My Everyday Battle with Depression

The smart, overachieving 14 year old girl that you met in high school has a secret of her own. There's a reason why she doesn't speak aloud or laugh with you when something really funny happens. She can't feel. She can't laugh. There's a storm cloud over her head that only she can feel and no one else sees it. "Why don't they?," she wonders. Because she's the go-to person when everyone needs help but she has no one when she needs to vent or cry. Therefore, she's alone. That loneliness comes from her fight with depression. An inner fight that no one else can see.

I was 14 when I began to show signs of depression. It happened, well it was triggered when my cousin went missing for a week and was found, tragically murdered in 2009. Her case was ruled a suicide despite all of the evidence that was available to charge someone and I couldn't handle it. I completely lost myself when she went missing. I had never experienced death so closely until this time. I had lost people previously but never had I lost someone I grew up with and was close to.

I shut myself off from the world. I stopped eating. I lost the motivation to go to school. When I did go to school, I skipped class(es) and showed no emotion towards my grades. I was a freshman in high school. I had mostly honors classes. But while she was missing, none of that matter. I remember breaking down crying on the shoulder of my science teacher. I remember crying during each period. Unfortunately, now I can't cry because during that time I convinced myself that crying was a weakness and I wasn't that weak. My happiness disappeared after my cousin Tiffany was found dead.

From 2009 to 2013, I severely showed signs of having depression. No one believed me. I couldn't sleep which later turned into sleeping too much. I couldn't concentrate on tasks or homework and struggled to keep my focus. I felt hopeless all the time and talked highly of suicide and dying. I couldn't control negative thoughts from entering my mind and leaving me tired some days. I wasn't social. I was as quiet as a mouse when it came to people I didn't know but wanted to know. I stopped eating as I said before. I thought my life was not worth living. I voiced these opinions but no one listened. I was drowning in a sea of hopelessness and no one cared enough to pull me out. It wasn't until this year that I got help. I struggled with depression for so long and alone that it got worse.

In May 2014, my symptoms of depression soon became symptoms of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia is a mental disorder that makes it hard to tell the difference between what is real and what is not, think clearly, have normal emotional responses or act normally in social situation. I began to show symptoms in September of 2013 when it came to school and not wanting to attend because I couldn't focus. Soon after, I began to hear voices that weren't there. Voices that seemed to hate me more than I hated myself. To make things worse, the voices were of my own but there were multiple voices. They would tell me to do crazy things and were very suicidal. Some nights I would cry myself to sleep because they were just that bad.

I finally sought help in June of 2014. I did a questionnaire and intake at a a place called Central Access which was a smaller version of Rescue Crisis. Rescue Crisis took of care of situations that need immediate attention. I heard about them through a school counselor. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. It is a form of depression that is a mood disorder in which feelings of sadness, loss, anger or frustation interfere with everyday life for weeks or longer. For me, my depression was for months on end. What took me so long to seek help was that I was afraid of being put in a psychiatric hospital. My mother had been there in October of 2013 and my best friend in January of 2013. I was afraid of being put there. But when I finally went to get help, I was promised that I would not be put there. Thank God! I feared that a lot.

Sadly, there was a backup of people being seen so I wouldn't meet with a doctor until August 19 and it was currently July 1st. My voices got worse and I ended up having a manic episode and took on 3 jobs! I was driving myself batshit crazy and no one was there to stop me. No one could. I felt no one cared. Eventually, my mother caught on to my manic episode and rushed the doctor's office to get me in as soon as possible. I'm glad she did because they immediately put me on drugs to see if my voices and depression could be controlled. They started with two pills. One at night and one in the morning. They both made me sick so I had to quit taking them. Next, they gave me Latuda and some other drug. The other drug didn't work for my depression but the Latuda did its thing getting rid of the voices.

My schizophrenia was finally under control and I could think freely again. My head was so clear that in August, I wrote and scheduled a bunch of new posts. I wish I could say that was my happy ending with my fight but it wasn't. It was just the beginning. On September 5th, 2014, I had a major breakdown and couldn't stop crying. I woke up with my mind made up of suicide and I proceeded to the kitchen to do so. It was a Friday. My mother was supposed to be at work that day but to my surprise she was in her bed. She heard me get up and called me to her room. I went and began to cry as I explained to her what I got up to do. She was shocked. She didn't know what to do but she did get me help. I was scheduled to meet with a doctor the next week. She held me as I cried and promised me it would get better.

The next week I went to the doctor's and my grandmother accompanied me just in case I couldn't get my feelings out. I had lost motivation to go to school, work or even be with friends. I wanted to sleep all the time. I battled with this and a new medication all the way up to November. They continually up'd my dosage to make me feel better. When in fact, I thought I was crazy. I have to take two pills to feel "normal" like everyone else. It was hard to adjust to. I began to not sleep at night. In came another pill. I felt like the pills were just mind control. Like they're just making me worse to get better. I don't know. I didn't feel like a better me. I felt like a weirdo. "No one else has to do this to be happy," I thought. But that wasn't true at all.

A downside to the medication is the one that controls the extra voices has caused me to gain a lot of weight. I now have to lose about 20-30 lbs but I was never happy with myself anyway. This is just more motivation to get in shape. The medications work. But sometimes I feel what is known as amotivation. It is when you don't have the motivation to do anything. I feel that a lot.

Each day I battle depression along with schizophrenia. I want you to know this story was hard for me to put out there. Its extremely hard for me to discuss. I pray that your opinion of me doesn't change. I'm not crazy. I'm not as different as you. I'm just trying to live life right until its over. I hope you can understand that and that someone you know or love may be battling this same battle alone. Be there for everyone, including strangers. You never know when a helping hand could stop someone from committing suicide. & if you're reading this and can relate, email me! I'd love to hear from you.

If you are suicidal and afraid this is the last rope for you, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 18002738255.

You're never alone. Never.

♥

Reisha 

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Ps. Sorry to drop this bombshell on you on Christmas Eve. Enjoy your holidays!