This Is The Way It Really Feels To Be Depressed In Your Twenties

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By Mortisia Dowler
At the age of 24, I realized that something was wrong with me — not that I was a ‘normal’ person before — but this time, something was really off.

Hobbies and meeting with friends became a chore. I lost interest in them. I would make plans, only to cancel them the last minute.

I found myself thinking negatively more often than before, thinking that I was a failure who worked at McDonald’s when most of my friends graduated from a good university and managed to secure a well paying job with a future full of advancement opportunities. Not that there is something wrong with MacDonald’s, but you know how the society is… unappreciative of anything that doesn’t involve a suit and a tie.

Then the toxic thoughts started. I became insecure, thinking that I am not good enough, that my parents are disappointed in me, that I have fucked up my life big time, that my boyfriend must hate me as I always complain about my job but I do nothing to change it because I don’t have the strength.

Getting out of the bed is a real struggle as I sit there staring at the ceiling, but I have to get out of the bed, I have to show to everyone that I’m fine.

“Mom’s asking you something, don’t be angry at her again, don’t yell without reason. Great, you fucked up again.”

I don’t want to upset my mom and dad, I don’t have a lot of time with them, they are growing old and they will die one day and I won’t know how to live my life after that. I have them here now but I don’t spent time with them either, and I don’t know how to change it, I don’t have the strength to get out of the bed and spent time with them without being lost in my thoughts.

Someone reading this might think that this is not depression, it’s stress or anxiety — but you are wrong — I am perfectly calm when I am thinking these things.

Work is a place that I forget everything, even for 8 hours a day. I usually just work twice as hard, finishing other people’s duties as well, as I don’t want to think anything.

“Smile, be polite, relax your shoulders and keep a neutral face when getting lost in your thoughts, just show to everyone that you have your shit together, even when you don’t.”

I don’t want to remind myself constantly that without any real qualifications you won’t get anywhere, don’t want to remind myself about the rejection of the student loan.

My mind is playing tricks on me, I cant think straight, I overanalyze everyones words and body language as to what they mean and usually it’s something bad.

“They don’t like me, they think I am boring or that I laugh too much.”

You see, when you suffer like that, when you are generally sad, you don’t enjoy anything, not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t no matter how hard you try.

But you want to make other people happy. So you give advice, tell a joke, give a gift, buy them lunch or something, anything.

My mom thinks that I am a bit too good with people and it’s true. Maybe I am too giving because I don’t want them to suffer. I don’t want them to feel hopeless and lost. I don’t want them to lose the energy or the motivation to get up from bed just to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen.

I want them to know that someone is always there, a friend, as I never had any friends in my childhood (that’s another long sad story to be told one day).

It’s not about pity, it’s about being selfless,it’s about offering what you never were offered and that little offering can really make someone’s year. Can actually save a person from suicide or hurting themselves somehow.

My boyfriend picked it up a couple of months back. He said I was different. That was it. Then a couple of weeks later he showed me piece of paper with all my ‘behavioral changes,’ the anger, the constant negativity, my seclusion, my inability to say yes to going out, the television, pretty much everything that was changing in me.

He never told me, you need to think positive, go out for a walk, get some fresh air, it will pass. No he didn’t. He did his research, he started discussing with me stuff about my past, my present. Tried to understand why I feel this way, what lead me to have these thoughts.

He knew I would never go to psychologist, so he became one. I didn’t want to talk to him in the beginning at all. I said I’m fine and it’s nothing and don’t be silly, I don’t do these things on the paper (which of course I did).

My mom knew (of course, mothers know everything), she let me be though, she gave me time before I went to talk to her and she was amazing as always, she reminded me that she would always be my best friend and that I used to talk to her, why suddenly stop?

I don’t want you to think I’m weak. I am not okay still. But I am coping with it, because I decided to open up to people who really care about me and were willing to help me.

It was a big help to talk to someone who wanted to understand what was in my head.

I don’t think I will ever be 100% fine, but I will be enough in order to function better.

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