Twenty One Years

I am having to talk about my early childhood in my psychology class, and I can barely get through it. I break down crying. I have to take breaks while writing sometimes.

A few weeks ago in the class, I had to talk about what was happening psychologically. I didn’t know what was happening back then, but I know now, and honestly, I don’t know how I’m still alive.

I had suicidal thoughts at the age of 6, but I never thought it was a big deal. By the time I was 10, it was a normal thing happening in my head almost daily. I don’t remember much from before age 6.

School was always so difficult for me. I always had a hard time focusing, but it wasn’t to the extreme of being ADHD. I could focus enough to get the assignment done. My brain always felt like it was on overload, and still does to this day now that I’m in college.

I’ll be 27 in October. It’s scary to know I’ve been battling depression for at 21 years. But while I have that unfortunate statistic under my belt, I have a life ahead of me that could be without depression. Maybe in another 27 years, I’ll be a happy and healthy 54 year old. Maybe with a husband a couple of kids. A dog and a cat. Maybe some chickens in the backyard and a horse in the stable.

It’s something to look forward to, and to pray for. God may (and probably does) have a completely different plan for my life, but the people (and pets) in my life need me, right? Maybe in the future when I’m feeling worthless, I can go back to this next paragraph.

Yes, you battle depression. But it doesn’t have to be forever. Fight hard. Fight with your fists in the air and your feet firm on the ground. Don’t let it move you. If you let it move you, you only go backwards. Your future is waiting for you. It wants to meet you. It wants to celebrate the good times with you.

If you’re in the same boat as I am, don’t give up. We’ll fight this thing together.



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