Thoughts on Depression
Just some thoughts I thought I'd share as I'm trying to post something about writing every week.
In my latest chapter of 100 Love Letters, chapter 23, I had Nikita speak out about the depression he suffered as a teenager. He went on TV and shared that a song he'd written, about a girl who tried to commit suicide by swerving into oncoming traffic, was really about himself.
A few people have asked me how I managed to get the emotion into the scene where Nikita and Amy shared their subsequent stories about their painful pasts with suicide. It's not something I really talk about often, but it's not something I'm trying to hide either. When I was a teenager, for several years even into my early twenties, I was horribly depressed. Not like, deep dark can't get out of bed depressed. The horrible adverb applies more towards the fact that I had it from age 12 to about 21 or 22. THat's ten years of my life that I spent unable to be happy. Sure, I had moments of joy, but on a day to day basis, I didn't understand what happiness really was.
I was diagnosed with dysthymia. Clinical deprssion is usually marked by periods of deep, dark depression punctuated with periods where your mood lightens a bit. Not always, though. I was the opposite. While I was never happy, most of my time I spent just under regular contentment level, puncutated with spikes of deep depression. The worst was probably when I was both 15 and 19. Both times where when I honestly contemplated committing suicide. It's extremely frightening to think about now, but when I was a kid... all I wanted was to just be as dead as I felt.
When I didn't feel dead, I felt so incredibly unhappy, angry, and hateful. None of these emotions or lacktherof are in any way easy to live with. It's incredibly tiresome and unhealthy, physically and mentally. So you can see how easy it was for me to slip into both Nikita's and Amy's heads when it came to Nikita's depression and Amy's father's suicide.
I never made an attempt. I'm glad of that, but I was nearly put into a psychiatric hospital when I was nineteen when I locked myself in a bathroom while talking to my parents and wouldn't come out. My parents didn't know what to do and I eventually came out because I was afraid of being put in a hospital with strangers. I was sent to counseling (again, I'd had counseling at age 15 as well) and anti-depressants. THe pills only made me sick, and combined with the fact that at that age I started developing my Crohn's, I was one unhappy camper.
Counseling never worked wonders for me, especially since I never felt like I could be honest with the counselors. My first one would tell my mother things I didn't want her to tell. I didn't realize that there was that whole confidentiality thing, I just assumed she could tell my mother whatever she wanted because I was a minor. So I kept quiet. And when I went to the counselor when I was 19, I was so unhappy with everything that I just didn't care anymore. I don't remember much about my sessions with either counselor.
I'm not entirely sure how I emerged out of my depression. I want to be like Nikita, when he said singing helped him. Or that my love of music pulled me out. But the truth was, I didn't start really getting into the emotion and lyricism of music until after I started getting better. I've always sung, but never got serious about it until, once again, I started getting better. I don't even remember the day it was when I thought to myself, "I'm happy. I'm content with my life."
Of course, being content with my life wasn't very long lived. A shitty relationship with a manipulative, and cold-hearted man will do that for you. I wouldn't say I'm content with my life now, and I wouldn't say I'm happy now, but for a couple glorious years, I really was. I was happy and I could face the world without fear.
I'm like Nikita, in that being happy is extremely hard for me. I learned the hard way that you can't depend on other people for happines. I can't depend on me for happiness either. I don't know where to find happiness, but the fact that I had a couple years in my adult life of just knowing I was all right, well, that's given me a hope I never had before. So even though I'm struggling, I'm not in that dark place I was all throughout my teenage years. I even know WHY I'm struggling this time, which is a help.
Essentially, Nikita is me. I'm more like him that I'm comfortable with sometimes, from his selfish lie, to his earnestness in caring for someone, to his struggles with depression and his love of singing. Most of the time, the female protagonists have the most of me in them. This time, it's darling Nikita. Him and me, we've both been through a lot.
Depression is a very, very hard thing to cope with. I always felt horridly alone, especially in my darkest hours. I felt like no one loved me. It didn't help that sometimes my mother could be less than understanding with me. I've never really kept friendships easily. I have maybe one friend I still talk to from high school. I didn't make any friends when I went to college, and while I do have acquaintences in my school's choir, I don't consider any of them real friends.
Being an depressed introvert is pretty terrible, let me tell you. But if anyone out there reading this is dealing with depression or suicidal thoughts, please know that you're not alone. My heart goes out to you. You're not alone.
In my latest chapter of 100 Love Letters, chapter 23, I had Nikita speak out about the depression he suffered as a teenager. He went on TV and shared that a song he'd written, about a girl who tried to commit suicide by swerving into oncoming traffic, was really about himself.
A few people have asked me how I managed to get the emotion into the scene where Nikita and Amy shared their subsequent stories about their painful pasts with suicide. It's not something I really talk about often, but it's not something I'm trying to hide either. When I was a teenager, for several years even into my early twenties, I was horribly depressed. Not like, deep dark can't get out of bed depressed. The horrible adverb applies more towards the fact that I had it from age 12 to about 21 or 22. THat's ten years of my life that I spent unable to be happy. Sure, I had moments of joy, but on a day to day basis, I didn't understand what happiness really was.
I was diagnosed with dysthymia. Clinical deprssion is usually marked by periods of deep, dark depression punctuated with periods where your mood lightens a bit. Not always, though. I was the opposite. While I was never happy, most of my time I spent just under regular contentment level, puncutated with spikes of deep depression. The worst was probably when I was both 15 and 19. Both times where when I honestly contemplated committing suicide. It's extremely frightening to think about now, but when I was a kid... all I wanted was to just be as dead as I felt.
When I didn't feel dead, I felt so incredibly unhappy, angry, and hateful. None of these emotions or lacktherof are in any way easy to live with. It's incredibly tiresome and unhealthy, physically and mentally. So you can see how easy it was for me to slip into both Nikita's and Amy's heads when it came to Nikita's depression and Amy's father's suicide.
I never made an attempt. I'm glad of that, but I was nearly put into a psychiatric hospital when I was nineteen when I locked myself in a bathroom while talking to my parents and wouldn't come out. My parents didn't know what to do and I eventually came out because I was afraid of being put in a hospital with strangers. I was sent to counseling (again, I'd had counseling at age 15 as well) and anti-depressants. THe pills only made me sick, and combined with the fact that at that age I started developing my Crohn's, I was one unhappy camper.
Counseling never worked wonders for me, especially since I never felt like I could be honest with the counselors. My first one would tell my mother things I didn't want her to tell. I didn't realize that there was that whole confidentiality thing, I just assumed she could tell my mother whatever she wanted because I was a minor. So I kept quiet. And when I went to the counselor when I was 19, I was so unhappy with everything that I just didn't care anymore. I don't remember much about my sessions with either counselor.
I'm not entirely sure how I emerged out of my depression. I want to be like Nikita, when he said singing helped him. Or that my love of music pulled me out. But the truth was, I didn't start really getting into the emotion and lyricism of music until after I started getting better. I've always sung, but never got serious about it until, once again, I started getting better. I don't even remember the day it was when I thought to myself, "I'm happy. I'm content with my life."
Of course, being content with my life wasn't very long lived. A shitty relationship with a manipulative, and cold-hearted man will do that for you. I wouldn't say I'm content with my life now, and I wouldn't say I'm happy now, but for a couple glorious years, I really was. I was happy and I could face the world without fear.
I'm like Nikita, in that being happy is extremely hard for me. I learned the hard way that you can't depend on other people for happines. I can't depend on me for happiness either. I don't know where to find happiness, but the fact that I had a couple years in my adult life of just knowing I was all right, well, that's given me a hope I never had before. So even though I'm struggling, I'm not in that dark place I was all throughout my teenage years. I even know WHY I'm struggling this time, which is a help.
Essentially, Nikita is me. I'm more like him that I'm comfortable with sometimes, from his selfish lie, to his earnestness in caring for someone, to his struggles with depression and his love of singing. Most of the time, the female protagonists have the most of me in them. This time, it's darling Nikita. Him and me, we've both been through a lot.
Depression is a very, very hard thing to cope with. I always felt horridly alone, especially in my darkest hours. I felt like no one loved me. It didn't help that sometimes my mother could be less than understanding with me. I've never really kept friendships easily. I have maybe one friend I still talk to from high school. I didn't make any friends when I went to college, and while I do have acquaintences in my school's choir, I don't consider any of them real friends.
Being an depressed introvert is pretty terrible, let me tell you. But if anyone out there reading this is dealing with depression or suicidal thoughts, please know that you're not alone. My heart goes out to you. You're not alone.