It’s been a minute since I did a Self Art piece, but this one isn’t happy like my normal art work. It’s about me and my depression.

So, my story begins in elementary school, I was a young and happy girl who loved to draw as much as I do now. This happiness that I had broke in half though, and I started feeling a little depressed. I was a loner with only a few friends and I was bullied which made my depression worsen bit by bit. The thing that really triggered this depression was a kid telling me to kill myself. I told a teacher but no one believed me.
Then one night I was lying down in bed, looking over at a corner of the room and I saw my imaginary friend harming herself and smiling at me with an evil smile, that’s when the suicidal thoughts started. I was put in therapy to try to help with it, and it worked for a little while. I was put on medicine to help even out the imbalanced chemicals in my brain that was causing this depression of mine.
Junior high rolls around and I’ve started feeling the medicine effects wear off, but I still felt empty. I was still a loner, having only a few friends. I was scared to talk to anyone about my depression because I didn’t want to put a burden like that on anyone’s shoulders. So I stayed quiet, keeping to myself and drawing my pictures. I started having more suicidal thoughts but I was afraid to say anything. Instead of harming myself, I drew on my arms. Then 9th grade happened and I started feeling better. I became friends with amazing people and I was happy to be with them.
Although, my depression still lingered in the background, watching me like I was its prey. I stayed close to my friends, or at least tried to. I threw away my medicine which was the stupidest thing I could’ve done. This endless cycle of fear for my life kept on spinning and it felt like I was gonna fall off and end it all. But I didn’t, lord knows why or how I didn’t, but I stayed on this chaotic cycle.
High school, the place most kids fear to go because of its seemingly bad reputation. I stopped taking my medicine after a talk with my parents, and I was feeling like I could conquer this last step of my education. I took art classes, took Chinese even. I didn’t have the best grades 10th and 11th grade year, but I still tried. My depression was in a slumber for a long while, but every now and then it would awaken and attempt to crush me. It won sometimes but I fought back, however, 12th grade year it woke up after my life began to spiral downhill.
I found out we had to move, my sister, the friend I kept closest to me, ran away with her boyfriend, and my love and I drifted apart because I had feelings for another that I kept buried when I shouldn’t have. My love and I fought a few times, my stupidity being the start of all of it. I started attending a new school and made some great friends, but in the back of my mind that depression was eating at me, however, I didn’t want to take my medicine to make it fall asleep. I got good grades from all the stress and pain that kept me focusing, but it wasn’t enough to keep the depression away from me.
Then I found out my sister wasn’t taking her medicine and I broke. I started feeling down more than just once a month, I would cry for reasons and for no reasons. It hurt to feel this way, I would cry and the next day I would feel empty. I would feel like nothing would change if I were gone. Eventually this got to the point where I couldn’t take it, so I ran to my parents for help. I started taking my medicine again because the pain became too much for me to handle.

I’m not saying follow my example, I’m not even saying stop taking your medicine if you’re feeling better. What I did was stupid and I would give everything to go back and fix it, tell myself don’t stop taking those pills, because you will start feeling broken again.
This is my story. My depression isn’t going to go away, it’s going stay and be apart of me until I die. It hurts knowing this, but it’s the reality and I can’t change it.

Thank you for reading it you did.

Artwork © FrostWing6789