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Depression from a First Person Perspective

Updated on March 1, 2018
By Judithcarlin (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons
By Judithcarlin (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons | Source

Depression kills. It kills relationships, self-esteem, career, dreams. Writing from the perspective of someone who is suffering from this condition and not afraid to speak up, it's a mental disorder many say. But my life is good. I have a loving and supportive family. My friends are accepting of my flaws and idiosyncrasies. It's just that some days I experience some emotional turmoil that I couldn't explain the roots of. I become surrounded with anxiety and headache tensions and I'm just scared to face people or walk in the streets by myself. Then I will sleep the tension off and wake up feeling weaker and more dejected than ever before. Some days, sleeping the anxieties off brings good results. I wake up feeling relaxed and alive. It's a mix of emotions every time though. Suddenly, tears will just come rushing down my cheeks. And like this moment as I am typing these texts I feel swallowed up by feelings of regret, morose, gloom, uncertainty, envy, and assessing my life and concluding that it is wasted. These dark thoughts scare me sometimes. I don't know where they will lead me. But one thing I am in control of is how to continue to show to the world and to the people around me that I am perfectly fine, that I am contented and living a life with glee and positivity. Why am I writing this? Because I don't feel like writing academically. I don't feel like pretending I am an intellectual. I don't feel like being what other people would like me to be. I just feel emptiness that only penning could fill that void. And so I turn to writing as an outlet every time I feel depressed. Depression kills to the core. Maybe soon I would need to seek a therapist. They say it's good to remedy something in its earlier stage and save you from more disgrace and desperation. If by any chance I would get healing, it's either therapy or the will coming from within me that initiates a freeing of myself. This piece may not deserve publishing but it's me talking as first person and experiencing what many could also be suffering from. It pays to be upfront. Gone is the mask. Tomorrow when I wake up, I hope it's a better day as I continue to accept who I am and become willing to find ways to fix this damned state.

© 2018 Flo


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