Robin Williams' passing put a light on depression, and since then there have been several articles trying to educate people on the illness. Personally, I think that it's quite impossible to understand the illness unless you've gone through it yourself.
I've always been a jovial and strong person, and I know that these were some of my strengths that I worked on to keep. My personality was such that friends would often come to me to seek help and I was always willing and happy to help them. This definitely fuelled my love for psychology and definitely explains the reason behind my enrolment in the course in university.
I've heard of the term depression once too often. The term is usually misused, with people claiming they have it for the most minute situations. Such examples: "Oh my god, I'm so depressed I just failed my exams. Life is over." "She's depressed right now her boyfriend just broke up with her."
I think that the true meaning of the word has been robbed. Depression is now linked with sadness, but that is not the case.
I experienced by first encounter with the illness this year. At that point in time, I was already aware that I had three friends who were going through the same problem. Whilst my situation was nowhere near as severe as theirs, I had an inkling that there was a possibility that I had it. However, I thought that since I was aware of such a possibility, it would therefore be impossible that I had it. I thought that people who had it usually aren't aware unless friends let them know something was wrong with them. Their actions would have been obvious, of which mine was not. I later found out that people did notice, but they weren't sure if it was a topic to be brought up.
All I would like to say about my experience was that it was a dark moment and one that I genuinely wish none of my close friends and family would ever go through. Waking up lifeless, with no purpose, and hating yourself to no end was the worst feeling to have gone through. It wasn't that I didn't want to open up to my friends, but who would understand? No one would. I tried once, and I remember that the response was to stop thinking the way I did and to think positive. For a person with depression, asking them to think positive is like asking a cat to bark. It's impossible.
My studies were affected, and it wasn't until I decided to approach a psychologist about six months later that I realised how much help I needed. Speaking to a psychologist helped, because she allowed me to uncover some things that caused it. It was also great to talk to someone who understood why I felt the way I did.
What I do want to say though is that making that first step was definitely difficult. And it was hardest to let my family know that I had it. To make my already miserable state worse, I had to admit that I was sick in the mind. Being labelled as psychologically depressed makes one sound like a freakshow, and I felt like I was tainted and dirty. My soul felt ripped apart into a million pieces. No longer did I seek comfort in the strengths I once had, instead I saw myself as a loser.
But once I made that first step, the road to recovery seemed positive. Looking back, all those tears were definitely worth it. Sometimes you need to understand the reasons behind why you fell victim to the illness. A psychologist helps to uncover the reason. I have to give thanks to mine, she was so supportive and comforting. I have friends who had to change among a few psychologists because the ones they had failed to help them.
What I learnt from this whole experience is this: you can't actually tell whether someone is going through depression. Personally, I think that the signs are only very obvious once the illness gets serious. Prior to that it would be difficult to differentiate between depression and sadness.
To anyone out there who thinks they may be a victim to this illness, I strongly urge you to go seek help. Go visit a psychologist, trust me, you won't regret your decision. I am so thankful to myself for having made that move.
Today, I'm doing better but I still have those moments once in a while. But it takes a lot of effort to help myself get up from the fall.
I am eternally grateful and thankful towards my friends and family who were nothing more but supportive when I told them that I was diagnosed with it. They were nothing but understanding and helped me along the way. What I am most grateful of is that they never once pitied me. Rather they were there to listen to me if I needed to talk, and were more aware of any changes in my behaviour. I never once felt like a freak and found it a lot easier to accept the truth.
Depression is real and it exists, we cannot take it lightly because evidence has shown that it's a devil to a person's brain. People have died from it.
Finally, there is a myth that I would like to address and claim false. This is that people who claim they are depressed want nothing but attention. Trust me, if they are depressed the last thing they'd want is attention. Why do you think they fake their happiness and keep to themselves in the first place?
I'm no expert on this yet, but I sincerely hope to be. I would like to educate people on the illness as well as help the victims. These thoughts are merely my own through my experience with it. It may or may not vary within individuals.
I guess my point is this: Be nice to everyone around you because you really wouldn't know what they're going through. Each has his own battle, but I remember those short bouts of happiness I experienced when I was surrounded with kindness. It helped to lift the fog albeit temporarily.
Lots of love,
xx.
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