Devon

Depression is real. The feeling of loneliness or not being enough are real. Both of them together produced weights. Weights that turned into thoughts of suicide….

Devon - Photo by Franklin

I don’t remember how old I was, 12, maybe 13, but I wanted to die. It started off as ‘maybe, if I could just hold my breath long enough I’ll die’. Sounds silly right? Unfortunately, those thoughts graduated into hiding behind a locked bathroom door with enough pills in my hand to do it. No one to stop me, because no one knew. Would anyone even notice or care if I was gone? As far as I was concerned, the only thing I was good for was watching my siblings and sports. I love my siblings. I think I was a great big brother to them growing up, but, there were times it felt overwhelming. I wanted to feel like I was taken care of too. Most times I felt forgotten. I had a workaholic mom who, a lot of times, demanded me to be caretaker for my younger siblings, while I also had to go to school, go to practices, try to have a social life, try to be a good friend, be a good brother, be a good son. My father wasn’t around much but that didn’t stop me from thinking he was cool. He had money, ran the streets, stayed in jail, yet I idolized him. I think what I really wanted was his attention, but felt hurt by him for going to jail. Wasn’t I, his son, a good enough reason to do good? So I was upset with my mom because she worked, mad at my dad because he was in jail. Abandonment. That’s what I felt.

I’m 28 now. It’s amazing how my childhood trauma still shows up in my life. There are things I haven’t outgrown and still face daily. I still live with depression, have abandonment issues and, on occasion, thoughts of suicide. The crazy thing is I know where they stem from, just not how to fix it all. I’d go to counseling but I don’t have the money or insurance for that. So I fight to stay happy, to stay positive. I want to find new hobbies, stay around good people and have a few people to confide in to help guide me when I don’t know what to do. I want to heal. I have to. I have two beautiful children that depend on me. I don’t want my past hurts or my current struggles to negatively impact them. They deserve the best. I deserve to be at my best in order to give them what they need physically and emotionally.

I’ll make it clear: I don’t fault my mom. She wasn’t dealt the best cards but did the best she could. I remember watching her come home from working all day and sit and cry about the stress of taking care of a family alone. She could have quit and given up, fell into drugs or simply neglected us, but she didn’t. She stayed and did the best she could. I truly love her for that. As a child, I didn’t understand, but as a man, I get it and I’m grateful for her sacrifices. As far as my dad, he’s currently getting ready to go back to jail. I’m more irritated than angry, and there is some resentment. Not for leaving me, but for my children whom he’s started a relationship with. I feel like, grow up! Enough is enough already.

What I’ve learned by living with and talking about depression is that it doesn’t care who you are. Regardless of your race, gender, economic class etc, it can creep in. Scary thing is a lot of people do it in silence. They go to school with it, work with it, laugh with it, then go home and sit in silence with it. I did for a long time and when I’m not careful, I still do. I do my best reach out and talk when life becomes to much and I have a couple few that reach out to check in with me. I hope others that live with depression don’t hide or run from it. Find someone you can talk to, cry or process with. Don’t feel like you’re alone and never be afraid to seek help.