At a certain stage in my life, I thought I was going through depression: real clinical depression and not the mundane use of feeling blue. I remember being surrounded by many friends, I even celebrated my birthday that year three different times, with three different birthday cakes all made by different people. I remember smiling and thanking my friends for such gestures. But I also remember feeling empty inside.
I used to think I was apathetic and then just depressed.
My clothing style changed. My music taste changed. My social skills were suddenly getting rusty and I started pushing away anyone close enough to be hit by a wave of nothings. That was all I had to offer… a big bunch of nothing.
I remember trying to understand what I was going through, always in my own manner without allowing anyone else in. My mother used to think it was just a phase. And my father… well, I was not in talking terms with him at all, so I have no idea what went through his mind, but I did not seem to be interested.
I remember drinking and smoking in my bedroom hoping to get caught. I’d hope that my mother would realise it was not just a teenage phase. Somehow, I wanted her to realise I did not feel ok. But she never did. Even today, she still thinks it was just a phase. She is still incapable of understanding when I need her and I have given up trying to show her when I do. She would never understand because deep inside, she does not know me. She knows the person I want her to see. She would never be introduced to the ‘devil’. Although I must admit I do not think she would be able to tell the difference. Despite all odds, she has been in touch with the ‘devil’ but she was not able to spot the differences. Perhaps it’s actually good.
My previous post here mentioned how I realised that I was an approval seeker. I think this post clarifies any potential doubts to the underlying causes of my behaviour…
I also remember drinking every day after school. I was a sponge. I would drink pure vodka. No ice, no juice. I would mix all sorts of drinks. I even got so drunk once that my friends had to take me home… During day time… My mother saw me in such state and I still remember her reaction. She felt ashamed of my behaviour. Did she ask why I did it? Did she try and understand what could be possibly happening? No. She tried her best, but her best was not enough.
I remember writing on my white bedroom walls with a thick black permanent marker lyrics and quotes in English. My parents would not understand it, but my siblings would, whenever they visited us as they were already living abroad by then. I’d spend hours in my bedroom without locking the door and no one would even check on me. So I’d smoke. And still nothing. My grades soon started to drop. Not due to the fact that I was a dumb student at all… I simply stopped caring. I knew if I wanted to, I could have had the perfect results but I did not. And still no reaction.
I started training to go to military school. I was convinced that this would offer the perfect environment that I needed and yet, I broke my leg months before the assessments and I never looked back. I could feel myself digging a deeper and deeper whole. I was overweight, heavy drinker and often would smoke. I tried weed, I hated it. My life was going down faster than the economy. A control freak losing control…
Many years later I managed to fight it all. I’m here, I am healthier, I cannot stand smoke, I do not try to overcompensate for attention that I know simply will never fulfil the void. And I am dealing everyday with the new battles as they come. Some are harder than others but they are still battles that are worth checking.
And so I wrote this, probably poorly written… I am not editing this post. Not now anyway. If I go back and read this I will never post it. If it doesn’t make sense, then it doesn’t. If it’s not good… then it’s not good. Ah, look who is back. 🙂