seventeen, living in the UK. I guess I've had a fair bit in my life; but up until now, I've just dealt with it. For several months now, however, I've suspected I have depression.
It really annoys me, actually. I feel I'm being pathetic and just need to get a grip. I just can't snap out of it. I haven't been to the doctor; I don't want a diagnosis of depression. If I get one, it's like there's an excuse for me to be down all the time, and I don't want that.
I guess I have a bit of a personal vendetta against the illness. My uncle had it for most of his life, and eventually committed suicide, leaving his family distraught. When I was about thirteen, it became 'cool' within my class to brag about self-harm and suicide attempts. I distanced myself, wanting nothing to do with it, and spent a very lonely year by myself. At the end of this year, a girl who I'd previously been friends with actually did attempt suicide, taking an insulin overdose at school. It was terrifying. Several months afterwards, I heard her talking to a friend of mine; it seems she thought it hilarious that we were all scared for her life. I haven't spoken to her since.
My mother also rang her mother the evening after the attempt, to ask whether she was alright. Mum was completely blanked, and I found out the next day that apparently the girl tried to kill herself because of me. To this day I can't understand why; I had hardly interacted with her at all within the past six months. Not in an 'I'm ignoring you' sort of way, more in a 'we just haven't happened to speak in a while' way.
Recently, a different and very close friend of mine tried to commit suicide. She's tried twice now; both times it was only by chance that I found out, and managed to get to her house and ring the ambulance before any permanent damage was done to her by the overdose she'd taken. The second time, just before christmas last year, was the worst. I think this also sparked off the depression; it's since then that I haven't been myself.
For my whole life I've been the rock that my friends rely on. In primary school I was the only friend of a very controlling girl, who wouldn't allow me to talk to anyone else. In secondary I made three very close friends, one of which with fairly severe bipolar disorder. She was on medication, but still had terrible moodswings and very bad days. Everyone used to avoid her; I can even remember one of my close friends now telling me then "You don't want to be tarred with the same brush as her!" Luckily, I ignored her, and continued to build a friendship with this girl. Over the years she's improved dramatically, is now doing well at school, and has as many if not more friends than me. Nobody avoids her anymore. It's great to think that I might have helped towards this.
Another friend of mine has, over the years, developed depression and/or bipolar disorder. (no clear diagnosis yet) This is the friend I mentioned a paragraph ago, who has been recently suicidal.
I can't confide in anyone. Last time I confided in my suicidal friend was five years ago, and she promptly got drunk and started to cry, telling me she couldn't deal with knowing what I had told her. Since then I haven't told her anything of great importance. When she gets upset, it's a huge deal, and everyone has to make a fuss of her; but when I'm upset she makes fun of me, tells me to stop PMSing, etc. She quit school recently and makes it clear that she thinks I'm selfish when I won't go hang out with her for the sake of revising for my A-Levels (for those not in the UK, they're really very important exams).
Of course it's teenage drama, and of course everyone's had to deal with it. I have a good life, I'm intelligent, I can revise and get good results, my family are wonderful; but I cry now almost every day. I skip several lessons a week to sit on the floor of a toilet cubicle at school because I can't bring myself to go to the lessons. And yet when I can force myself to act normally and hang out with my friends, it's fine and I can laugh and smile and be happy. It's just a different matter when I'm given time to think.
The only thing that can snap me out of a down mood is a boy called Kah. Problem is, he's a character from a webcomic I keep planning to draw and put up online. (never get around to it.) In essence, this means that I can get rid of my depressive moods - it takes a while, but if I keep trying at it, it works and for several hours I can be normal and happy. Shouldn't I be able to do that without Kah? My only comfort in life is a fictional character of my own creation. It hurts even to type that and suggest that he's not really there.
Am I crazy? Am I overreacting to teenage moodswings? Am I a hypochondriac? I've seen so many people over the years pretending to be depressed, when all they need is a little love and attention, that I don't know what to think any more. I don't want to tell anyone I think I might be depressed. I can't let the rock crumble. Right now I'm typing this up and switching windows every few minutes, whenever a family member walks past. Everyone already has enough worries in their lives; they don't need mine as well.
I'm female, seventeen, living in the UK. I guess I've had a fair bit in my life; but up until now, I've just dealt with it. For several months now, however, I've suspected I have depression.
It really annoys me, actually. I feel I'm being pathetic and just need to get a grip. I just can't snap out of it. I haven't been to the doctor; I don't want a diagnosis of depression. If I get one, it's like there's an excuse for me to be down all the time, and I don't want that.
I guess I have a bit of a personal vendetta against the illness. My uncle had it for most of his life, and eventually committed suicide, leaving his family distraught. When I was about thirteen, it became 'cool' within my class to brag about self-harm and suicide attempts. I distanced myself, wanting nothing to do with it, and spent a very lonely year by myself. At the end of this year, a girl who I'd previously been friends with actually did attempt suicide, taking an insulin overdose at school. It was terrifying. Several months afterwards, I heard her talking to a friend of mine; it seems she thought it hilarious that we were all scared for her life. I haven't spoken to her since.
My mother also rang her mother the evening after the attempt, to ask whether she was alright. Mum was completely blanked, and I found out the next day that apparently the girl tried to kill herself because of me. To this day I can't understand why; I had hardly interacted with her at all within the past six months. Not in an 'I'm ignoring you' sort of way, more in a 'we just haven't happened to speak in a while' way.
Recently, a different and very close friend of mine tried to commit suicide. She's tried twice now; both times it was only by chance that I found out, and managed to get to her house and ring the ambulance before any permanent damage was done to her by the overdose she'd taken. The second time, just before christmas last year, was the worst. I think this also sparked off the depression; it's since then that I haven't been myself.
For my whole life I've been the rock that my friends rely on. In primary school I was the only friend of a very controlling girl, who wouldn't allow me to talk to anyone else. In secondary I made three very close friends, one of which with fairly severe bipolar disorder. She was on medication, but still had terrible moodswings and very bad days. Everyone used to avoid her; I can even remember one of my close friends now telling me then "You don't want to be tarred with the same brush as her!" Luckily, I ignored her, and continued to build a friendship with this girl. Over the years she's improved dramatically, is now doing well at school, and has as many if not more friends than me. Nobody avoids her anymore. It's great to think that I might have helped towards this.
Another friend of mine has, over the years, developed depression and/or bipolar disorder. (no clear diagnosis yet) This is the friend I mentioned a paragraph ago, who has been recently suicidal.
I can't confide in anyone. Last time I confided in my suicidal friend was five years ago, and she promptly got drunk and started to cry, telling me she couldn't deal with knowing what I had told her. Since then I haven't told her anything of great importance. When she gets upset, it's a huge deal, and everyone has to make a fuss of her; but when I'm upset she makes fun of me, tells me to stop PMSing, etc. She quit school recently and makes it clear that she thinks I'm selfish when I won't go hang out with her for the sake of revising for my A-Levels (for those not in the UK, they're really very important exams).
Of course it's teenage drama, and of course everyone's had to deal with it. I have a good life, I'm intelligent, I can revise and get good results, my family are wonderful; but I cry now almost every day. I skip several lessons a week to sit on the floor of a toilet cubicle at school because I can't bring myself to go to the lessons. And yet when I can force myself to act normally and hang out with my friends, it's fine and I can laugh and smile and be happy. It's just a different matter when I'm given time to think.
The only thing that can snap me out of a down mood is a boy called Kah. Problem is, he's a character from a webcomic I keep planning to draw and put up online. (never get around to it.) In essence, this means that I can get rid of my depressive moods - it takes a while, but if I keep trying at it, it works and for several hours I can be normal and happy. Shouldn't I be able to do that without Kah? My only comfort in life is a fictional character of my own creation. It hurts even to type that and suggest that he's not really there.
Am I crazy? Am I overreacting to teenage moodswings? Am I a hypochondriac? I've seen so many people over the years pretending to be depressed, when all they need is a little love and attention, that I don't know what to think any more. I don't want to tell anyone I think I might be depressed. I can't let the rock crumble. Right now I'm typing this up and switching windows every few minutes, whenever a family member walks past. Everyone already has enough worries in their lives; they don't need mine as well.