This is a continuation on my previous depression post.
The memories from year 8 to 9 are very faded. It’s difficult to remember things when your days diverge on a singular timetable: Moping in my bed till 12, eating a tiny breakfast and then amusing myself on my phone or on good days read a book. The only true relief I ever got was through my eldest brother and my online friends. I think my brother knew but chose not to bring it to the surface. He was the only real face to face interaction that I had. It truly kept me sane. I don’t want to go on and on about how bad it was, if you’ve never experienced depression before just think about a terrible day in recent memory were you woke up senile and distraught. You don’t know why you felt bad – you just did – now repeat it for days on end, that’s what it felt like.
Sometimes now I wish that this had never happened, but not as much as I did back then. The wishing ached through my existence. I could see the skyline, I yearned for my previous self but I slipped whenever I tried to climb through the walls of my roofless prison. Soon I began to realise that I could not climb alone. I needed help.
My first glimmer of hope came in July, a phone call from my brother. He asked me how I was doing, I lied, but then he asked whether I thought living with him would help me. That’s not exactly how he asked, it’s still blurry but that was the gist of it. I remember feeling hopeful for the first time in a long long time… I know this is probably confusing but my relationship with my parents was terrible at the time. Anger filled every one of us daily, it was toxic. I’d prefer not to go into it at the moment.
And so I moved homes. Things improved for a while but eventually I fell again. It was like strolling through a desert, for a while the sandstorms ceased and I could see the horizon, the happiness. Everything became clear for a brief time, but inevitably the sandstorms came again, just that bit weaker this time but still as unrelenting. I know I use analogies a lot, and most of them are terrible, I know. 😀
My sister in-law was also a great help. We grew very close, much more than anyone expected (especially my parents), myself included. I know my parents love me in their own way, but it’s hard to stay smiling through their ignorance. My sister in-law was never treated with benevolence, and the love you’d expect, but that’s sadly how my parents were, but I’m still grateful that they cared for and about me.
I asked my sister in-law recently what it felt like when I constantly skipped out on school due to my depression. She said it was devastatingly frustrating. I didn’t need to ask her to elaborate I understand that feeling now. My parents went through it to. That never ending roller coaster of hope and disappointment. They wanted to help me so badly, but again I lied and cheated, that was how I operated.
But they were damn patient. We hardly ever expressed our anger at each other. I remember a moment where I told my brother that I couldn’t live with him, I never told him why I said this but it was because I couldn’t stand lying to him every day. I couldn’t stand the love that they had placed on my shoulders only for me to shrug it off. I couldn’t stand knowing all the pain I had caused and was causing, daily, weekly.
But my sister and my brother did not falter. They told me that they understood what I was going through, and that we’d get through it together. Thank you Guys.