My Depression - I Need Help

I have been struggling with depression my entire life. Ever since I can remember, I have dealt with these deep feelings of uneasy sadness (for a lack of better words).

As a child and teenager, I was extremely irritable, and I have probably cried at least two times a day for about 90% of the days that I have been alive. I am known across my family as the one who "cries as the wind changes directions" and people have common used the term "walking on eggshells" around me.

My mom has taken me to two psychiatrists as an adolescent.

When I was in elementary school, the first psychiatrist she took me to asked me to draw a picture of myself and my family. I drew - as any kid would draw - normal looking people with varying heights and hair lengths according to gender and age. However, this psychiatrist decided that since I didn't draw myself according to my actual weight, that I had some problem.

I'm not sure what exactly the problem was because my mom never took me back to that guy.

I think he basically said something about me being overweight and delusional because I didn't draw myself in a realistic fashion. I was nine or ten years old, dude.

I'm not Bob Ross.

Apparently, he told my mother that I needed to lose weight and wanted to put me on a diet. I wasn't really a super large child, but I was definitely chunky. I did gymnastics, though, and was definitely not obese. Who in the world says that about a slightly overwieght nine or ten year old anyway??

Many years later I still had the same problems with sadness and extreme irritability according to everyone around me, so my mom took me to another psychiatrist.

This was during the beginning of my high school career.

I talked to her (the psychiatrist) for probably about a month or two, twice a week or so. I hated going as I was always super shy. Even during my appointments I would cry and I had no idea why. My mom would have to go into the room with me to talk with my psychiatrist because I never wanted to.

The psychiatrist diagnosed me with "chronic dysthymia".

She prescribed me to take Lexapro, and my mom tried to make me take it. I didn't like to have a problem - nor did I acknowledge that I had one - and I REALLY didn't like that my family was always trying to "fix me". So, I never really took my medication, and when the psychiatrist asked if it was helping and how I was doing, we would say it was working nicely and my mom would state some kind of improvement in my behavior.

I think it was more of a placebo effect for my mom, and for me: I never thought I had a problem in the first place.

I remember one time when we got home after an appointment, I told my mom that I hadn't been taking my medication the entire time, trying to prove to her that I was actually fine and didn't really need to take it. From then on, she would make me take the medicine in front of her and show her my tongue when I finished "swallowing" it.

I never swallowed it.

I put it under my tongue to show her my "empty" mouth. She then would go on and on to me about how much "better" I was doing and she'd say couldn't I see how much "better" I was.

This did not help me to actually want to get help for myself, let alone even acknowledge that I had a problem. It only fueled the fire that I thought I didn't have a problem in the first place. So, I brushed it off thinking that I was right to think I really didn't have a problem or need medication to fix me.

As a kid, I always told my family (when they brought up that something might be wrong and I should be happier) that I didn't need to be fixed, and they should just take me as I am.

In fact I argued that I am me and God wanted me the way I am or else he wouldn't have made me this way. I felt that if I took any medication or tried to change how I felt, then I wouldn't be "me" anymore. 

I didn't ever really think I was depressed until after college.

I think one of my worst episodes of depression that I have ever had was when my first college boyfriend dumped me.

I thought he was going to be the one. Mainly because I had always envisioned myself ending up like my parents who found each other in college and are still very happily married. I always expected to have the same outcome as them. Well, that's not how it worked out. He ended it and it wrecked my entire world.

Mind you, I was already very emotionally unstable in romantic relationships with my trust issues for no reason other than insecurity, complete attachment to where I did not want to leave my significant other in any situation whatsoever, basically the altogether extremely clingy type of red flag girlfriend.

He turned into an obsession for me, and I convinced him to get back together with me one time after that.

He really did love me, but I crazied him so far away from our relationship that there would never be hope for "us" again. My actions would never allow for our relationship to bloom.

I cried day in and day out after that.

I missed all of my classes, I lost all sense of hope, and I lost about 20 pounds (went from 165 to 145). This lasted for months and I vowed that I would never get over him. I isolated myself from every single one of my friends. I moved out of the suite that I lived in with 6 other girls only to move myself into a room to be alone. I would go eat at the cafeteria alone, but I wouldn't really get to eat through all my sobbing.

It was more like I cried everywhere I went. I cried myself to sleep at night. Really, I cried in bed until I made myself so exhausted that I passed out.

If I did walk to a class, I would be sobbing the entire way. I would cry in class the entire time. When I did attempt to eat at the cafeteria, I would cry so much I couldn't eat anyway. I played tennis for my college, but practices and matches were miserable because I would cry all the time.

I was in a mode that I was almost crying 24/7 except for a few moments when I would distract myself from the fact that I was my own worst enemy. And i just made it worse because I would [rightly] blame myself for the consequences of my insecurities due to my depression in the first place.

It was a vicous cycle of regret and sorrow.

I eventually developed another crush about a year later, and he became my boyfriend.

Only for him to end it the same way for the same exact reasons.

Afterward, he became an obsession as well, and it wasn't easy to get distance from him. He was in my close friend group and actually started out as one of my very close friends. We always hung out together.

He was also on the tennis team with me.

He smoked weed and cigarettes, and in order to try to hang out with him even more than I already did, I took up smoking both of those, too. I don't think that helped with anything. Thankfully, I didn't take this loss as hard as I took the first one, but I still cried and slept a ton. I cried through practices, and it was definietly still hard for me to function. I just used binge drinking to forget my worries with him.

Eventually, to get over this guy, I ended up getting my previous boyfriend to hang out with me more, and even plotted - and succeeded - in getting him to cheat on his then current girlfriend with me.

I continued to be my own worst enemy.

It was almost like I couldn't resist the temptation of making my life a living hell without knowing what I was doing to myself until after the fact. I could do nothing but make poor life and relationship decisions.

Even my friendships were toxic.

I have had many, many friends, but at one point in every single one of my friendships I have had an extreme falling out where I have completely cut ties and didn't give a shit about the other person.

When I care for people and make friends, I absolutely love them and will do anything and everything for them to make them happy. I have always for some reason ended up feeling as though each one of them has purposefully done me wrong, so in retaliation through my feelings of betrayal, I have done them wrong to make them feel as sorry as they made me feel. Even though when thinking objectively about each of these situations, my friends may or may not have even intended on hurting my feelings in the first place. At least not to the extent that I have taken these things.

What has happened is that my feelings have gotten hurt, and the hurt to me felt so strongly - felt like the world was ending - that I needed to make them feel the same pain. So, I would hurt them the same way - even much, much worse - than they had hurt me in the first place.

I would end up cutting ties with them.

Burn bridges.

There are still some girls that I will never speak to again, and I cannot tell you why in the world we even cut ties in the first place. I have amended many of my friendships, but there is no taking back what I have said or done to my friends just because of how bad I was feeling, myself.

I have ended up punishing people for my feeling bad when it wasn't their fault in the first place.

The problem that arises with this is that I am always finding myself yet again feeding a fire. It is a circle. I feel bad, then I do hateful/hurtful things, then I feel bad for doing those hateful/hurtful things, then the people that I have done those things to feel bad and don't want to hang out with me as much or at all anymore.

Such a sad cycle that I have found myself in so many times over and over again.

It is extremely hard to escape.

After college and during my last couple of years of college, I have had a few menial jobs.

A few serving jobs, and a few others. Nothing that really mattered.

I have had mental breakdowns at these jobs and walked out of many of them because I was so stressed that I could not - and did not care to - handle the situations any longer. One of the jobs I have walked out on multiple occasions. They had hired me back from a previous walk-out because I am actually a very nice person and bubbly and happy when I'm not being a crazy emotional, depressed wreck.

This job was my second serving job.

The stress of a serving job is extreme, and this place was close to my hometown. Therefore, it came with all of the drama and a lot of the peers that I had gone to high school with.

I didn't have a job after I walked out on this one for a few months. I still went crawling back to them, and they gladly accepted me. During my second round at this job, I crushed on yet another guy who then became my boyfriend.

I don't know what it is, but I have had a horrible habit of becoming insanely insecure and just outright crazy when I've been in romantic relationships. Even more-so than when I'm "happily" single. Even after my previous relationships, I have been able to look back and realize that I was thinking irrationally throughout each relationship. It has only been when these relationships have ended that I have been able to look at them objectively and seen clearly.

Well, this new boyfriend and I were constantly working together, and I would always end up being that jealous girlfriend throwing fits and crying at work.

FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN INSECURITY AND JEALOUSY.

I ended up walking out again and getting fired during this relationship. I got another three serving jobs, and I would eventually walk out on all three over the course of two years due to stress and my depression.

I don't know how this guy got through it with me, but he stuck through many of my mental breakdowns. He was with me for another three trying times in my life as well. Neither of these occured due to being in a relationship or at one of my jobs.

The first was my grandfather passing away. It sent me into an existential crisis. I cried for many days and nights and felt very empty and lonely. This is the first time that I actually realized that I did not have to feel this way, but I also could not do anything about it.

That I actually had a problem with depression. I guess when it starts affecting the poeple you actually care about outside of your family, you start to acknowledge that you have a problem and want to change.

The next two times were also existential. I cried all the time. My great uncle passed, and then my grandmother. Outside of these crises I have been facing my now-acknowledged depression.

I have empty feelings, and I really try to feel better.

But it's more than just getting past a feeling.

I get these awful feelings of hopelessness. I cannot control these feelings. I have been with my current boyfriend (that I met at the restaurant I walked out of twice) for two and half years.

He knows that I struggle with depression, and he supports me tremendously.

I do not abuse or use the depression as an excuse, and he does not baby me or let me think that I can use it as an excuse. But he is here for me on my bad days and at least tries to make it better.

What sucks is that I cannot control sometimes how bad I'm feeling, and sometimes I am extremely irritable and I can bite his head off for no reason at all. It is very sickening.

This past weekend, he proposed!!

I am extremely happy and excited for my life with this man, and yet still these awful feelings of depression haven't magically disappeared.

He loves me so much, and I am constantly worried that I am going to push him away like I have pushed away everyone else. I know things are awesome between us, but I can't help the feeling in the back of my mind that I'm going to end up ruining it with him like I have ruined all of my relationships in the past due to my depression, insecurities, and anxiety.

For instance, I have absolutely acted a fool toward him, and there have been times that I have thought that I have pushed him to the point that he should not return. But he loves me and deeply cares for me, and he knows I struggle and that I am trying to be better. We are taking it on one day at a time.

He obviously wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and I absolutely love him with all of my heart and want nothing but to be with him and live a happy, fulfilling life.

I just cannot shake these feelings and want to feel better!!

I know that I have him for support, but I feel bad when I go to him and tell him that I feel bad. I don't want him to have that weight on his shoulders. It is not his job to make me feel better, but he really helps a lot and doesn't seem to mind most of the time.

I just want to feel better so that we can have a happy life together and just have to deal with normal relationship problems that come with being together. Not all of this depression, feeling emptiness, and loneliness for no reason at all.

I feel hopeless a lot of the time.

I am almost constantly tired until bedtime and then I cannot stop my mind from running so I can fall asleep.

He is here for me and takes care of me, but sometimes I can almost feel how draining and tiring it is for him to deal with this. Sometimes when he is trying to help me, he hurts me because he proposes ideas that make me think very deeply and take me to dark, scary places in my depression.

I would like to add that I am no longer a super crazy girlfriend. I have gotten past that stage with this man, and I have leveled out to my "normal" level of depression. I lose and gain weight from month to month. My weight fluctuates about 20 pounds either direction.

I sleep a lot and never feel rested. My dreams are so vivid that I feel as if I have never even gone to sleep in the first place.

I have previously spoken with some of my doctors about my depression, and one of them had prescribed me something other than Lexapro, but it made me hear clicking and whooshing noises in my ears and it was a bit scary.

I have no wishes to be on medication ever, and I want to live a normal, happy life without having to be medicated. I believe there aer alternative methods to curing depression before you need to settle for taking a medication for the rest of your life. I don't want some unnatural, man-made medication in my body.

Also, although I have never really considered myself capable of such a thing, there have been two times during my current relationship where my depression has turned into a psychosis that I have contemplated committing suicide. I always tell myself that I could never do that, but I have come close.

When I was in high school and prescribed the Lexapro that I never really took, I once took a handful of them in hopes of dying. I immediately regretted it, and I never told anyone about it during the situation. Obviously, I did not die. I didn't know you couldn't overdose on antidepressants. I just laid there crying and waited for the end.

I thought all pills were capable of ending your life when taken in large amounts. I was naiive, thankfully. I don't think I really want to die.

Although I do have manic moments that I enjoy immensely, I just want this seemingly endless suffering to come to an end. Sometimes I feel as if I am just waiting to die. Other times, I feel reckless and don't care whether I do live or die. 

I know there are natural ups and downs in life. I just want mine to be extremely LESS extreme. 

Anyway, that is my story so far.

I have many other issues that have been left out, but this has been a quick summary of my life with depression so far.

I plan on having more journal posts and creating more specific posts pertaining to the problems that I have had. I also plan on making journal entries whenever I can remember to do so.

If you read this completely through, thank you for toughing it out. Please leave a reply if you wish. I could use any encouragment or advice.

I need help for sure. Just a support group would help immensely. 

I can't wait to get better. I know that day will come. It has to.

[PLEASE]