For 13 years, I have lived in your cold, dark, terrifying dungeon. No more, Depression. I want you to go.
You came into my life at the tender age of 9. I didn’t know what you were, but you immobilised me, and took me away from the life I knew. I lived in a bubble you made, so thick I couldn’t break out. You kept me hidden in my room, existing but not living.
You haunted me when I moved to a new country, made me believe everything the bullies said was true. You made me think I was a wierdo, a freak, and that no-one loved me. You drove wedges between my family and me, and pushed everyone I loved away.
Every night, when my tears poured, you would scream in my ears. You would keep away anyone who might have wiped my tears and eased my pain, anyone who could have told me you were wrong. When I couldn’t block you out, the vodka, marijuana and pills became my safety blanket.
You stomped on my confidence and made it disappear. You made sure that whatever bad things I heard about me, I believed. You made certain that I would never feel attractive, or confident.You made me fall for bad people, your tricks making me believe that any attention was equal to love. You let that guy beat me. You let him try to rape me. You made me suffer so much that I wished I was dead, and you made me try to take my own life a few times too.
When I escaped that part of my life and entered adulthood, you followed me. You still wouldn’t let me have any confidence in myself, or my abilities. You made me fight with my friends, and refuse every compliment they ever gave me. How many times could my confidence have been boosted if you’d let me say “thank you” to that compliment? How many times could I have felt happy being surrounded by my friends? Probably over a million … and you ripped all those opportunities away. You’ve twisted my thoughts for so long that compliments now make me feel sick to my stomach. The fear of losing my friends is always real, because you make me fight against them when they say nice things. You make my stomach churn, and my heart race. You give me panic attacks. But of course, you don’t care. That’s how you want me to be. You won’t rest until I’m alone, having lost everything all over again.
But I can’t do this anymore. I’ve lived too long trying to please others, because you have told me that it’s the only way anyone else will like me. I want to be able to feel happiness. I want to be confident. I want people to see me, and to realise my potential. I don’t want to live in the shadows anymore, I want to know who I am. And most importantly, I don’t want you anywhere near my beautiful little girl. I want to recover so that you can be out of our lives for good.
For 13 years, I have lived in your cold, dark, terrifying dungeon.
No more, Depression. I want you to go.
To help people in Chazz’s position, the Australian mental health charity Depression Is Not Destiny has just launched a platform to crowdfund the cost of therapy for people suffering from depression who can’t afford it. If you’d like to find out more about Chazz’s campaign, you can watch the video she made below, and make a donation here. If you’re in a similar position to Chazz and would like to create your own campaign to crowdfund the costs of your therapy, please visit Depression Is Not Destiny’s website at www.depressionisnotdestiny.org.