Here's my on going story with depression:
(I apologize I'll be jumping around a good bit and being pretty personal with this...)
I'm the youngest of three and the only girl; my brothers are 12 years and 7 years older than myself.
I don't know my father and I believe that has led to many issues that I seem to have with men.
When I was six years old my oldest brother was finishing high school and I was just finishing kindergarten, then he suddenly disappeared without much warning. I was confused so much he was like my father in a way, always watching me, taking care of me then suddenly he and my mother kept fighting and fighting and he disappeared. From ages 6-9 my other brother was getting in all types of trouble threatening to kill my mother and my, doctors believed him to just be rebelling. "Oh he's just acting the way any young black man acts at this age."
So many times my mother would wake me up and sneak me out of the back door, into a friend's car to their house for the night, the longest time was a whole three days then a whole week. I was starting to believe that she didn't love me, that he was the only person in our family that mattered. He had his father my other brother knew his father, why couldn't they help, I only had her why couldn't she see that.
During that time my brother was finally labeled with having schizophrenia. It changed everything, it really did.
When I was 9 my mother met a man who was around 12 years younger than her, I didn't understand it. I didn't understand the mixed relationship. She was black and he was white. I didn't understand it but i didn't speak up. They would get married and be happy for a period of time. We moved into a house from the apartment I had known my whole life, age 2 to 10 I had lived there, it was my home, my neighborhood all being taken away from me.
Middle school would come and I was depressed, beyond depressed. I dressed like a guy, listened to Nirvana, tried to escape, called a white girl, told to act my race for once in my life, that I would never be good enough to be black as i was and never pretty enough to be the white girl that I longed to become. I smoked when I could get my hands on cigarettes, began abusing over the counter medications. I was going downhill pretty quickly, things came to a head when I was in 7'th grade. In science class we were asked to write a memoir, I wrote about how I would kill myself if my mother and step father had a child. I would no longer be the youngest, I would be ignored and forgotten. Mostly I was tired of being bullied and pushed each and every day. My mother was called, when we got home she beat me for embarrassing her for writing lies and trying to get attention as always. Then she was diagnosed with cancer of the uterus, I thought that I had caused it, wishing for her to not have anymore children. I was filled with so much guilt..so much that I tried to clean up my act. My oldest brother began coming around a bit more but to this day we don't have a very good relationship.
8'th grade came and my middle brother had finished high school, stopped taking his meds so he was asked to leave the house. One night he came to get his things. I went in the basement as soon as I heard the screaming begin between him, my mother and stepfather. Then things began breaking, I ran upstairs to find it just beating my mother as my step father pulled him off of her and threw him out of the house. We had this huge door made of mostly glass, my brother took the table and threw it through the door i was standing only three feet away, if i had been any closer... that was beyond scary, the next day I was sent to school as if nothing happened. It was all about him, my mother and my step father. I never seemed to matter.
I finished 8'th grade, my brother was still off his meds and had been arrested for hitting a woman over the head with a glass bottle, claiming she was working with 'Venom' (the character from spiderman) he was also talking about taking me with him to Florida. That was the nail in my coffin. I was sent away for 2 weeks to check out a boarding school, I came home September 6'th 2001, my flight had been bummed up from September 11, 2001. That day has haunted me each and every year, I keep wondering what would I have done for three days, no money, no phone knowing no one at age 14, what the hell could I have done, would my mother have even cared. I got my answer when i got back I was kept home until November, during that period my cousin passed away. Early November I was sent away to boarding school for a year. My mother didn't write me or call me for 2 months after I left.
I came back home during the summer of 2002, no plans were made about me and school but finally she had a new job in early 2003 and I was sent to my high school; all girl catholic. I was beyond unhappy my first few months there, my credits hadn't transferred so I was a freshman all over again. I was also wanting to die again, I told someone who I thought I could trust this, the school kicked me out until I get a mental examination... my mother was beyond angry with me...
The rest of the time was uneventful minus my acting out, taking drugs, finding my soul sister in a way, drinking, finding a quick way to make money by selling drugs at school. Then everything came crashing down.
It was the end of my sophomore year, I was 17. I came home, all of my step father's things were gone. He had left my mother, I knew it was coming. He was starting to get jealous that I was getting more attention than he. My mother had hit him a few times, he had been out of work for months and refusing to get a job. Everything came to a head after he left, our house was being foreclosed on, he had not done a thing for over a year and my mother hadn't known. We moved out on her birthday, I remember she was beyond angry that day.
We got a tiny apartment and things started getting worse. I would smoke, not do homework, not care about anything save for the few friends that I actually had. I had a friend that i had kept touch with for years online, we finally decided to meet. He came during Christmas break my Junior year then again during my spring break which also was my birthday. The day I turned 18 he asked me to marry him, i said yes. He visited again that august, I ended up going to the hotel with him and never went home. He left, I went to a friend's for a few days then her mother took me home, was shocked at what she found, boxes everywhere, trash everywhere, the things that I kept hidden from others, the fact that my mother was smoking illegal stuff. Friend's mother told me to grab some clothes and things and took me to another friend's parent's home, they were friends of my mother for over twenty years, a bit of religious nuts, she wouldn't leave me there, took me home with her. My 'fiance' sent me a bus ticket to him 1,600 miles away, I went, dropped out of school my second day on Senior year(My biggest regret) and didn't speak to my mother for 4 long months.
During that time when i wasn't speaking to her, I got married, settled into his parent's house, tried to get used to married life at age 18 when I realized it wasn't working at all. Always worrying I wasn't good enough, pretty enough why he had chosen me a black girl rather than an Italian one, someone within his own race. I was going to ask for an out; then found out that I was pregnant. That threw me into a depression that I didn't break until my daughter Mini-Me was three months old.
My pregnancy was horrible, my mother in law was making jokes; "Oh make sure you name the baby something we can pronounce" and talking on the phone referring to me as that 'Bitch Nigga', I took to staying in my room 24/7 until I finally went into labor. After my daughter was born things began getting worse. During that time I was speaking to my mother again, it seemed like she had changed a bit, she came to see me and witnessed first hand how they were treating me how they treated her while she stayed in their home. Going out to dinner and not inviting her, calling her off handed racist names. I couldn't take it. I left days after Christmas, my husband decided to come with me...he never should have come with us.. we should have gotten divorced then and there...
Now it's six years later, I've been battling depression for years now. I close off from my friends from time to time, rather being left alone to write, to wallow alone in silence. I've gotten divorced, to the point where I hate him but respect him for how we can still work together for the sake of our daughter. I've had another relationship(that started while I was still legally married) that is most likely very unhealthy..I'm convinced that I am in love with this person when they have not shown me any of the same feelings in return. Always on and off, and these fights, the depression that comes with that, wanting to die but not having the guts to do anything but just cry..
I've dealt with 4 family deaths in the past 4 years, each one more heartbreaking than the last, the very last being my grandmother, the only person from my family who I spoke too after I had left and got married, she sent me my things..gave me money.. was actually there..always had faith in me, believed that I would do something amazing...and she's just gone....
At times I randomly just cry, I feel so misunderstood by family and friends. I'm just depressed, I can hide it well enough...at least I think that I do...
I really don't know why I am writing this, exposing myself to the world at large...I have this fear that it will change people's impressions of me, the always trying to be happy quiet enough Silver, into this ball of depression..this girl who will never know her self worth.. I'm just scared of disappointing even more people..