I Might Have Been Born Depressed.

We weren’t religious in my family- my parents believed in work as a religion, not like it made a difference. They worked from 5am till 10pm and paid debts with whatever wages they get at the end of the day. I was the only child in a home that never felt warmth. Nobody had time to laugh, certainly not in-between working jobs and eating, sleeping, and making funny noises behind closed doors. They never had time for their only child.

On my fourth birthday, my mum locked me in the house with a book to read- Sugar girl. The lock only opens whenever they get back, and I was never allowed to go out. I only ever go out on Sunday, to church where they danced for an hour and slept for the rest of the service. After each service, my parent went to see the pastor and they left with money and prayers. The money was used to buy drinks at the local bar. They never went to the same church twice.

All through Primary 1 – senior school 3, I took myself to school, clothed myself, taught myself what it meant to be human. While my parents slept and woke, totally oblivious of my existence. Some days I could have sworn that they really saw me, but those days were few and far in between.

I can’t remember when I understood depression, but I know I’ve been depressed for a long while. I sometimes feel like I was born depressed.

I once tried talking to my parents about how I felt, so I prepared a meal for them and got some drinks from the money I saved from working three jobs. I planned to ask them what living meant to them, because I never understood what it means to live, I wanted to know if it’s true there’s something called hope and when do I encounter it. I had so many questions to ask them, but they slept off while eating, heads in their plate.

Here’s what living with depression felt like for me; it felt like I was in a boat cascading down a cliff surrounded by multitudes of people, and as the boat got closer to the cliff, they watched, they heard my screams, but they kept looking, they saw my hands reach out with tears streaming down my face, but they kept looking, and never saw me. I felt alone in a world where I’m choked with people at every turn.

Hi, my name is T. I’m 18 years old. I’ve lived with depression for as long as I can remember but nobody knew. My parents didn’t know, hell, how would they have known? I started out this thing called life on the wrong foot and I’m still not sure how I’m still here.

Oh, I know! I stumbled across an article about hope and how everything has a meaning and part of our duty is to find a meaning to our own life. So that is what I have been doing.

I’m not exactly doing a great job at it if I’m being honest, but I know that I’m trying. Every single day, I’m trying and that’s all that truly matters at the end of the day.

If you’re like me, living in a vacuum, living and wondering if there’s a meaning to life and, still holding out for hope, I want to believe you’d find hope and what it means to live.

To some extent, some people have the tools to dealing with life- I met one of them and my life has been better off since then. Ask for help- those questions you need answers to will not answer themselves. But most importantly, don’t give up on yourself.

I’m doing better these days. My parents have not changed, but my outlook to life has changed and it has made all the difference. I’m on a journey and hope is the fuel powering me. I really hope you find a reason to hope.

I hope you do.