Major Depression Disorder by Anna Grace Tadlock

Hi my name is Anna Grace Tadlock, and I have major depression disorder. I am 17 years old and my life is going good now. I found out I had major depression disorder when I was four years old. My mom walked out on me when I was two years old and my real dad began abusing me mentally and physically since then. I haven’t had the best of childhood, but I make the best of it now. I am still struggling with my past today. If I see something that reminds me of the things that happened to me, I have flashbacks, so bad to the point where I play it back in my head. I feel so worthless at points my life feels fake, and I believe it’s a fantasy that’s soon going to end. I feel as if my whole life is just a dream it’s never going to end, as if my entire life is a lie, nothing really happened. As I look in the mirror, I realize this is real, this isn’t my imagination.

The way he hit me, the way he touched me, and the way he spoke to me, changed me instantly. I wasn’t an innocent quiet girl just trying to keep hidden, I was trying to survive the terror and hurt I was going through, I knew if I talked I wouldn’t of have been safe any longer. Even though, all this happened the biggest depression that I went through was losing my siblings. I tried my best to keep them safe, but it looks like I have failed them. I always wondered, what it would of been like if I was never born, or if I was born to a different family. The challenge that I took leaving them was hard, I still cry at night when no one is watching, or I think about the good times we had, it makes me more mad at myself than I am at my real parents. It’s a struggle not harming myself everyday, living with this burden on my shoulder is hard itself. I don’t know whether to forgive them and try to let it go, or confront them about the pain they put me through. Sometimes I think, I believe it’s more of my fault than it’s there’s. When I hear someone talk about my past, I think of hurting myself, like there blaming it on me for what I went through. Just hearing about what they did sends chills down my spine, like i’ve been shot but really haven’t.

Everyone says I need to talk to a counselor, but I feel like talking about it just makes it worse than it already is. Now i’m in a home where they tell me they love me but know one can truly love me unless I love myself, and I can’t honestly say I don’t love myself because my life isn’t where I want it to be. I question God even though I know I shouldn’t, but the questions I ask is serious, like why did I go through this, how come I don’t see other families go through it. I guess the real question is WHY ME? Why can’t anyone answer that question, no one has a suggestion on the situation. When I hear someone yell at someone it reminds me of the yelling that went down in my home, how I used to run to other peoples house begging them to help me. The cops couldn’t even save me, I was alone, no one to call for a shoulder to lean on. I needed help at the hardest time and not a soul to come. When I finally had the courage to tell, no one believed me. Not a soul to lend a hand to pick me up. Depression is not a phase, it’s a disease. It’s like screaming when nobody hears. It’s to be falling apart, without anyone noticing. Depression is a serious disease, over 5,000 teens, ages 15-24 kill themselves every year over major depression.

The more we suffer today is worse than the 1960’s it’s more pain not spoken out like its supposed to be. Depression is living in a body that fights to survive, with a mind that tries to die. Depression is like drowning, except you can see everyone around you breathing. It feels like everyone is moving on with their lives while I am stuck here, in this hole that I can’t climb out of. When you see my scars, don’t tell me to stop hurting. Don’t tell me it is stupid because you do not know what I am going through. No one will ever understand the pain that I feel everyday of my life. Every thought is a battle, every breath is a war, and I don’t think i’m winning anymore. Everyday it gets harder. Everyday its like a nightmare progressing on. Everyday is another prayer echoing through my bones asking god to take me now. Everyday I hurt more. Everyday it gets more unpredictable. Everyday I feel inside like I’m dying more and more. Everyday as I laying in bed, i’m wondering when’s the day god was going to take me home. I’ve never felt so much pain that it has caused me these past years. I think god for being on earth and for letting me to continue to tell my story. THE END.

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