Uncontrollable.

Depression. I hate having it sometimes. And honestly, I doubt I would have it today had I not been bullied for being "different" while growing up. I often wonder why people do it. What causes you to bully someone to the point where they feel like they don't belong anymore? To make them feel like they're never going to fit in and that they'll just have to accept that? Do the differences of someone else scare you to the point where if you pick on them, you think that they'll stop being like that? Because that isn't true. Bullies turn victims into bullies or cause their victims to become so withdrawn that their social skills suffer greatly. And I think that's why I'm such an awkward penguin today, even with my upbeat personality. It took me all of my high school years to improve myself and to make most of that awkwardness melt away. Had it not been for the people who reached out to me when I first got into high school, I would probably still be that person who doesn't talk to anyone because I know I'm weird and different, and society rejects that. I can remember how secluded I felt while growing up, and when you're young, it doesn't bother you all that much. I think I knew I was different, and knowing that made it okay some aspects. But then the teasing and whispering would start, and I guess seeing people point at me and snicker was what hurt me because it was confirming that I was right, and that I wasn't accepted because of it.

I'm not going to say my childhood was terrible. I actually had a pretty great childhood. I had neighborhood friends and classmate friends. We would always hang out and have fun together, and those were the happy times where my weirdness didn't really matter or register to the other kids. But there were still the people who liked to make it obvious that I was an outcast, and the more I grew up, the more I realized that I didn't belong. I was different and weird, and eventually it sent me into a depression. I was used to being ignored and talked about. No one every really wanted to extend a hand and say, "Hey, it's alright. Come hang out with us. You belong." I don't really think I understood what depression was at the time, but I would eat lunch alone and sit on the playground alone because I felt like no one wanted me. It wasn't really anyone's fault at my grade school though. I can't blame them all that much for why I acted the way I did. It was because I was mentally bullied at the age of five that I grew up believing I was unwanted, and ou can't expect thirteen/fourteen year-olds to understand what kind of mental state I was in at that time. They didn't grow up the same way I did. But I did feel ignored, and sometimes all I wanted was for someone to come up and tell me it was okay and that they wanted to hang out with me.

High school was the better part of my life. I figured that I would just go to my classes and be silent and not talk to anyone for four years, and then people began coming to me. It was different, and for awhile, I was slightly confused. People liked me? That was when I began to grow. That was when the awkwardness began to go away, and although I had my episodes of depression and rejection, it didn't hurt as much. Then junior year came. They had this new internet site called "Formspring" where people could go and ask questions, either directly or anonymously. When I heard of it, I thought it would be a lot of fun. I'm one of those people who loves telling others about myself and my views and thoughts. So I made an account and began talking about it on Facebook. That's when I found out that people weren't always so nice on the internet. I received messages such as:

Have you ever realized that you need to clean yourself up a bit? Try and get some style, andnd try and fix you're acne problem. You always complain about loosing weight, but that's not your biggest concern.

I kinda agree with the person two questions down. Maybe not change your style but clean yourself up. Sometimes it looks like you don't even try to look decent.

You say you don't care what people say, but you post depressing things on Facebook.About how ugly you think you are? That person may have approached it the wrong way, but they never called you ugly.And, Im bigger then you are, and I wear jeans? Dont worry

I'd like to say real quick, off topic, that the grammar in those messages is frightening. Okay. Back to the blog. 

These messages didn't really phase me at first, and there were other questions worse than this that I ended up deleting or not answering because it just wasn't worth the mental abuse, but after awhile, they really started to take a toll on me. And I think that's what started my depression up again. I guess senior year was the worst for me if I had to choose one. I did meet Shane that year, and that's probably the only really life-changing part about it. I don't mean to say that the other people I talked to (Kassie, Rena, Eddie, Dalton, Brian, Cynthia) weren't significant, because they're great people that I enjoy talking to. But I also noticed how many of my friends didn't talk to me anymore, and one of my old friends even came back and used me, which really ended up hurting later on. And I think that now, in college, depression has been coming pretty easily to me. I've lost some friends which hasn't helped my happiness out much, and what's horrible about depression is that even little things can set it off. An ignored amount of texts or messages to my friends. A change in plans that makes me feel like I'm being rejected for something or someone better. Comments that are meant to be jokes but that I end up taking to heart. Even yesterday, I felt ignored, and I guess that's what triggered the depression that I'm trying to shove away now. I hate feeling this sensitive because my feelings end up affecting the ways I'm thinking. "So and so doesn't care about me. I'm being ignored. Someone better came along. I've been replaced. They forgot about me. They're leaving me." Blah blah blah. And pretty soon, those thoughts start to weigh me down and make me believe in things about people that usually aren't even true. I begin to make assumptions and convince myself that those assumptions are true. It's something completely out of my control, and I even began thinking about blades again  last night. It wasn't the first time and I know it won't be the last, and although I know for a fact that I could never bring myself to do it, imagining myself cutting my wrists is almost a relief. I guess I mentally do it and imagine the scars there, and they're scars no one except me can see. No one can't roll up my sleeves and react like people usually do, looking alarmed or frightened about it. And I think that's what I like about thinking these things. No one knows or can see, so there's no need for alarm.

Sometimes I feel guilty for having this illness. I know there are people out there who have worse lives than I do, and sometimes I feel like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. But I have to keep in mind that mental abuse is just as serious as physical abuse or anything else that can trigger depression, such as eviction or debt or losing a job. I was treated differently growing up and I spent that time alone because that's just how I thought life worked. You grow up alone, you stay alone. And maybe that's the reason why I'm trying  to avoid a relationship with someone. I'm so used to being by myself that I'm afraid letting someone in is really going to end up damaging me in the end. I'm aware of my illness and how horrible it can make me feel, and because of that, I'm trying to avoid any kind of relationship that might end up triggering that pain I've become familiar with. 

 Depression is honestly a day-to-day battle. Some days are really great, and others just completely suck. It's something that I always have to be aware of and that I have to fight, even if it's something that I don't have a choice in feeling. It's also something that I'm choosing to fight without medication, because I think that depression med stuff really messes with the head and can even worsen thoughts, and I don't want to be like that. Sometimes I wish people would understand the state of mind I'm in when I get like this, but I understand why they can't. I guess it's just wishing someone could look at me and ask me what's wrong, even if I try to pull off a smile that I don't mean. And I wish that person would refuse to leave me until I was feeling better and would just sit and spend time with me. But you can't always receive what you want, and I guess that's just the way life is.

I'm still trying to fight this wave of sadness that's trying to wash over me right now, and it's really difficult to do because I haven't faced it in awhile. But I'm never going to give up this fight, because I know that there are better days ahead, and I want to see them happen.