One of the most difficult things for me is to think back to the exact moment I realized I was suffering from depression. I was 13 and it was early march. My curiosity had creeped in as to why I had differences from the rest of the world. I loved being myself, but not when the person I thought I was suppose to be was acting up. At first I noticed my difference from my friends. They could last the entire day with endless energy, like children should of course, but I would rather have an hour of play then lay inside because I was too tired to continue. I was about 8 then. Again, when I was 11. I know now that I was too naive to understand or to want to understand why there seemed to be something wrong with me. I didn’t want to believe such a thing
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I hoped to tell my family. I knew that I needed help, that I couldn’t do it on my own, but I hid. I have believed ever since I was 5 years old that asking for help made you weak. Now, I believe the exact opposite. I told my brother first. We were in Sweden. Family friends of my cousins had been nothing short of pure rude to him, cheering every time he left the room. The lunch we had with them had left him in this very brief state of suicidal wishes. As he repeatedly told me, “Lili, I want to die” Not only did I feel sick to my stomach, but I remembered I knew what that felt like, and so I helped. It was the only time I had ever been grateful for suffering the way I was. I could help those who felt similar feelings. To help gave him headphones and pulled up Kevin Breel TED Talk on his phone. Once he finished, I explained the video’s relevance to my life. We …show more content…
I forgive my mom the most for not knowing, not understanding. I think my mother is truly the one I love the most in my family, but I often forget that fact out of pure ignorance. A time I won’t ever forget, a moment that had been so difficult for me to share with her. I had told her. It had taken about 2 hours from about 12:00 to 2:00 am. I hated to have to spit out the words, in fear I would be admitting to myself what was really happening. “I suffer from depression” - I had whispered it quietly to myself numerous amounts of times, but stopped when I realized I was slowly becoming comfortable with the phrase, which wouldn’t have been good. My plan was to be rid of it. No longer have to worry about it, that’s why I was going to tell my mother. It was my grand plan. I had tried previously. I had been furiously typing on my computer in my dad’s office, ranting on a keyboard about how close I was to being free, to get help. I got confident in myself and arose from the office but once I passed the stairs I felt myself paralyze. I couldn't move. I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t get it. Was I afraid? But how could I be I had been wishing to tell my mother for months. Hiding all evidence of being this way for months. It was the annual Swedish Summer. I got the chance when my brother refused to come with my mother and I to walk the dogs. Before we left I told my mom, “Mom, I have to tell you something”. I could tell she was nervous when she begun
I hoped to tell my family. I knew that I needed help, that I couldn’t do it on my own, but I hid. I have believed ever since I was 5 years old that asking for help made you weak. Now, I believe the exact opposite. I told my brother first. We were in Sweden. Family friends of my cousins had been nothing short of pure rude to him, cheering every time he left the room. The lunch we had with them had left him in this very brief state of suicidal wishes. As he repeatedly told me, “Lili, I want to die” Not only did I feel sick to my stomach, but I remembered I knew what that felt like, and so I helped. It was the only time I had ever been grateful for suffering the way I was. I could help those who felt similar feelings. To help gave him headphones and pulled up Kevin Breel TED Talk on his phone. Once he finished, I explained the video’s relevance to my life. We …show more content…
I forgive my mom the most for not knowing, not understanding. I think my mother is truly the one I love the most in my family, but I often forget that fact out of pure ignorance. A time I won’t ever forget, a moment that had been so difficult for me to share with her. I had told her. It had taken about 2 hours from about 12:00 to 2:00 am. I hated to have to spit out the words, in fear I would be admitting to myself what was really happening. “I suffer from depression” - I had whispered it quietly to myself numerous amounts of times, but stopped when I realized I was slowly becoming comfortable with the phrase, which wouldn’t have been good. My plan was to be rid of it. No longer have to worry about it, that’s why I was going to tell my mother. It was my grand plan. I had tried previously. I had been furiously typing on my computer in my dad’s office, ranting on a keyboard about how close I was to being free, to get help. I got confident in myself and arose from the office but once I passed the stairs I felt myself paralyze. I couldn't move. I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t get it. Was I afraid? But how could I be I had been wishing to tell my mother for months. Hiding all evidence of being this way for months. It was the annual Swedish Summer. I got the chance when my brother refused to come with my mother and I to walk the dogs. Before we left I told my mom, “Mom, I have to tell you something”. I could tell she was nervous when she begun