take it slow

I wrote this piece back in April 2024. It went on from November 2023 to March 2024, although I didn't realize it until February. I'm not going to go into the details of what caused it (and please don't try to speculate).
This documents my experience with depression. Mental illness is not exactly a comfortable topic, and for some reason, it is often romanticized on the Internet, but I'm not writing about this to ask for pity or seem "quirky" (if you're wondering why anyone would ever think it's quirky, see Tumblr). It is not fun to have depression. You are constantly exhausted and low and it isn't something you would "want" to have... I was also constantly scared I would do something reckless. I want to include this because I'm in a better state now and I want to be open about reflecting about it.

Also, depression is very common, and it can be caused by just about anything. If you gave me a million dollars I wouldn't believe I could get through it while I was in it. But I did. So if you're struggling, I believe you will get through it too.

Everyday, I woke up feeling intense dread looming over my body and I did not want to get out of bed, but the unproductivity fueled more depression. Once, I told my dad I wanted to go out on a run. I ran for a bit but just continued walking all around the neighborhood feeling exhausted. At this time I didn’t put on my contacts for days at a time, which made the world hazy and even more unreal. When it started pouring, I didn’t even want to run back home. I wanted to get soaked in the cold. I would stay in bed so often and only want to sleep because I suppose it was the closest thing to... death? One week I cried nonstop for five days falling asleep, burying my head in the cushions and soaking my pillow. Throughout the day I was constantly on the edge of tears. One remark might trigger me, send me over reeling. I survived off of medium brew Starbucks but there was a constant pounding in my head from sleep deprivation and I felt cold all the time. I blamed it on caffeine but it was an internal frigidity, one that won’t go away from sitting in front of the heater on full-blast. School days flew by meaninglessly and conversations were held with all details forgotten afterward. I wanted to defy everyone’s expectations and meet them at the same time, anything to make me feel like I was on the right track in life, a good girl who does what she should but also have her own sense of direction.
I vacillated between opening up to people. In Calc, my friend started talking about Silicon Valley Bank shutting down and usually I'd be into this kind of thing, but that day all I wanted to do is crawl in bed. In English, I accidentally pressed the Emergency button on my phone, which alerted my mom and she had to call the school. My English teacher asked if I was okay, and I assured her I was. All these instances when I could’ve told them I didn’t. I was afraid people were gonna think I was helpless and that I was going to be like that forever. Even more so, I was afraid that they would be right: I WAS gonna be like that forever.
But I needed a confidante. Once or twice, I poured out my thoughts to one or two friends like a gallon of unsolicited soured milk. After an impulsive emotional dump, I was so raw and exposed, like a grape with its skin peeled, and so afraid, I told one of them he could leave me if he wanted to. “You can leave me if you want to you know, I’m being very serious right now”. I was afraid I would be too much for him.
I felt three less's: 1) worthless 2) helpless 3) hopeless. I felt like I did not have a purpose in the world and it didn't matter if I didn't exist and that I needed to be punished for not being good enough. (This is wrong thinking, of course, but I was not thinking straight at the time) This stemmed from circumstances, but I think self-talk played a lot into it. If you talk negatively to yourself all the time, you're going to believe the belittling.
I don't know what I wanted or needed to feel better. Somebody to hold me in their arms and tell me I'm worth it? That wouldn't have helped. I needed to realize it for myself, and that was going to take time. The problem was, focusing on mental health was difficult when I was stuck on a carousel and strung like a puppet by academic obligations. I couldn’t pause and devise a way to swim to shore, all I could do was try and stay afloat. I wanted to get better even though that solution was obscure. I read online mental health support articles from Healthline, watched Psych2Go videos and “3 months of depression, documented”, and even resorted to asking ChatGPT the meaning of life, but as usual the generic pieces of information went over my head. I couldn’t stomach them, like whenever I tried to intake those words my body would reject them and throw them up. I begged my mom to take me to the therapist. I even signed up for it online but it cost money. I considered calling a warmline but it was... too real if I did.