The Power Of Love

Depression

9. Depression

          Apparently, depression is something that we all must endure at some point in our life. It's almost inevitable to avoid depression, deceptively it's a feeling that jumps from human to human. Sadness is human nature; there's not one single person in this world that hasn't experienced the feeling before. It's normal; it's okay if you're sad, that's what society says yet they judge you when you can't get over that sadness.

I was twelve years old when my depression kicked in, it was simple and understandable for a twelve-year-old girl to feel that way; because well my father was dying. It started with isolation; I stopped going out with friends, they stopped inviting me, I stopped socialising, I stopped everything. I was alone and people allowed it to be that way because I needed the space to come to terms with the fact that my father was ill and was slowly dying.

My father died a year later after being on life support machine, my depression increased, it turned into something I never thought I would experience at such a young age. The anger came, the tantrums, the screaming, and the rebellion. At thirteen years old, I wanted to hurt those around me, I wanted them to feel the pain of losing someone you love, I had a tantrum one night where I was screaming my head off, crying and asking why, why did my dad have to die?

I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door and ignored my poor grieving mother crying, pleading for me to let her in. I used the scissors and I cut my hair, my beautiful long brunette locks were gone just like that. Linda wasn't angry when she saw my hair, instead, she embraced me in a hug, and reassured me that it was all okay, that I was still beautiful.

I didn't feel beautiful and I didn't feel like it would ever be okay. It was like this big black hole was in my chest and it didn't matter what I did, it still wouldn't go, I could cry and cry for hours and still it was there, still, It was hurting so much, still I wanted to die. I could cut myself until I was out of blood and still the pain that lived inside my chest was hungry for something.

After the tantrums, I started rebelling, staying out late, getting drunk with random people, piercing my nose, my navel and getting a tattoo on my hip. At thirteen years old, Linda was furious, but still, she comforted me because it is what is expected of a girl who just lost her father. Everyone in town sympathised with me.

It was worst during the night when I tried to sleep, I couldn't, and I was always scared to close my eyes because what if they never opened again. I was petrified of the darkness, I stayed up thinking about my father, thinking about how much of a good person he was and then this anger rose up inside of me. I trashed my bedroom, broke everything in sight, ripped up my clothes, ignoring my mother who once again cried with me, ignored my scared isolated little brother who was also grieving for his father.

I left the house angry, needing a release I started to throw rocks at the neighbour's house. I ignored my mother and all the other residents who came out watching as I broke every window in sight. The police arrived and they did nothing but warned me, because I was the kid who just lost her father, it was expected of me.

Gradually over the years, my depression worsened, but something changed. Suddenly no one was sympathising with me, because after three years of losing someone, you are required to get over it. I needed to get over it, I needed to move on because everyone else had. But, I didn't know how to move on, everyone forgot about him, people were moving on and doing this. I didn't know how to forget, I couldn't forget.

Linda redecorated the house, there were no photos of him in sight, nothing that could remind us but still I couldn't move on. I became the reminder of my father, I became the broken obnoxious kid that couldn't get over her dead father. So, I tried to kill myself the first time by taking 160 ibuprofen and downing it with raw vodka, I was found collapsed by the beach and was taken to the hospital.