Worth living for

This story is dedicated to one of my best friends who is currently suffering from depression. I hope she chooses the right paths to make her life turn out all right in the end.

For about a year now I have had this aching feeling inside me that won’t go away. It feels like I’m missing a part of myself and I can’t replace it. The only time I feel remotely happy is when I can make others feel is terrible as I do. I am half my original body weight and have panic attacks at the thought of going outside.

About a month ago I went to see a doctor and was diagnosed with acute major depression. They have given me these strange pills called ‘antidepressants’ that are supposed to make me feel better. So far I don’t feel any different.

My parents said to take the weight of this problem off my shoulders I should tell the people closest to me, the people I trust the most. I told my 2 best friends, Rosie and Josie. They try to understand and I know they are trying to help but they’re not going through the same thing as me. They CAN’T understand.

Rosie told me that I should make a list of everything that I have to live for. She said that sometime in my life I will find something or someone that makes everything better. I tried, but I couldn’t think of anything that made living worthwhile. Josie then suggested that I talk to someone who has or has had depression. She said that they could empathise because they’ve gone through all the same things. But I don’t know anyone with any form of depression. I can’t find anyone to talk to.

It stayed this way until I found out that one of my teachers is on antidepressants because her mother died last year. She has had a really tough time coping. I told my friends about her and they said I should go and have a chat to her about anything I want to know. But I don’t want to. She is depressed. She has her own problems. She doesn’t want mine as well.

But eventually they got me to go. I was nervous at first about confronting the fact that she had depression but once she found out I was in the same position as her she told me everything I had ever wanted to know about my problem.
I go and see her once a week now and we talk about any of the problems that either of us is having. It makes me feel better about life. I finally thought everything was getting better.

But one day I went to see my teacher and I found out that she had committed suicide. The depression was too much for her. Too strong. It overpowered her and drove her to death.
This was when things started to go wrong for me. I lost all happiness and became weak again. I started cutting my wrists and refused to go outside. Although I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep and so I turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I was wasting away.

When my parents found out I was taking the alcohol they removed any traces of drugs from the house and called a professional psychiatrist. But I refused to talk to her. All I could think about was that my teacher had committed suicide when she couldn’t handle it anymore – she took the easy way out.

I tried to plan my own death but my parents moved me to a hospital to keep me under close analysis. There was nothing I could do to end the pain. I begged the doctors to give me a needle, just to end my life and put me out of this misery. I told them I was worthless and just taking up space, but they wouldn’t listen. It made me so angry.

After a few months in hospital someone moved into the ward in the bed next to me. I didn’t talk to him much because he was gorgeous and I knew that he wouldn’t want to waste his time with someone like me. I guessed he was just in here for something minor, like a fractured leg, forgetting that everyone in this ward was suffering with a mental illness.
After a while, I worked up the courage to talk to him and found out that his name was Matt and he was suffering from depression as well. We spoke to each other every day and found that we had the same interests. It was nice to talk to someone again who could actually understand what I was going through. He became my best friend and we vowed to help each other through anything. I began to feel like there was a minor spark of happiness deep down inside me.

So I was glad when Matt asked if we could leave the hospital and live together to support each other. The doctors agreed on the condition that we would be checked up on every few days. Using mainly our inheritance we managed to buy a small apartment with a tiny garden out the front. We were finally happy.

Almost a year later I was looking through an old yearbook of mine and a piece of paper fell out. I picked it up and read it slowly. It was the piece of paper I had used to make a list of everything worth living for. I sadly realised that I had never filled it in – there was nothing but a title and the number 1 written on the page.
But I got out a pen and wrote down number 1. Now I know what Rosie was talking about. It just took me a while, but I managed to find something that made me truly happy. Something that was worth living for.