Dying on The Inside: Depression

“I mean it, I want to die because I cannot take this anymore,” I texted to my sister as tears paraded down my lethargic face. It was 6AM in the morning, and I was sitting in a dark, abandoned hallway adjacent to the 10 North West Unit at Children's Hospital Boston. A swarm of tears cascaded my tear ducts, and I could not get them to cease; if I'm being brutally honest, I may not have wanted them to, either. Sometimes, after crying for a long while, I actually find that I feel a little bit better. There is a scientific reason behind this that I learned a few years back: When upset, your body gathers a plethora of stress hormones that cause you to feel lousy inside. Upon crying, the stress hormones are hidden within the tears. Therefore, they are being released from the body. No such luck this time, though.

I had been crying for nearly two hours now in the same obscure, forsaken hallway. I had called my dad earlier, but he could only talk for a few minutes because he was stuck in a work meeting. I choked through my words as I spoke to him, they weren't so much words as they were syllables. He could barely understand what I was saying because I was so inconsolable that I could barely manage to pronounce a single word without sobs overshadowing my words. My mom, meanwhile, was dozed off in my patient room located on 10 South. I continued to text with my sister as she prepared for school that morning. I was, at this point, seemingly devoid of all hope. Sobbing in the empty hallway seemed to be the only secure place to cry, as I did not want anyone to overhear me and catch onto my despair. The last thing I desired were nurses or doctors all over me because of my elevated depression and anxiety. I didn't feel as if there was anything they could say or do to make me feel better while there. That, however, is the very essence of how depression works. It wants to keep you isolated, to make you feel as if there is no way out. That's not true, no matter how much it may seem like it at that point in time. In fact, in moments like these, it is most important to reach out to somebody you trust wholeheartedly. Whatever you do, do not sit alone with your depression. It is, indeed, okay to admit that you are not okay.

I felt so incredibly lost; as a young child, I never thought much of my live as an adult. Perhaps that is why I was so astonishingly happy at the time despite all the medical chaos I endured as a juvenile.. I lived in the moment, instead of dwelling in the past or being terror-stricken over what may happen in the future. Even recognizing this, I could not seem to change my ways nowadays. I was brimming with despair and self-loathing, and felt as though I were not worthy of good things coming my way. I hated myself. In fact, I still dislike myself a great portion of the time. I either feel ugly on the outside or on the inside, usually simultaneously. It's quite terrifying because when living a lifestyle akin to this one, it is important to be one of your own best friends. 

Depression is so purely manipulative; from living with it for several years and majoring in it at school, I knew that. Still, I could not seem to move past it. I was on antidepressants that helped a great deal with my OCD, but still left much to be desired in terms of my depression. When I was not in the hospital, I was meeting with my doctor and talk counselor at least once a week. I had just started seeing them over the summer season; what made them unique to other people I had seen was that they actually specialize in working with patients who have chronic illness. I would suggest that any and all patients dealing with this combative disease see a talk therapist at the very minimum. Fight for the help you need and deserve. Don't every allow anyone to make you feel inferior for seeking it, either.

Did you know that 1 in 6 adults receive some type of mental health care in any given year? There is no shame in doing so, and yet our society still stigmatizes people who suffer from mental disorders. Indeed, there is a high (or rather positive) correlation between those with chronic illnesses and mental illnesses like depression and anxiety. When you live your life in a constant state of pain, it is easy to fall into negative thinking patterns. Which is why, according to the Cognitive Model of Psychology, it is adamant to adjust internal processes.

Later on that night, I visited my old nurses on 10 North West. I had seen them earlier in the evening, but it was so busy that we barely got a chance to talk and catch up like we usually do. So, I went back to the main desk to see the nurses and desk staff. At this point, they feel like good friends as opposed to workers. They all hold a special place in my heart as they have seen me at my absolute worst and helped nurse me back to health. We've exchanged countless stories about our personal lives, and somewhere along the lines they became more than just staff, but friendly faces as well.

“You always have a smile on your face,” said one of the girls. “You have such a great attitude despite everything.” "Not always," I laughed softly as I stared down at my feet. I felt a smile widen across my face, but inside I knew it was a facade. All in which I was trying to do was keep it together, to not fall on my knees and start uncontrollably sobbing in front of the staff that was there. 

“But thank you,” I replied. “You guys are honestly the sweetest.” I meant what I said, but the smile on my face was in deep contrast to my dying insides.  

I think it's not so much about wanting to die, as much as it is just feeling as though you cannot handle the burden of the physical and emotional pain anymore. You feel as though you are drowning in tumultous waters, and answers are far-fetched, if they even exist at all. Still, you need to fight to stay afloat until that lifesaver reaches you. I promise in the end it will be worth it, although it may seem like all is lost in the moment. Just keep pushing through, and you will be alright. Just keep pushing.* - A