Life's A Fight

I wrote this a while ago when I just couldn't take the depression anymore. I'm sharing this in hopes it'll help someone else.

When I was younger, my parents got a divorce. My brother and I had been shoved in the middle of it, and I’m grateful that it didn’t really have an effect on him. But for me, it was during those arguments between my parents that I learned to smile through my pain, simply because I didn’t want to be a burden. 

Burden; what a big word for a six-year-old to say.

I’d been taken to a week-long class for kids like me, some of those came from a worse background, but I couldn’t understand how I was meant to talk about my problems to a bunch of people dealing with their own share of s**t , I mean stuff. After the week was over I was meant to come out believing that what was happening wasn’t my fault, but I went home and cried my eyes out in the bathroom, unable to hold anything in. I remember locking the door and covering my mouth to block the screaming sobs that were escaping my throat. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks and I latched on to my mother when she picked the lock.

I bursted for the first time in a year and told her that I felt unwanted.

It wasn’t her fault. It was never her fault. It was my father’s.

He was only there in a sense. It felt like he’d just impregnated my mother, divorced her, and showed up for two seconds just to say; “I went and I saw you.” Of course they argued and that always made me feel worse. So I decided that the one mask that I made wasn’t enough.

So I made more.

 I made masks for every emotion that I knew of and I layered them one on top of the other till no one could see my tears. I mended the cracks every time one gave and it was only later when I realized that I didn’t even know what my real smile looked like. I couldn’t even remember my true personality. The girl I’d created had become me and there was no turning back.

Now I’m older and I sort of realize the impact. He’s getting better, he’s honestly trying. He’s coming through on a few promises and is hanging out more with my brother and I. Yet I can’t help but search for the part of him that thought of me like some kind of trophy doll that was only meant to be around when he was bragging. I know I shouldn’t, but still.

For so long I’d blamed him.

He was the reason my grades went down. He was the reason I cried myself to sleep. He was the reason that I felt odd on father’s day and couldn’t explain to my friends why my mother played both parental roles. He was always the reason, and then I couldn’t blame him anymore.

I never wanted pity, I never asked for it, but I’d gotten used to it.

And then my doctor told me I had depression. Everything got worse.

I argued with my grandmother, fought with her, tried to run away from home, and all but completely disrespected her because she was so set in the way she saw the world. Then realized. I’d been blaming my father for everything but another problem was staring me in the face every day.

She would fuss and yell and scream at me but she was never abusive.

She pointed out my faults more than my positives but I never really thought about it. Until I called the suicide hotline because the razor I’d found was suddenly becoming more and more appealing by the minute.

I won’t lie and say that I’d only talked to someone once. No, I’ve called and written around thrity times because I couldn’t handle it. I’d researched ways to kill myself because I had no other outlet and then I found myself on a roof.

It was a dream, so sweet, and so satisfying. I could jump, I could jump and it’d all be over. And I did. I went over the roof with a silent goodbye to those who’d care, and I said a silent prayer as I hit the ground.

It was so real, the feelings, the darkness, the sounds and screams. I was peaceful until I woke up, like something was calling me back. Now, I have relapses every now and then, but I’m getting better, one glass shard at a time.

I know that some people will criticize me and try to talk to me, or ask if I’ve ever cut, but I’m a real person and I have real feelings. But I’m also an unwilling actress. I want to stop acting but I can’t. Every day for me is a stage and I just handle it with a smile because I can’t do anything else while those masks are still glued on.

And I know there’s someone out there going through the same thing and you’re not alone. That’s the reason I started this blog, because I wish I’d met someone like me, someone who could tell me those exact words.

I hope this helped those of you who wanted to know who I was to talk to depressed people and now you know. Sure I’m not certified, but I’ve been through hell too. Maybe not the same kind as other people, but I think you can use that phrase when you’ve been broken down so badly that you don’t know where to begin picking up the pieces of yourself.

That’s why I wrote this in the first place, sometimes someone else’s story can give you the little push you need to start looking for that first glass shard of yourself.

I stopped writing slowly only to mumble lowly to myself as though I was remembering something nostalgic. “Yeah, that’s why I started this blog. Sometimes you need a little unprofessional help because people with degrees just don’t get it.”

Author's Note

This is COMPLETELY UNEDITED! I shared this because I wanted to help someone going through something similar. This is me being vulnerable so please don't send me any harsh comments. I'm still coming to terms with some of the stuff that's still going on.

Reviews

[Desiree O'Neal]

Awe i'm so sorry this happened. I went through something similar as well so I know how it feels.

[Brennon]

This....this is deep. I'm sorry that happened to you.

[Adesanya Yewande]

Wow,is this non fiction ? If it is i feel sorry and the same time happy for the writer for been able to share this story and helping others,cause i believe writing is to inspire or educate others and that has been what this story is about,it educate others like me on depression and inspire me to give life a fight,not to blame others.thanks for sharing this wonderful story.full rating

[SweetWriter88]

Yeah it's nonfiction. Thank you so much for your words. And for the full rating :)