Maybe if my leg was broken or I was diagnosed with a life threatening illness they would have cared more. It seems that mental illness does not have a place in this world. There are already too many ‘freaks’ suffering from it; one in five Australians. in fact. Sure the physical symptoms of depression may not kill me, but the emotional ones may. I know that I can be stronger and fight my depression – I want an education and a career, I never wanted to be a dropout. Finding the motivation to brush my teeth is a struggle, so you can imagine the pain I feel when people called me a faker. The inner sadness that engulfs me is phenomenal. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. Yet, I would like to see some of the people who ridiculed me go through a fraction of what I have been through for a second and see how they would fight it.
I, like everybody else, have had problems in my life. My parents separating when I was young. I was followed home from school one day and jumped, just because some girls didn’t like me. I’ve suffered the usual bitchiness and name-calling. The saying “sticks and stones may break my bone but words will never hurt me” is so wrong. Being called a ‘whore’ or ‘slut’ while still being a virgin has left emotional scars that feel like they will be with me forever. A simple threat sends me into a hysterical state. While physical scars heal, emotional ones are left there to haunt you for the rest of your life. Some people I have considered my ‘best friends’ have betrayed me. Many haven’t called the whole time I have been sick. I’m forgotten now.
I’m extremely lucky to have a caring and understanding family as well as a boyfriend who would do anything to see me happy. I love them all so much. Unfortunately, you hurt the ones you love most. Your pain becomes directed at them and they take the blame for all the shit the world has dealed out to you. I never wanted to hurt them. I hope they can forgive me.
This was written during the darkest times of my depression. Three suicide attempts followed and my family helped me through them. I am now a happy seventeen-year-old doing my HSC. Upon reflection, the period that I suffered from my depression seems like a bad nightmare. I still can’t believe what I went through and survived. There is always hope, for anyone. There is always someone there to listen.
Jeffersonville High School, 2019