Depression Struggles 6/16/202606:06 Jun 17 2026
Times Read: 754
For the past few days, I've been internally struggling with what to write all the more while trying to keep myself steady despite the depressive episodes. Struggling to break out of this mental and emotional rut, hoping to break free from the chains around my heart.
I sobbed these last few days quietly, and continued onwards to attempt to get myself into my positive coping mechanisms.
Trying to tell myself to have hope and to remain here for someone special and close to me...
But then there's this lingering thought that has been buzzing around inside my head, almost like a buzzing pest, whispering in my ear for me to leave. That I am not needed nor wanted. I chalked it up to my Anxious-preoccupied attachment style, plus the overthinking as usual...
I hate having to deal with these bombarding thoughts, even when I am actively seeking professional help. Frankly, I only have my therapy for help...since I have no actual support system. Haven't had a support system ever because, truthfully, in the childhood household I grew up in- mental health was pretty much a taboo.
In fact, in most Latino and black households, mental health and depression don't exist.
This is why a lot of us millennials are struggling to break generational trauma and the stigma of mental health. Some of you might not believe me, and it's fine.. But it does happen whether or not you think I'm lying.
It's an unspoken rule. You tell someone you're depressed. You're often dismissed and invalidated. If you attempt self-harm, you get ridiculed.
My first self-harm/suicide attempt...I was 10-11 years old, in elementary school, 5th grade. I don't wish to go back down that dark memory of my past childhood. I will admit that when the school called my house...and the family found out. I received no emotional support.
Instead, I was called stupid...since then, I kept shut about my internal struggles.
After that, as I got older, more things in my life began to spiral out of control.
I was severely bullied throughout my school life. Shit..even in middle school, I was a frequent victim/target of bullying by the older kids who were in special education classes. I remembered their names and faces til this very day. Two of them chased me directly into the back of the schoolyard during recess and assaulted me while a school aide stood idly by. They held me in a headlock, forced my head down...pulled my uniform shirt over my head..and began punching me in the stomach...
They received no punishment or detention. All that happened was meeting after meeting. In each incident that occurred, no teacher protected me. The school system failed me. In 8th grade, I experienced the cliche mean girl group dynamic. I was just the sacrificial pawn. The "ugly duckling" - so from then on, I had become suspicious of other girls and their motives towards me.
Fast forward- 4 years of high school hell.
Freshman year of high school, I used to eat my school lunch in the girls' bathroom..sitting in the stall, crying my eyes out and eating..to the point of getting myself sick and throwing up. I've put up with a lot of bullshit and drama from just about anyone in school until graduation. Whether it was malicious intent or ill harm back then, my teenage self STILL harbors hatred for every single one of them. Classmates who faked friendships, to the boys who made bets about me..to the girls who singled me out cause I wasn't popular or pretty.
Their relentless targeting added to the worthlessness I was already secretly suffering from. Eventually, I got to see a psychiatrist, and in each session, nothing was resolved. I was consistently asked
"So do you feel like harming yourself or others?" and each time I said no.
I was then 'dianosed' with depression and told I'd have to be on antidepressants. I declined because even I knew that kind of effect medication would have on me.
I rode that depression tsunami all the way to my late 20s. By mid 2023, I was unhinged. I sought to drink as a way of coping. No hardcore liquor, but mostly beer, especially since I was never a drinker to begin with and only had a drink or two with family during special occasions. I would walk out at night, inebriated, blocks away from home, sobbing til my eyes stung. The shame, guilt, self-worthlessness, extreme low self-esteem, loneliness, hopelessness, and even grief had hit me all at once. I hated myself. Wanted to end it all. Wanted to leave this world. I couldn't take it anymore. I was nearing the end of my 20s, and it felt as if I had the weight of the whole world on my shoulders...I couldn't bear handling everything on my own. With no help. I was suffering.
No family I could be vulnerable with, without fear of judgment.
No friends who even bothered to check in on me.
I felt lost.
I was even planning on offing myself by taking a trip to the George Washington Bridge. Taking the plunge into the cold abyss despite my fear of heights. Until someone did check on me and managed to calm me down. When I got home, I cried in the darkness and waited until morning to call for help. I never even knew the number of the crisis hotline. I just went to Google and called the facilities for outpatient treatment. I finally found one treatment center suited to the kind of assistance I needed, sent an email explaining my battle, and went in hours later. I was even placed on a high-risk list. and was properly diagnosed within a few sessions.
It's been 4 years already.
And so far, I've come a long way. I'm still trying to manage my emotions and keep myself grounded with the healthy coping mechanisms that I've come to learn. I hadn't attempted self-harm or done anything self-destructive. Since beginning my therapy four years ago, doing talk therapy and learning how to cope safely and healthily. I entered into my healing era. I learned that healing is messy and how it's okay to not be okay
I'm trying my best to heal and learn about the core wounds I never even knew I had, any childhood trauma I had, and manage this depression. It's not easy when my brain keeps overthinking, and my anxiety is yelling at me.
Which is why I took the time to write in my journal, hoping that I can self-regulate tonight
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