30 Day Blogging Challenge: Day 21

Day 21: What Makes You Sad

So about a month ago I curated the AfroBloggers Twitter account and realized that as Africans, we really need to talk about mental illnesses. I promised that I would so I’m going to talk about the thing that really makes me the saddest, my depression.

Many of us silently live with anxiety and depression. Many of us have seriously contemplated suicide but we don’t talk about it. Let me break my silence first. 

Hi, my name is Lynn and I have depression.

I can’t put a date on when I got it or discovered it, I just know that I can recognize it when it’s at its worst. It is consuming at times, it can drown me in its icy cold waters but that isn’t the worst of it, the worst periods were when I felt nothing. I remember being a mostly happy child, but when I got to high school I remember being numb for a long time. I remember doing some ridiculous things to feel something, to feel anything. I went to a private school so yes there were the people who cut and did drugs, which I deeply contemplated myself. It has nothing to do with being extra or trying to be popular but it has something to do with being in a toxic environment with people who are just trying to survive, mentally. I even have a close friend who I’d continuously have to talk out of cutting. I'm not sure who I was trying harder to convince, her or myself. I never did but there was this appeal, in feeling something, or feeling on the outside what you feel inside. Maybe you could bleed the pain out? The pain you don't understand because HEY, you have everything you need! Why are you sad?
It really is as conflicting as I'm describing it. During episodes you're caught somewhere between being really sad or numb and empty while wondering which feeling you dread more.

 I never really worried about my "tendencies" until I turned 16 and felt something for the first time in a long time. I went through a tiny break up, it wasn't a big deal I swear but all these feelings I didn't recognize started creeping up. 

I started contemplating why I’m alive, if I’m just taking up space, if I’m inconveniencing people with my existence, if there was a point to all of this, this being alive thing.  My answers were unsatisfactory so I proceeded with my next move. My dad is a doctor, my mom a pharmacist so I went around the house looking for pills, planned on taking them with alcohol and dying. One of my friends called and realized what I was up to, told me to cut it and drink some milk. I did, and I kept living. Told myself to be numb again only to realize it was worse than the feelings, that that in itself was likely the problem. Every year since I’ve contemplated suicide at least once. It always happens just when I think I’ve finally “outgrown” my depression, my "tendencies". 

I think about it you know. Who would find my body, how my mom would feel, if my dad would blame himself, if my friends would carry on with life feeling like they should have done more. I think about what people would say, how weak I’d look, who would show up to my funeral. I wonder if I’d see my grandmother again, what she would say to me. I think about if my brother would ever really recover. I wonder if I’d occupy this spot in people’s hearts that just hurts, forever. If that would be my legacy. But the depression blinds you, numbs you to all of it, it really does.

My lowest low came in 2015, but in my defence, I was going through the most.
(You don't have to defend or justify your depression. Never, ever, ever. I am still learning.)
 I told one friend and she committed herself to my side, she dragged my naked, crying ass out of bed and told me to keep moving and keep living and she prayed for me, often. She still does. I don’t believe in prayer much but I know it’s her way of loving me and her solution, so I salute her. I’m eternally grateful to her because I would never have survived without her. 

True story.

Last year I went through another extreme low and I told nobody. Not a single soul. But this time the universe sent a boy to save me and he didn’t even know he was saving me, up to now he still does not know that he saved me from myself. But I’m grateful to him, I am.

Depression is this ugly monster that tells you that you’re not good enough, that you’re useless, that your existence is futile. Again and again no matter what you do, what you achieve, who you love, it never stops. You don’t even realize you’re getting stuck in the vicious cycle until you ACTUALLY want to die. It gets hard to keep yourself clean, to keep your room clean, to be a functional member of society. You don’t know how to move, how to function, you barely can wrap your head around breathing. You isolate yourself from the people you love and before you know it your shame due to your filth, your “weakness” keeps you from telling anyone that you need help.

I have learnt to reach out when I’m drowning and I’m always, always, ALWAYS met with love. Anyone who has not met me with love and compassion has been eliminated. I have things to do, moves to make. I cannot be out here justifying feelings that I barely understand to another human. No.
Ironically, I think it has also made me more empathetic, more patient, more understanding. I’m not saying that makes it okay but this is the only life I know so… I’m trying to look at the bright side. Quite frankly my depression also sucks and gets in my way, often.  Everyone around me thinks I’m super strong and I am, I push through every day but when I can’t, I stay in bed and I watch Grey’s Anatomy until I can function again. 

I remember this one period when I was going through a lot and then my phone was stolen on top of everything else. I didn’t leave my bed for a week! I was overwhelmed, I was broken and it took me getting robbed to drive me over the edge.

I’m not writing this expecting pity from anybody, we all have our crosses to bear. I am lucky enough to have a great support system and intuitive girlfriends. I’m learning there is strength in vulnerability which is why I wrote this. I am strong and I am brave and so is anybody living with any mental illness(es). I hope my vulnerability gives you permission to be vulnerable too. I hope it makes you brave, too. Don’t worry about me, I have a whole team of people taking care of me and they're doing a phenomenal job. Myself included. Worry about you, we all need to do better with our mental health. 

What will you do to better care for yourselves or those around you?

Sidenote: If you know anybody who cuts themselves, who's seemingly trying to use suicide to "get attention" please, do what you can to help them, they need your help. If you suspect that anyone you know is suffering from a mental illness, talk to someone who can help them. If YOU want to talk to someone you are free to comment or email me but I recommend a professional. Do not stay silent, that's how the darkness wins.