Lately I’ve been thinking about ways to get my feelings out, see if anyone is going through the same things, or if I’m truly crazy… I guess we can try this.
I intend for this just to be a day to day struggle of living with depression. Sadly I’ve done all that I can medically and nothing seemed to help. But, before we get into that I want to introduce myself.
Well, my name is Ashley, I’m 21 and currently going to college. I have three cats. Two of them are girls and one is a boy: Jason, Cindy, and Bernie. I have a roommate and a boyfriend. My best friend is pregnant, and I live five minutes away from my mother and two minutes away from my granny.
Just a little background story about my struggle with depression. I started to notice something wasn’t exactly right around the age of 14. I wasn’t going and hang out with my friends, I wasn’t laughing so hard, I always felt sad when nothing was wrong, and I seemed to always have these crazy thoughts. I can’t tell you a time that I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I wanted to be skinny with the perfect long hair and great skin… Sadly my family doesn’t have any of that and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get what I wanted. I stopped eating for about three months and I didn’t lose a pound. I think the only think I would eat would be maybe a few crackers a day and all I would drink is water. The reason that stopped was my granny. She notices everything, but she can’t fix everything. Around the same time I started self harming. I remember the first time I cut myself, it was probably the best release I have ever found. It still is…. I found the dumbest ways to hide it too… For the first year I would cut my left forearm, right on the top. When people would ask I would tell them I got scratched by my cat (I didn’t have a cat then.) Then I moved to the under side of my forearm and no one seemed to notice that, thank goodness. Then as I started to get older and my granny started to catch on I started cutting my right upper thigh. I chose there because no one ever saw that area. When my family would make me go out and do stuff they wouldn’t see the cuts if I was wearing shorts. (My family loved to go out and do things on the lake.)
I moved out of my parents house as soon as I turned 18. I blamed my mother for most of my depression. We were always fighting and everything I did never seemed enough for her. I would get good grades and she would tell me to do better. I wouldn’t get in trouble like my siblings and she would tell me to get out of the house. It was never a winning battle for me. Since I’ve moved out I have started to look for new methods to help with my depression. I tried writing (I didn’t have privacy at my parents house), walking (I would get lonely and scared walking by myself), yoga (I don’t know why I stopped that), and I trekked smoking pot. To be 100% honest, smoking pot helped the most. It didn’t have the normal effect on me. It would make me want to get out and try new things. So I did that for a while until my job offered me a management position that required a drug test. After I took the test I would smoke here and there but I was to afraid of a random drug test that I never got… Curse them for that!
The greatest thing depression ever effected is my relationship… To this day it still does… That hurts the most… He doesn’t understand and I’m not sure he ever will. He’s been my best friend for 8 years, and we have been a thing for about 5 years. I love him with my whole heart, but depression makes it come out weird… I lay in bed most days or on the couch, I don’t like social situations (he’s a social butterfly), I don’t like wearing cute clothes because I feel that everyone is judging my stomach, my fat arms, and over sized thighs. He doesn’t understand that I try everyday to get better and I can’t find the right words to help him understand what’s going on in my head. Sometimes I think he doesn’t help me, but makes it worse. We are always fighting. Hell he sleeps on the couch more than not these days. I don’t know what’s going on with me. Why can’t I be what I use to be?
I’m just crazy now. I cry every day. Why? Who the fuck knows. At this point I think I’m just doomed to be depressed forever. I want fixed. I want to help myself. I want to be happy… I don’t think that’s to much to ask for. The only things that understand me are my cats. They always snuggle me when I cry.
On a side note, I quit my management job in July, went to dunkin donuts, quit there, went to planet sub, quit there, and now I’m at an assisted living for people with dementia.
Another side note, I’m a little tipsy, so please excuse any spelling/grammar issues you find.
Let the world see how you win, no matter how you seem to them. (Kid Cudi, mad solar)