Depression: My Story.

A year ago, I suffered from depression.

It was not due to any impactful events in my life. I had not have any breakups nor did I lose someone during those period of time. It just happened. It attacked me when I least expected it.

I was still struggling to complete my Degree, half-way through. Being abnormally underweight (but not anorexic or bulimic), I did not care about eating at all. I remember just eating anything edible, anything I could scrap for nearby, for lunch and dinner (I skipped breakfast a lot), such as biscuits and junk food. Not because I was on a tight budget and most definitely not on a diet. I just didn’t felt like eating, no matter how hungry I was. I had some urges to eat, like all of a sudden I felt like eating spaghetti. But the saddest part of it was that, I could only take a small bite and I’d lose my appetite, just like that. I lose it all.

So, I ended up with an ‘epiphany’ that ‘People are gonna die anyways’. Even if I eat healthily and consistently, I am going to die, someday somehow. So, I stopped caring like it was the end of the world for me.

From the thoughts of not being able to enjoy eating, it attacked my will to study. I was constantly thinking ‘Fuck this shit, the world is temporary, nobody has the right to judge me based on my academic achievements, it all wont matter when I die’ etc. I had all these negative thoughts about life and I couldn’t be happy. I felt soul-less, like something/someone came out of nowhere, grabbed the living shit out of me and left me empty.

I attended my classes feeling unhappy and somewhat languorous. It somehow showed inadvertently with my moody face and my refusal to talk to anybody. I had a Law class where the lecturer was always saying the ‘happy’ word like, ‘That happened and everybody turned out happy’ or ‘It ended up to be nobody’s mistake, so it’s a happy ending’ etc. I was so depressed that every single ‘happy’ word she uttered was like a knife jabbing all over my body and I ended up posting a status on Facebook about how ‘the word happy loses its meaning when it’s excessively used’.

As a reserved and private person, I did not think that anyone would give a shit. It’s more like I hoped nobody cares.  I was strolling around KLCC, after a visit to Kinokuniya for a ‘mood relieving session’ which was usually effective but failed for that particular day, when a text came up on my phone from a classmate, asking if ‘everything is okay lately’ and that he and a bunch of our friends will be there if I needed anything.

I responded, typically, that I’m okay. just had not have enough sleep which explained my tired and somewhat swollen eyes. When in fact, I cried the day before, while texting one of my close friends about how ‘I could not do this anymore’. She thought I was talking about my studies and gave me some encouragements about it. I ended up not telling her the whole damn story about being depressed and stuff.

Tired of feeling miserable and pathetic, one day I decided to join a couple of friends for dinner (which I oftenly didn’t). We were just chatting away about bunk unimportant stuff when suddenly one of us made a joke and we laughed hard till our tears fell down.

And that’s the starting point for my road to healing.

I did not go for any counselling nor did I tell my parents and family about what I’ve been through. I was afraid of the judgement of my peers and the people around me, because being depressed is often related to poor spirituality/faith, which is NOT ENTIRELY true. Regardless, I kept everything to myself like I always do about most things even when I know the best way to deal with it is to tell someone I could trust, that could give me sound advice and support to carry on. But with my trust issues, there was no way I’d tell.

A year passed by like the blink of an eye, while I fight against being constantly pathetic and sad. Fighting alone was hard and challenging. What I did was force myself to think positively every single day and do things I knew would make myself at least happy, even if its for the littlest bit. I learned to watch movies by myself and treat myself to good meals once in a while. I learned to laugh by watching comedies. I learned to join my classmates for lunch and sometimes, dinner. I spent some quality time with my family. I learned to be strong when it seemed like the whole world was trying to bring me down. I learned to believe and love myself even when nobody else did. I learned to always be kind to everyone because they might be fighting a battle I know nothing about. And most importantly, I learned to put my strongest faith in the All-Mighty.

Whenever I read any depressed/suicidal post on Tumblr, I’ll try my best to give some advice in relation to my own limited experience battling with depression. It may not be much, but I make sure to make them feel better because I know what it’s like to be in their shoes. And I wish to be the person I never got to meet when I was suffering like they do.

I’m healed, maybe not completely. But I try to be by strengthening my faith and every part of my soul that are still weak. The road is indeed long and winding. I wont ever stop running to the end.


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