As this story unfolds, my mind seems cleaner. It’s not working overtime and it’s not demanding me to think hazardous thoughts.
But I’ve not always had an immaculate mind, bursting with inspiration and ambition. I’ve felt the sting of isolation and the knife against my skin, waiting for me to plunge it into a vital organ. I’ve had feelings of self-destruction, self-hate, and self-loathing control me for years.
Life can be an upward struggle. Especially when you feel the brunt of depressive thoughts niggle at you like an itch. And as the dreams and desires wither, so does the mind. The mind is complex, it can work wonders but it can also terrorise, it can beat you down until you feel small.
I’ve felt small and helpless on occasions where I’ve seen death wrap around people so young and dear. My Father went first. His battle with cancer was traumatic to observe, his fight against a disease that is prolific at wiping people’s lives so rapidly. My Father died alone, aged 52, with no one beside him to hold his limp hand. They said I was too young to see such torment. And my life was showing cracks, my heart belting out for a sense of relaxation and peace.
My Mother’s death followed. My twin Brother found her in her bed early in the morning. She was only 44. And with that blow to my life came sudden tears, tears that streamed for days. My eyes stung, my existence was under pressure, and my coping strategies crumbled. I was in a pit of despair.
Depression came and overwhelmed me, pulling at me like a force. I couldn’t dispel it. I just couldn’t shake it off, it was ingrained in me. And I was only a 14 year old boy playing computer games to try and grind away the sharpness of an illness that is stigmatised. An illness that many feel is a myth. And those two harrowing points in my life are still so vivid. They still shake like earthquakes in my mind but I try to withstand the pressures of feeling lower than Atlantis.
After the dust settled and time passed, I started to fall deeply in love with words and music. My head began to sort words into creative bundles and I became a writer in some respect. I began to write for therapeutic reasons as well as getting my point across. Now, I write for many online music publications giving my thoughts on euphony.
I cope now. My mind is still ablaze, but I have more hope gliding the inner core of my cognition. I’m not entirely fixed, I’m far from being flawless, but I still have my life fully intact. If I can become one with myself then so can others. If you’re in that dark place, fighting off demons, crying your heart out, placing your life into danger, just try and remember there is hope.
Depression is a real. It develops like any other illness. It can carry evil, it can cause so much mental pain, but if you fight for your stance then it can be controlled. Controlled enough so you can enjoy living, so you can have a family and travel the world. Just believe.