23. THE COLLECTIVE #7 & Update
I realized on how much time I spend daily being on social media, mainly Instagram and all that has ever done to me and my mental health is nothing but damage. I wake up every day, making sure that I'm fully updated with all these Instagram stories posted by people I barely even know and most of whom who barely even know me. I spend hours before bed scrolling on people's daily life, making sure that I know what they're up to and all. But yesterday--last night--I thought, just maybe, what if I try to see if I could go on at least 24 hours without Instagram. It has been 23 hours since.
Today I had to go to the immigration to renew my residence and it took me about an hour to get there (walk 20 minutes, train 20 minutes, bus 10 minutes). I knew I had nothing to scroll through during those periods of time, so I grabbed Note to Self and started reading it on the train. I made a really great choice on picking that book out of all the books that I have on my reading list. I continued from where I left, and it's where Connor begins to talk about how he felt quite depressed and selfless, so he decided to leave for London (on a trip) and try to discovers himself.
It took me roughly two hours waiting at the office and I spent about an hour and a half reading, and the other half an hour talking to an old friend whom I met coincidentally, there. I was so into the book, I felt like the world was so quiet--that I could just listen to Connor's voice, reading and telling me all the things he wrote in the book. I came across his channel in late 2013 and have been following him since then. He has this character of his own, that I find very much like the inner me--like if we had one thing that we could connect, it would be our character. Then I left the office together with my friend and we parted off at the station where I went to Starbucks and continued reading for another hour. Now, as I reached further into this book, I could find more of myself actually being written down by a person whom I've never even met and I could bet a million dollars that he doesn't even know I exist. It was so personal, I nearly cried as I was reading. I couldn't just let this one chapter goes by like that, without adding it to my collection. So here goes.
#7 the dark spot on the back of my otherwise effervescent mind - Connor Franta, Note to Self
I won't forget my first year at college. Not because it was especially fun, or filled with endless wild escapades, or even packed with memorable stories. That's not the case. All I remember are the dark clouds following me around, day in, day out, along with the feeling of being boxed in, trapped in an inescapable loop of not being me.
I remember the depression. Or was it a funk? A mere episode? I don't really know for sure what it was. There is no paper trail or second opinion because I kept it to myself. All I knew at the time was that I was nowhere near happy, and that's the most difficult part when those clouds roll in—knowing something is "off" but not understanding what it is exactly, or why its happening, which, in turn, makes it impossible to explain to anyone else what's wrong. It's a feeling of being trapped in a dark, hazy room with no glowing EXIT sign in sight. The sad thing is that I still find it difficult to understand and express to this day. You can try to articulate the mood and flesh out what it is, but its never fully accurate. Just know this I'm not me when I'm depressed. I'm somebody else.
Before I dive in, let me preface this by saying I am not a specialist in mental health, nor am I trying to be. This subject matter is still largely unknown to me, and I'm learning new things about it every day. But what I do know is my own experiences with it. If nothing else, I am an expertin
It's all so bizarre. I can't pinpoint the exact day or time during college when depression first took hold of me, but the deadened feeling disturbed me. It was as if the person I saw in the mirror had become unrecognizable, seemingly overnight. Who am I? How did I get here? Why does nothing interest me anymore? Nothingexcite newfound awareness, and in addition to the other strong emotions I was feeling, I became deathly scared. Suddenly, my future terrified me more than ever before.
What's more, my grades were slipping. I had no inclination to be social. I wassilently crying myself to sleep for no particular reason. Everything appeared bleak and hazy, until it wasn't—and then I'd feel "normal" again and remember what it was like to be me. To be myself. Normal ol ' me. But within a day, week, or month, I would spiral back into the deep pits of sorrow, pulled in by a tide that would hit me hard without warning and wash me out into a deep sea, lost in its waters. It had no mercy or consideration.
One of the worst parts was going through this by myself. And the hardest thing is trying to explain the inexplicable to other people, especially when they have no personal experience with it. It couldn't be more foreign to them. This is what it's like trying to explain depression to someone who isn't depressed:
PERSON: You seem so sad.
ME: I'm not sad. It's different than that.
PERSON. How long has this been going on?
ME: I'm not sure
PERSON: When do you think you'll get over it?
ME: Oh, I wish it were that easy. Right now, it feels like never.
PERSON: Why do you feel this way?
ME: I don't know and that's the worst part.
PERSON: But you're not like this all the time.
ME: It's just there when it wants to he It goes away and comes back without warning.
PERSON: Can I help?
ME: Just be there for me ...
It's hard to do this topic justice. It really is. It's scary to talk about because most people avoid it at all costs, whether that's due to the fear of the unknown or simply because they don't want to say something inaccurate or be offensive. What I find is that most people don't understand the distinction between depression and sadness, though they're two completely different things. Sadness isn't synonymous with depression; depression is so much deeper than sadness.It's hopelessness. It's despair. It's not something that you can simply pull yourself out of, like a bad mood that will quickly pass if you distract yourself long enough. Sadness is a mood. Depression is an illness.
The word depression is thrown around daily. I hear it in far too many conversations. Sometimes it's said glibly or in a joking manner. It's not a joke, though. According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, an estimated 25 million Americans suffer from depression, with 50 percent of the estimated 34,000 suicides committed every year associated with this illness. Think about those statistics next time you feel yourself about to say to a friend, "Ugh, I'm like so depressed today." Really think about how powerful that word is, and the history behind it, before using it so lightly.
As a person who has gone under the radar living with depression for years now, many scary questions remain unanswered for me. Will Iover feel fully normal again? Will I ever be "cured" of this? Will it just be gone one day, and I'll never have to worry about it returning ever again? When I'm going through it, I think about these questions constantly.
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That's the thing that few understand about depression: It grips you the point where you don't feel, can't think, and aren't motivated.
Before I dive in, let me preface this by saying I am not a specialist in mental health, nor am I trying to be. This subject matter is still largely unknown to me, and I'm learning new things about it every day. But what I do know is my own experiences with it. If nothing else, I am an expert
It's all so bizarre. I can't pinpoint the exact day or time during college when depression first took hold of me, but the deadened feeling disturbed me. It was as if the person I saw in the mirror had become unrecognizable, seemingly overnight. Who am I? How did I get here? Why does nothing interest me anymore? Nothing
What's more, my grades were slipping. I had no inclination to be social. I was
One of the worst parts was going through this by myself. And the hardest thing is trying to explain the inexplicable to other people, especially when they have no personal experience with it. It couldn't be more foreign to them. This is what it's like trying to explain depression to someone who isn't depressed:
PERSON: You seem so sad.
ME: I'm not sad. It's different than that.
PERSON. How long has this been going on?
ME: I'm not sure
PERSON: When do you think you'll get over it?
ME: Oh, I wish it were that easy. Right now, it feels like never.
PERSON: Why do you feel this way?
ME: I don't know and that's the worst part.
PERSON: But you're not like this all the time.
ME: It's just there when it wants to he It goes away and comes back without warning.
PERSON: Can I help?
ME: Just be there for me
It's hard to do this topic justice. It really is. It's scary to talk about because most people avoid it at all costs, whether that's due to the fear of the unknown or simply because they don't want to say something inaccurate or be offensive. What I find is that most people don't understand the distinction between depression and sadness, though they're two completely different things. Sadness isn't synonymous with depression; depression is so much deeper than sadness.
The word depression is thrown around daily. I hear it in far too many conversations. Sometimes it's said glibly or in a joking manner. It's not a joke, though. According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, an estimated 25 million Americans suffer from depression, with 50 percent of the estimated 34,000 suicides committed every year associated with this illness. Think about those statistics next time you feel yourself about to say to a friend, "Ugh, I'm like so depressed today." Really think about how powerful that word is, and the history behind it, before using it so lightly.
As a person who has gone under the radar living with depression for years now, many scary questions remain unanswered for me. Will I
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That's the thing that few understand about depression: It grips you the point where you don't feel, can't think, and aren't motivated.
