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My story of Depression
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| djSlain |
| Hi. I'm DJSlain and i'm proud to say i am cured of my depression. I've been through a lot in my life and it all climaxed about a year and a half ago. Through therapy, guidance, and wisdom passed unto me, i have decided to help others become more aware of depression. I do this by explaining my story. How i went from suicidal and homicidal into a sociable guy with an excellent sense of humor. Through this i hope i can help someone, if not u, ur friend, or the guy that always looks sad in class. I feel almost obligated to write the following because i am only 1 person in millions who has or is experiencing depression. I look at the stickies and i see lots of stuff that is important. i feel this is important too, life saving perhaps. inspiring? ok ok, here we go. if you don't understand peices of it, don't be afraid to ask. don't agree with my actions, go ahead and give me your side of the story. ok. here we go: |
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| djSlain |
Hello. My name is Erick Lopez and I am recovering from a horrendous bout with depression. I’m not a doctor or a psychologist, but one thing I have is experience. I don’t assign medications, nor to I schedule appointments. But I know how it feels to feel depressed, desolate and deserted. I know what it’s like to have friends who simply say “smile” and inside you feel so fake when you abide by their assistance.
Trust me.
I have decided to write this because I want to let those who suffer from depression know that there is hope. I want people to realize that nothing is impossible. And so thus, I begin.
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Early on into the 8th grade, I knew something was wrong. In the 7th grade I was a happy outgoing friend who was awarded best student overall in my junior high. I had a plethora of friends, 4.0 GPA and quite a happy family. My friends respected me and I constantly kept them laughing with my sense of humor. We would go around, messing around with girls, playing jokes on friends and going to each other’s houses to have some good times. I had straight As and I was known to be quite the nerd. I excelled in all my classes with excellent mature behavior (conceited?). I knew I loved and respected my family and they to me.
The 8th grade started my downfall. I became very confused with what I was feeling inside. I knew I felt different. I wake up around 6 am every morning with time to get ready for school. The first pains came from my stomach. I would eat half my breakfast, and vomit it all into the toilet minutes later. My hands shook uncontrollably and my heart beated hard and fast. Pretty soon, my family became used to the routine and stopped their concerns after maybe 2 months after it all started. If I could choose a time when I felt the worst, it would be the car ride to the school. My stomach turns, I felt like vomiting and having diarrhea. Not only was I feeling sick at home, but now I started feeling them in school. My concern and confusion about myself stopped and I was soon filled with anger. I became embarrassed every morning at school, as I constantly had to ask to go to the restroom, sometimes 3 times a period. I was embarrassed every time I stepped into every classroom. I can only imagine the comments made as I was in a doorless stall vomiting and having diarrhea. I went to the nurse multiple times to try and head home, only to come to a father who thought I was faking sick to get out of school. My grades dropped, my self-esteem was lost and many things had turned against me. But it didn’t stop when I completed 8th grade. It moved on and worsened in the 8th grade, my first year at high school.
At this point, my father and I were no longer speaking to one another. We constantly got into fights, yelling at one another. Our tempers were hot; me and my sick problems, him and his son’s brushes with failure. I had lost the person I would have told about my problems. Me, my siblings and my mom didn’t have the special relationship I had lost with my father.
I finally diagnosed myself with social anxiety and depression at the start of the 10th grade. It was relentless. I was too scared to admit my problems to anyone. My friends didn’t seem to understand what I was going through. They found my behavior humorous.
Now, because I was made fun of so much, I eventually lost my confidence around any peers. I was shy, timid and distant. Because of my shy and quiet behavior, I became labeled as a . Although I do not support homosexuality, I would never use a term that degrades a person’s lifestyle. I was now fighting a wave of depression.
During the summer, I spent much of my time at home on the computer while my friends invited each other to social gatherings. Were these people my friends? From here on I started to isolate from my friends and family. I didn’t talk on the phone. I didn’t eat with the family. I never left the house, even for family vacations. I was slowly fading away from existence.
11th grade the year that my problems would be announced to the world. On the ride home, my mom would always joke around saying that we were going to a psychologist because I looked so sad. My teachers removed me from classes to talk to me individually to ask why I never participated in group activities or take part in class discussions.
In my art class, we were required to write in a journal about a plethora of topics. I wrote very violently, hinting that I was ready to kill others and myself. On top of my list were my friends for moving away from me. They had moved on and left me behind. The art teacher sent me with my journal to the vice principle. Because of my homicidal and suicidal intentions, the school police searched through my backpack. In it were a few chapters of a story I was writing about a school shooting. I had entire papers dedicated to cuss words. They found pictures of people being hanged, being shot and a numerous of other graphic documents. The police came, evaluated me and then sent me to Mesa Vista mental hospital. I was now under a 72-hour hold for observation. I finally came to realize that I was not the only one suffering in the world. I was an adolescent, so they sent me to the third floor, otherwise known as CAP III. They stripped me, searched me and detained all objects that could’ve been used to hurt myself. Namely, my pants with strings to tighten them. They took them and made me wear a ridiculously small pair of pants.
I cried all day in my bed with my roommate watching me. He tried talking to me, only to receive a monotone or muffled response.
7pm. Visiting hours. My mother cried. My dad stared. My two sisters looked on as I suffered. And not only that night. But for the next night and the next and so on. After about two days, I was told I would be held longer than 72 hours. In fact, I had to stay there for 7 days. I was given forms to fill out, a psychiatrist under my insurance, and activities to help me socialize with the rest of the patients. I did what they said and whenever I had the chance, I would hide and cry. Finally, my roommate confronted me about faith. He spoke from his bible and I would listen and object everything he would say. God obviously didn’t care about me enough to rid me of my problems. Dead wrong.
On my 5th day, I was told I was going to be released very soon. However, they said I would still need treatment after my hold. Thus they signed me up for Mesa Vista Day Treatment. I would be in the hospital for the morning and afternoon, and then released to go home in the evenings. I was released from the hospital to go home, finally. I went on my computer, decided to play a game called Counterstrike. My dad came home from work and told me about some changes to occur in the family. Unfortunately, I did not agree with these changes. I yelled at him, ripped wires out of the computer and then ran to my room crying. I thought things had changed, but I was still suffering.
Things HAD changed.
The next morning I woke up and decided to do as my father wished. I took off the violent games, the violent music, anything that would’ve made me relapse into the homicidal maniac I almost became. I started to write. And before I knew it, I had a letter to give to my dad. I gave the letter to my dad. He listened. I listened. We listened to each other and I came to realize that things had changed. However, there was still a long road to recovery.
Day treatment made me feel like I was helping myself. But in truth I knew I was tormented inside. I started to cut. I cut every night for a week straight. I cut my arms and legs. I also began to stab my legs. Lots of blood flowed as I tried to keep it secret from my parents. Ultimately, I stopped hiding it and told a counselor at day treatment. My psychologist promised to keep it secret from the school board, who were “doing all they can to accept be back at school.” I was sent back up to CAP III, kicking and screaming. I hit my head against walls trying to hurt myself. They gave me a pill, put me in confinement and left me at peace. From what I’ve heard from people at mesa vista, my blood is still on the walls. I cannot recall much that happened at this stay. Once again, I abided by the rules and released. However, I had no where to go. My school would not accept me; I was no longer with treatment. I stayed at home for 2 months before the next piece of news came.
I would have to start going to a program called Venture Day treatment, 20 miles away from where I lived. From what I was told, it was a school with therapists. I would get my academics and therapy. Because of low participation and very low spirits, I was sent once again to Mesa Vista. But they had to catch me first. The police came to take me to Mesa Vista. I ran from them. Eventually I had worn myself out and got tackled by the police. They handcuffed me and placed me back in Mesa Vista. Nothing significant all the same stories as the last two visits. Except for Alicia. For the first 2 days at my 3rd stay in mesa vista, I noticed a very pretty girl that seemed to have the social anxiety that I had. I decided to talk to her. She was smart, funny and a very compassionate girl.
Where’s the craziest place to look for girls?
A mental hospital. Haha. O well.
After leaving Mesa vista for my third and final time, Alicia and me had close contact. I eventually went on a date with her and we’ve been in a relationship ever since. But I’m getting off topic. I’m not saying that getting a girlfriend will cure you of all the problems in your life. But I do recommend finding a person who will relate to you and give you assistance when you are down. Some of us have friends, family and in my case, my dear Alicia. And back to Venture.
Little did I know that I was going to go from a timid little person to a friendly outgoing social friend on everyone’s side. I established relationships with the counselors, my therapist and the program coordinator. And most of all, relationships with my peers. The more I talked, the less anxiety I had. The less anxiety I had, the more of my that I expressed. I was friends with most of the peers there. At this point, I can say that my socialphobia had been cured. I had friends. I was no longer depressed. I wasn’t angry and frustrated with myself.
I was told that I did have a single issue to be dealt with. I constantly stood up to protect my friend. Someone would harass my friends; they would have to deal with me. I was told to let the people in the conflict resolute, but I was not just going to lay back to see my friends to be treated by, pardon the language, s. When I see injustice, I try and resolute it. If I have to stand up for someone who won’t defend himself, I take his back. I have zero tolerance to those that want to harass my peers. I never found out about this subject. Those who would like to respond to this essay, I’m all up for getting feedback about defending the weak.
Just a few months ago, I was released from Venture. I was not the Erick I was a year ago. I was a brand new Erick. I could socialize, I could joke, and I could embarrass myself for the humor of others. I felt much better about myself. I remember scoring a home run and doing cartwheels around the bases. That’s how good I felt. My academics were up. My spirit was high. And now I am becoming successful by planning businesses and coordinating my future education.
Hi. I’m Erick Lopez. I’m a 17-year-old Hispanic computer geek who loves to get out in the world. When my parents say we are going shopping, I go with them. I don’t care if my friends see me with my parents. I want to get out there and see what is beyond the television or computer screen. I go to computer parties and try and meet as many people as I can. I’m starting to plan my college life. I was once interested in Microskills, an expensive comuter school, but now I am heading for Bachelors in computer networking. My friend and me are currently planning a business of selling custom-made computers. We also plan to make sub-businesses to expand our market. He would like to create computer graphics and web design. I would like to build networks for new or upcoming businesses. My dream in the future is to become a Cisco Network Specialist. $$$ I feel great every morning and try and cheer up my family as much as I can. Sometimes I can go over the line and my sisters will yell, but I guess that’s NORMAL for every family. I’m glad about who I am because I am an individual there is no one like me and there never will be. I have lots to bring to this world. If I wasn’t here, who knows, I could’ve won the lottery a day after I died. Everyone has a choice to how he or she feels. The world can be cruel at times. We can’t control that. But we can control our response. In all, I hope this reaches a few people suffering from depression. You are not alone, and yes, there is help. Don’t hide behind your door. Get out there and find it. How do u expect to get help if you don’t ask for it? Make the right choice. I know I did.
Life is 10% what happens to you. The other 90% is how you react to it. |
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| AnotherWay83 |
| awesum story d00d, glad u posted it, glad u're back on track :D |
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| Maaz |
Wow... I've read the whole story and I'd like to thank you for posting it. It's very touching, and I feel better about my sadness now, because I see the light is not so distant :)
(even because my problem now seems a lot more simple to be solved) |
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| uwmadtrance |
| One of the few times that I actually sit down and take the time to read a long post on this forum, and I'm glad I did. It was great to hear your story and hear how you gathered the strength to work towards your goals and overcome your anxieties. I am also affected by mild social anxiety and once in a while slip into mild depression, and your story is truly inspiring. |
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| fr0st |
| awesome story m8 im glad you your doing good. |
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| Rakoon |
| Inspiring story man, good work. I also like that last line you used. |
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| RWC0412 |
Thanks for sharing mate, and I am so happy you got everything back to normal, the way you wanted it!
It is true about the person you spend your time with /relate too etc.
Because I have a girlfriend and she is currently suffering from depression as well, and im there for her every step of the way,tending too her needs, because I know she is a beutfiful person and she does so much for me,and im willing to do so much more for her back, Im glad you found someone like that also!
And especially to help you out with the needs you had. Thanks for posting that.
:) |
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| cycloptor |
| :) ;) :) thanks. |
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| kewlness |
wow... very well written...
That is the most encouraging/uplifting thing I have EVER read...
Glad to see that you've grown back to appreciate life and all it has to offer you and all that you have to offer!!!
I would distribute that essay if i were you... lots of people need encouragement like that...
cheers m8! |
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| Sugarbean |
| quote: | Originally posted by uwmadtrance
One of the few times that I actually sit down and take the time to read a long post on this forum, and I'm glad I did. |
my thoughts exactly.
im glad your back to the place you want to be. its people like you who share their story, who arent afraid to admit that they were hospitalized, who in turn raises awareness about anxiety and depression which also cuts down on societys stigma conserning mental health and treatment. |
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