A Journey Through Darkness: My Struggle with Depression
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Chapter 1: The Beginning of My Struggle
In times of turmoil, when self-doubt overwhelms me, the picture I keep on my desk serves as a powerful reminder of my resilience.
During my youth, I candidly shared my ongoing battle with clinical depression, but I've never fully revealed how it all began. Diagnosed in 2013 at the age of fourteen, my symptoms had actually been developing for at least a year prior—perhaps even longer.
My parents noted that it felt as if I had aged a decade overnight; one moment I was a carefree child immersed in trading cards, and the next, I was grappling with the bleakness of existence, my voice heavy with fatigue.
Despite this, I put on a brave face, unable to comprehend why I suddenly felt disinterested in everything around me—experiencing anhedonia, a common symptom of depression—and cried for reasons I couldn’t articulate. This confusion and distress led me to maintain a façade of normalcy.
However, as I approached my diagnosis, an outrageous thought began to take root: I would run away from home. I vividly recall playing video games during that time while meticulously planning my escape. I researched how to survive on the streets, discovering countless online resources detailing what I would need, where to sleep, and how to find food.
Strangely, I was uncertain about the motivations behind my desire to leave. I only knew that I couldn't endure my pain any longer and foolishly believed that my family would not miss me. Though my parents were caring, I felt overshadowed by my brother, leading me to believe they wouldn't notice my absence.
I packed a backpack with essentials: clothes, a water bottle, a flashlight, a spare phone I had taken from my parents, some saved money, and a knife for protection against predators in the wild.
My parents later expressed their shock, admitting they had no inkling of my intentions. I had expertly masked my feelings, and looking back, I feel ashamed for putting them through such distress.
I have a dog whom I cherish deeply, and the thought of him running away without a trace fills me with dread. I can only imagine the fear my parents experienced that day.
As per my plan, I gave myself a head start. Each morning, I walked to the bus stop just down the street, visible from our house but overlooked by my parents. That day, I dressed casually and set off in the opposite direction without raising any suspicions.
Down the Rabbit Hole: A Series of Bizarre Events
I had to navigate the route to the bus stop with caution, avoiding encounters with schoolmates. A couple of times, I spotted familiar faces and had to change my course to evade them.
Eventually, I took a bus to the largest mall in the city for reasons I still can't explain. The mall's bookstore opened at eleven, and I arrived around nine, wandering aimlessly while imagining a life as a runaway. I recognized the insanity of my actions, but I was already too far gone.
Once the bookstore opened, I somehow got past security despite carrying the knife. I casually told the guard I needed it for a relative who had just moved, and remarkably, he let me through without a second thought.
I spent a good hour in the bookstore, where, in a moment of desperation, I attempted to steal a book. My logic was baffling: why was I in a bookstore in the city's busiest mall when I was supposed to be running away?
Thankfully, my suspicious behavior attracted the attention of two guards, who demanded to check my backpack. I repeated my excuse about the knife but sensed their growing doubt. After they returned my belongings, I left, only to buy a video game shortly afterward—an utterly confusing decision at that moment.
I long to understand what was going through my mind; my actions make little sense in retrospect. I recall a random teenager at the mall expressing disappointment when I revealed I had bought the first installment of a game rather than the latest one.
Afterward, I boarded a minibus to the train station, traversing the bustling underpass and boarding yet another bus. By then, it was late afternoon, and I must have eaten something, though I have no memory of it. I wandered through various neighborhoods, walking for hours without tiring.
While I wish I could provide a more coherent narrative of that day, the memories are hazy and filled with shame. I remember acquiring a map to locate a nearby forest, even though deep down, I knew I would return home that night.
As evening fell, I took a tuk-tuk to go back. I was exhausted and ready to abandon my plan. I remember sitting next to a beautiful passenger, and for those brief minutes, I was captivated, forgetting my troubles.
Upon arriving back at the bus stop, I had to walk home, which took me through a narrow alley lined with trees. In a moment of reckless despair, I smashed my forehead against one of the trunks, hoping to feel something—anything other than emotional pain.
Blood flowed as I absorbed the ridiculousness of my situation. I had escaped from school but had only created further chaos for myself an