My Depression by Ellie Mitchell ’19

My depression creates another person out of me.   

I feel like a puppet hanging on strings, and my depression is playing with me.

It creates another person with different personalities, someone I hate to be faced with.  

It makes me start pushing everyone close away from me.

“Sadness is a normal feeling,” they all say. But no one knows what really goes on in your mind.

 

Weekly visits with my doctor and all I can mumble out “I’m fine”.

Not a day goes by where my depression doesn’t control me.

Countless “sick” days because I could never seem to drag myself out of bed,

Teachers and staff members yelling at me for missing too much school but I can’t help it.  

Being extremely numb with sadness is an all too frequent feeling.

 

Numberless visits to the psychiatrists, psychologists, and pediatricians.

I feel like I’m crying out for help into outer space and no one is there.

Anxiety and panic attacks are a frequent feeling, and when my body starts to shake I don’t bother because I know what’s going to happen.

My mother forces me to sit down and eat because I’ve been skipping countless family dinners, crying in my bedroom.

But I don’t want to eat because anxiety eats away at my stomach.

 

Flashbacks have become a daily routine in my life.

At night it gets worse, when I sit alone in my bedroom, in the dark, I shake.

I sit alone but I can feel the overpowering monster of depression behind me.

The doctors are always trying to find the right medication for me.

But no one will find the weapon to take down the monster that controls me.

 

“Ew, I’m like totally triggered” you hear a teenage girl yell out at something irrelevant.
I want to scream at them for saying that, but I have to control myself.

They don’t know what triggers really are and how they take over your teenage years.

Taking your innocence in an unfamiliar way.

The bulk of my teenage years weren’t normal, they were breakdowns and hospital visits.

 

But I am so proud of myself because I never gave up.

When the razor was in my hands or the suicidal thoughts were at my worse, I kept living.

I have survived 6,624 days on this planet.

I have been through hell and back.
And I have felt pain like never before.
But I kept living.

That is the battle depression doesn’t want me to win.

But here I am, beating the battle.