I never knew that I had depression until I was twenty-two years old. The year before I remember sitting in my bedroom with my big pretty Christmas tree and I was in my room thinking about dying. I couldn’t snap out of it. I figured it was my birth control, so I stopped taking it, I later found out it was not the cause.
I couldn’t pinpoint why I was feeling so melancholy. It was the most joyful time of the year. I wasn’t going through anything, my family was in a great place and I had just finished the first quarter of my senior year.
Christmas is more depressing when you are depressed. You are supposed to be happy during this time. I forced myself to think positive thoughts and filled my ears with Christmas music. This didn’t take away the feeling of wanting to die. It felt so simple and easy to just never wake up.
I knew that wasn’t possible. I needed to talk to someone about the way I was feeling. I didn’t want to die even though I felt like I wanted to. The feelings were so conflicting. I didn’t want to pray, I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to lay in my bed and cry and I did.
Then I changed my mind. I began to tell people what was wrong, I started to pray a little more. I wanted to live my life. I knew once I died that was it, there was no second chance.
I would never wish those feelings on anyone. It was one of the worse feelings I experienced in my life. The sad part is the feelings still came back this year, but I know how to handle them. I refuse to not talk or get help. I want to move on past this depression and defeat it. I never want to be in that place again.