How you feel about Depressed People?
- Thread starter Dog Based Gremlin
- Start date
Dog Based Gremlin
Veteran
:sadzeke:
70s movie blood
Pro
I was recently feeling completely depressed af, it came out of nowhere and was frightening and unexplainable
Turned out it was due to some reaction in these vitamin tablets I was taking, as soon as I stopped them I was back to my usual self.
If that's how depressed brehs feel all the time then I truly feel for them, I felt like there was no point to anything in life. Horrible shyt.
Turned out it was due to some reaction in these vitamin tablets I was taking, as soon as I stopped them I was back to my usual self.
If that's how depressed brehs feel all the time then I truly feel for them, I felt like there was no point to anything in life. Horrible shyt.
nikkas showing they don't know shyt about mental health.
Most people in our society don't really take the time to understand the plight of other people.
If I've learned anything over the past few years from taking care of a family member with a schizophrenia, it's that people love to tell people with mental illness to "man up" and they don't give a shyt about people like they say do. It's the same in this very thread
Lots of people out there talk and think they know better about other people's problems, but don't have the first clue about what they're talking about and what they're dealing with
Getting the blues is not the same as depression and mental illness.
Prince Mongo
Banned
Most people in the world are disingenuous a$$holes, they don't truly have the ability to empathize. But, I just chalk it up as being the human condition. A lot of people are completely evil, and never acknowledge it, because they see telling a person to "man up" and not having compassion for other people as normalcy
Turlast
Superstar
That depression shyt is very real. I see so many people disregard it and tell others to be positive, which is terrible advice. A lot of people can work towards lessening the effects of depression, though it's nothing close to being possible like a lightswitch. You have so many people out here who feel so lonely, believing no one would be willing to listen. It's pretty awful to think about. Many can't even fathom the idea of overcoming this and usually go on to end their own lives...or take the lives of others before their own.
People just need to be more understanding about things. Depression isn't something that you can just turn a blind eye to.
People just need to be more understanding about things. Depression isn't something that you can just turn a blind eye to.
Somebody bushwack this bytch
tired of hearing this dudes ignorance. You have no understanding of what the fukk that shyt is.I literally have to force myself to do shyt when I don't want to do shyt and emotionally it's worse. I literally have to fight myself and have to put a smile on my face, act like I'm fine to make people like you who have no clue about shyt comfortable. Won't even talk about my anxiety and how that shyt is. hate how people don't even get it and etc. When I'm not sleeping my day away, I'm ready to snap on somebody or whatever.
But you know I'm not going to feel sorry for myself but man... it's tough.
Last edited:
Pretty much. That's our society in a nutshell. I would say that's how most people are. If they feel someone is below them, they feel the need to just shyt on that person even more. That's what we see in this thread.
GoGetMyDamnBelt_
All Star
Firstly, let me say that my birthday was last week Wednesday and I am now 23. Anyways, after 19 years of dealing with depression I can honestly say i am out of it. At first, I didn’t know how to continue moving, having this boulder on my back for so long, I got comfortable with it so I did feel sorta lost now that I am out of that dark place.
I’ve told my story on thecoli before but I don’t mind telling it again.
My depression started at the age of 4 (yes- I actually start to remember things from that age). It started at the age of 4 with my cousin who use to molest me and my older brother who was only 5 at the time. My cousin, she was 16. She use to do some sick shyt to us and also made us try it on eachother, shyt I don’t feel the need to go into details about. Homegirl stopped once she got deported back to Haiti at the age of 18 so her molesting lasted about 2 years, up until I was 6.
My mom didn’t know.
My brother and I never talked about it. First time we did, I was 16, he 17 and he apologized but it was no fault of his own but I forgave him anyways, it looked like that was what he needed.
Molestation didn’t stop from there. I can’t count how many different men touched me from there. More than my fingers and toes, only thing I knew they had in common was that they all somehow knew my mom.
Now my mom, she was a single mother of 5 with 3 different fathers so my siblings were all half siblings. She was in a relationship with her last baby father (last 3 siblings dad) since I was 4 up until I was 14. He treated my older brother and I different because we weren’t his kids but homie was like a switch, one minute he was cool with us, taking us to the park with my younger siblings, giving us money to go to school or the corner store then the next, he switched up, beating our asses for every little problem, when we got old enough to not tolerate him putting his hands on us, he would pin my mom against us so she would beat, belittle or just straight up treat us different from my younger siblings. Then, they would switch up and make my older brother and I pin against eachother by picking favorites.
My mom was the type of woman who couldn’t operate without a man. So whoever man she was screwing, she’ll become putty in their hands and allow them to do whatever they want to us. That includes her allowing men to beat on me and my siblings or talk shyt to us and then the molesting- I took most of it so that they would steer clear from my little sisters and being that I was the eldest daughter, overdeveloped at a young age, it wasn’t hard to steer them in my direction. My mom turned a blind eye. I knew she knew what they would do but the prospect of a relationship or even marriage with these men were to great to care about what they were doing to me.
The only time I told my mom about a man touching me was when I was between the age of 8/9. This man- Paul- his touching... it was just different. More intense. He would sit in the bathroom with me while I bathed, he would kiss me on the mouth, fondle my breast and finger me on multiple occasions. I told my mom. Her response was “whenever he comes, go to your room” or “don’t wear short things around the house.” I had to be uncomfortable in my own home to- what- become unattractive to a grown ass man that was seeing a woman in a child? My hatred from my mom actually sprouted from that.
My depression became worse. I would eat so damn much and cry so much. I ran away from home on many occasions and it never worked and my mom always guilt me about me leaving my little sisters behind so I felt cornered. I didn’t start contemplating suicide until I was 9. I couldn’t deal with all of this anymore. Aside from what was going on at home, in school I was being bullied something bad. I was too fat for my age, my mom never passed a comb thru my hair, most of our clothes were hand me downs, I stink- mother didn’t teach me about hygiene. And my mom was making bank, at least over $6k a month with all the government assistance she was getting, she had my older on disability for ADHD when there wasn’t anything wrong with him, she tried the same tryna get disabilty stunt on me with my depression but I refused to take any of the pills the doctors would give me, I refused to speak to any therapists, all so she won’t have any paper trail of my problems to be able to get money off of me, she was getting child support from us all, she sued Jackson South Memorial Hospital (in Miami) and her payout was given to her monthly. She didn’t work for 10 years with all this money but not a dime was spent towards me or my siblings.
Anyways, back to Paul. So I would hide out whenever he would come by but that didn’t stop him from still seeking me. After a year of just touching, he took my virginity at 9. Till this day, sometime I would think what could I have done differently but really... nothing. It wasn’t me with the problem- it was Paul.
GoGetMyDamnBelt_
All Star
CONTINUED....
Paul stopped coming around after that because I found his wife contact information and I called her and told her what he has been doing to me and also threw in his and my mom’s relationship. Homie disappeared after that phone call I made.
Around that age was also the last time I saw my dad. With my mom having Section 8, every year we were moving somewhere different and my mom wouldn’t tell him where we were so my dad couldn’t keep up with me. I hated her even more after learning that. She made me not say anything to my dad about Paul, she threatened to do shyt to my siblings so like a fukking puppet- I didn’t say anything. I regret it soooooooo bad that I didn’t.
When I was 12, her baby daddy touched me. Now that threw me for a loop. This man practically raised me since I was 4 only to do that? I told my mom. I knew the difference between molesting and rape and what he did was molest. She kicked me out that same day and sent me to live with my grandmother.
My dad died when I was 13. Found out thru child support papers about 8 months after his death. He was 32 and died of a massive heart attack.
The only thing that always managed to get me out of my depression was knowing one day I will be old enough to find my dad and be with him. Funny thing, he tried kidnapping me when I was 5 and run off to Atlanta. My mom caught on and he got arrested. Maybe that’s why I’m so stubborn about not wanting to move back to Miami. Atlanta is home to me, I don’t want to ever leave.
13 was the first time I tried committing suicide. I used a box cutter. I was in the hospital for about a week, they had to stitch me up and then pushed to the psychic ward for about a month. Worst experience ever. That experience alone, I thought it kicked the thought of suicide out of me but it didn’t.
My mom took me back from my grandmother when I was 14 because she didn’t wanna pay my grandma child support and she moved us all to Orlando. I felt so trapped when we moved up there. I didn’t know anyone to run to, even if I wanted to talk, I didn’t know anyone I could talk to. I believe my depression took a spike from that. I begged my mom to let me move back to Miami. My best friend and her mom was willing to take me in. Her response was “only way you’re leaving my house is if you graduate.” That motivated me to finish high school at 16, got my diploma & started college at 17 & so I left. My plan was to start college early so I can graduate early, get a good job, buy a house and fight my mother in court for my younger siblings. Safe to say, that didn’t go as planned.
I met my soon to be ex-husband at 18. Married him a month before I turned 19. In hindsight, I should of focused on getting rid of my depression before getting married. I didn’t think marriage would of took a big toll on me emotionally.
Emotionally- he drained me. I tried to do everything to please him and I didn’t have a problem with it. Pleasing him pleased me. He hated weave, he hated acrylic nails- I wore less of it. shyt, I got my nails done at least twice a year. I didn’t see those as a big sacrifice. He liked I had tattoos but he said too much of it would of made me look unattractive- I slowed down with the tattoos. I only touched what were already there. I didn’t know how to cook, for the first year I followed his mom like a puppy as she taught me every dish so I could do at home. Some times I’d even go on YouTube to learn how to make certain Haitian dishes he would like. But even so- he was petty. He talked so nasty to me. He didn’t have an ounce of respect for me. Nothing I did pleased him. He didn’t have to ask for sex, didn’t have to ask for food. I genuinely loved catering to him.
However, my problem was instead of dealing with my depression, I sweept it under the rug. Whatever happiness I had, I planted in him and relied on him to keep me happy. I use to look at depression as just a sad spell- everyone goes thru it but my shyt was like a switch. I could of had a great ass day but then I’d just shut down and start thinking the worse. It would last days. I’d call out of work because of it and just stay in my room depressed. Hell, even eating was too much work.
I started to having anxiety attacks at 20. It was then I recognized how serious depression is. I saw that as my depression manifesting itself into a physical form now.
Paul stopped coming around after that because I found his wife contact information and I called her and told her what he has been doing to me and also threw in his and my mom’s relationship. Homie disappeared after that phone call I made.
Around that age was also the last time I saw my dad. With my mom having Section 8, every year we were moving somewhere different and my mom wouldn’t tell him where we were so my dad couldn’t keep up with me. I hated her even more after learning that. She made me not say anything to my dad about Paul, she threatened to do shyt to my siblings so like a fukking puppet- I didn’t say anything. I regret it soooooooo bad that I didn’t.
When I was 12, her baby daddy touched me. Now that threw me for a loop. This man practically raised me since I was 4 only to do that? I told my mom. I knew the difference between molesting and rape and what he did was molest. She kicked me out that same day and sent me to live with my grandmother.
My dad died when I was 13. Found out thru child support papers about 8 months after his death. He was 32 and died of a massive heart attack.
The only thing that always managed to get me out of my depression was knowing one day I will be old enough to find my dad and be with him. Funny thing, he tried kidnapping me when I was 5 and run off to Atlanta. My mom caught on and he got arrested. Maybe that’s why I’m so stubborn about not wanting to move back to Miami. Atlanta is home to me, I don’t want to ever leave.
13 was the first time I tried committing suicide. I used a box cutter. I was in the hospital for about a week, they had to stitch me up and then pushed to the psychic ward for about a month. Worst experience ever. That experience alone, I thought it kicked the thought of suicide out of me but it didn’t.
My mom took me back from my grandmother when I was 14 because she didn’t wanna pay my grandma child support and she moved us all to Orlando. I felt so trapped when we moved up there. I didn’t know anyone to run to, even if I wanted to talk, I didn’t know anyone I could talk to. I believe my depression took a spike from that. I begged my mom to let me move back to Miami. My best friend and her mom was willing to take me in. Her response was “only way you’re leaving my house is if you graduate.” That motivated me to finish high school at 16, got my diploma & started college at 17 & so I left. My plan was to start college early so I can graduate early, get a good job, buy a house and fight my mother in court for my younger siblings. Safe to say, that didn’t go as planned.
I met my soon to be ex-husband at 18. Married him a month before I turned 19. In hindsight, I should of focused on getting rid of my depression before getting married. I didn’t think marriage would of took a big toll on me emotionally.
Emotionally- he drained me. I tried to do everything to please him and I didn’t have a problem with it. Pleasing him pleased me. He hated weave, he hated acrylic nails- I wore less of it. shyt, I got my nails done at least twice a year. I didn’t see those as a big sacrifice. He liked I had tattoos but he said too much of it would of made me look unattractive- I slowed down with the tattoos. I only touched what were already there. I didn’t know how to cook, for the first year I followed his mom like a puppy as she taught me every dish so I could do at home. Some times I’d even go on YouTube to learn how to make certain Haitian dishes he would like. But even so- he was petty. He talked so nasty to me. He didn’t have an ounce of respect for me. Nothing I did pleased him. He didn’t have to ask for sex, didn’t have to ask for food. I genuinely loved catering to him.
However, my problem was instead of dealing with my depression, I sweept it under the rug. Whatever happiness I had, I planted in him and relied on him to keep me happy. I use to look at depression as just a sad spell- everyone goes thru it but my shyt was like a switch. I could of had a great ass day but then I’d just shut down and start thinking the worse. It would last days. I’d call out of work because of it and just stay in my room depressed. Hell, even eating was too much work.
I started to having anxiety attacks at 20. It was then I recognized how serious depression is. I saw that as my depression manifesting itself into a physical form now.
GoGetMyDamnBelt_
All Star
CONTINUED AGAIN......
I remember telling my husband how I know my depression is a big strain on me so I know it’s a bigger strain on our marriage. I told him I wouldn’t hold it against him if he were to leave. He said “no, I wanna be with you as you get better. I wanna know what makes you act this way or think these thoughts.” To be honest, I think I fell in love with him there lol and we were already over 2 years into the marriage. He would go with me to my therapy appointments, he would listen in to some of my stories like the thing with my cousin, older brother and I.
He would help me practice what the therapist says as far as using coping skills so every time we had a day off together we’d go bike riding, hiking, stuff that would keep us outdoors.
My therapist diagnosed me with bipolar depression. The whole on and off thing was what gave her that diagnosis- I think.
January/2016 I remember my husband and I had a huge arguement. It was a repeated argument to be honest, about my communication. That was an ongoing problem but it was hard to talk to him sometime. He was so damn judgmental. I remember when I talked to him about the rape & molesting thing in the beginning of our marriage, his response was “Granted what that man did to you was sick and I don’t see what a grown ass man can get out of a kid but sometimes I wonder why girls go crazy over rape anyways. It’s just sex.” Would you want to talk to someone like that?
Anyways, the argument just made me look at my flaw that I just couldn’t fix and that thought made me look at other things about myself that I couldn’t fix and that made me think I am forever damaged and thinking that I was wondering why I’m still here- but you get where I’m going with this? Depression now with anxiety, it makes your mind race a mile a min. I couldn’t keep up with the thoughts, I couldn’t keep up with all these feelings, I couldn’t.
I had a mental breakdown. I took all my antidepressants with some Tylenol and cough syrup and swallowed. He called the ambulance. Was hospitalized for 2 weeks.
So... that’s twice in my lifetime I tried committing suicide. Once at 13, once at 21. But I thought about it often in between, I just acted on it twice.
Coming out the hospital, I started to see things in a different light. Even with my depression, I always tried to be a good wife to my husband even when he treated me like shyt emotionally. It seemed like it would never work. I felt like I lost him. He wouldn’t want to have sex with me unless I initiated it, wouldn’t show any affection unless I initiated it. Around April, I bumped into an old classmate from high school. We always had a deep connection but never acted upon it. It was like we picked up from where we left off. He understood me, showed me what my husband refused to... I slept with him. About 3 times. The guilt started eating at me so I cut him off. It wasn’t now another thing added onto the list of things I was already depressed about. Even so, I tried harder to show my husband that I can get better and tried even harder to work on my communication. Around June/2016 we decided to try for kids. I had to go thru fertility treatment so I was going back and forth with doctors when they noticed I had scarring on my tubes. They tested me more and told me I popped up for chlamydia.
Granted I did my own thing but I made sure to stay protected. Not only that, they said I had scarring which would mean that shyt sat there for awhile. Only explainiation was my husband was doing something. Got home, argued, he moved out.
July/2016 TSA got wind of me being hospitalized- they fired me. I started to fall into debt now. I found a new job shortly after, didn’t pay as much but it wa something.
A few weeks went by and I felt like we could get past the infedelity issues. I did it, he did it, we can move on. So we reconciled... one day I went by his apartment so I can cook for him before he goes to work, there’s another woman there. Come to find out they have been fukking with eachother for the last 6 months. Homegirl looked me up on Facebook the day after I saw her at his apartment and started rapping her shyt to me. I never saw her as the problem but they way she was coming at me, it was bound to escalate.
What’s worse was not only did he sleep with her but he pillowed talked. He was telling her about my depression, that he hated going to my thereapy sessions with me, that I tried killing my self for him, my stories I confided in him, he told her. For 3 years, he had this facade, making me feel imperfect and incompatible while he’s living a double life the whole time.
I didn’t eat for days, couldn’t sleep, I vomitted every time I thought about it. I went crazy. I lashed out at him. I trashed his apartment and I tore my rotator cuff in the middle of all of that. I missed work for about a week.
When I did get back to work, I passed out. I assumed it was the lack of sleep, dehydration, etc. Doctors told me I was 6 weeks pregnant. I told him, his response “it’s your body, do what you want.” He was so nonchalant about everything, I hated him.
I aborted it.
I was 21, lost my job, depressed, didn’t finish school yet, marriage is in shambles, I didn’t want to bring a child into that. Till this day, I resent him. He would always say “you took it upon yourself to go do that so don’t blame me.” But what I blame him for is putting me in the mindframe to think that was the best thing to do because shyt wasn’t right.
I still stayed. Doctors told me to wait 6 weeks before having sex again but I only gave it 1 week. I ended up pregnant again. I told him again, we decided to move back to Miami. Before going, I found out he was still entertaining that girl. He felt like as long as he’s not sleeping with her or not seeing her, conversing is harmless. God... I hated his insensitive ass.
Moved back to Miami, it was hell for me. I became a whole different person. Breaking into his phone and emails. I discovered he had Mocospace, Tagged, Hi5, etc. It was getting into each of those accounts that I found out he was sleeping with numerous women that dated back to when we were dating. He hit up a lot of girls to let them know he was back in Miami. I had many altercations with these girls. He pillowed talk to these girls too. Smh. But he would always turn the table and make me seem crazy for even going that far to look for things when it’s him giving me things to look for each time.
I started thinking suicide again... but I couldn’t. I was pregnant. I had someone else to think of. You can’t imagine how many times I thought of harming myself like as I’m driving, I should just let go of the wheel, or maybe I should take the pills again. shyt was so tough. I was so alone and I hated myself even more that I couldn’t act on it all because I had a baby inside me..
I miscarried. I was too stressed.
I still stuck by him and gave multiple chances to get his shyt together but he never would. I left him for about 3 months. I went to Texas. The first month was hard, really hard but after that everything became smooth and bearable. Those 3 months gave me so much time to reflect on everything. My marriage, him, my mom, my past. I was able to breath again, I righted myself. I don’t know when I let go but I just knew I did. I became so humble. Everything rolled off me like butter, I was over the situation from my past, I was over my marriage, I got over him.
That is until he reached out to me and I went back. But even going back, I knew I wasn’t all in and I felt selfish because he didn’t deserve to reap the benefits that came with my peace of mind.
He tried to show me I can trust him again by keeping his phone unlocked and all that mess. I thought it to be pointless- people like him slip up when they get comfortable so I didn’t feel the need to go into his personal shyt to look for anything. It’ll come up on it own.
Sure enough, less than a month in, found out he’s back on Mocospace running his weak ass game on these girls. I didn’t get mad. I told him carryon. I dropped everything I was doing in Texas to move back with him to Atlanta so I would have to start over again, get another job, build up money again, etc. So we agreed whoever manage to get money would need to leave. We stayed with each other out of convenience at this point. He did him, I did me.
August/2017, I got into a car accident and messed up my back. Missed 3 weeks of work. I remember waking up some nights crying about my back, I would ask him to massage it and he would tell me “I’m tired/my hands hurt.” Those 3 weeks, I had to recover on my own with no help from him.
I went back to work in September. 2 weeks being back at work, he got into an accident. Me turning the other cheek, I took him to the hospital, picked up his medication, made sure he took them when we got home. When I first left him, I took everything that I bought with me that includes TVs, computers, gaming systems, etc. they were all still in storage back in Miami so the apartment was basically blank. One of my homegirls work at Walmart, I asked her to let me use her discount so I could buy a TV and other miscellaneous things since he’s gonna be home for some time. She agreed as long as I give her a ride to work that morning at 5 am. I went over her house and slept there. Woke up, took her to work, bought the TV, a printer, house phone line, some groceries, etc. Then went to my school to let my professor know I will be out for a few days so I could take care of my husband, went to his job to speak to HR and sign him up for short term disability & on my way back home, I’m setting up a doctor’s appointment so they could keep in contact with his job for the disability.
I get home, he’s up. He asks me where I was that night. I looked at him funny. Prior to this, we’ve been doing our own thing with no communication with eachother so I was confused as to why he wanted to know my whereabouts. I simply said “I was out.”
He hit me. Homeboy was going in on my ass. His reasoning for beating my ass was “I woke up in the middle of the night and you wasn’t here. What if I twisted my back and died? A fukking Tv ain’t gonna save my life.” Forgetting he didn’t give 2 shyts about me during my own recovery but every time I would say something, he’d hit me. He then started saying shyt like “you smell like sex” and “you wanted to show your ass out and be big and bad before (he’s referencing the times I lashed out when I found out about the cheating) why you not running your mouth now?” He took a hammer and smashed my phone, my printer, the house phone, I managed to save the TV- thank God. He then took a bottle of bleach and went into my closet and bleached my clothes. Every time I would try and run out the apartment he would yank me either by hair or by my clothes. After all the hitting and shyt stopped, he still wanted me to take him to the doctor’s.
We pulled up the gate entrance and I jumped out. Maintenance men saw me and assisted. They called the police. After I was examined by the EMT, I took the officer to my apartment to show her the damages. They arrested him for assault & battery, criminal damages 2nd degree and hindering a 911 phone call.
He’s out on bond now but the states are pressing charges against him and he has a stay away order from until he goes to court again for his sentencing. His sisters don’t like me for what I did, his mom is still good with me because she knows I would never intentionally want to cause harm against him, he forced me to seek outside help.
He’s back in Miami now, he tried to get me to come but I refused.
Depression is serious. It took me a good ass while to see that. 19 years of battling it and I believe I have overcome it. Sometime I would purposely think of some of these things that happened in my life to gauge whether I would fall into depression, to see if I really gotten rid of it but I would just feel a pang of sadness, snap back to my good mood and carry on about my day. I honestly believe nothing would hold me down anymore.
As for the anxiety, I actually developed a panic disorder so now, every 6 months I would have to do a EKG checkup because panic disorder can lead to stroke or even heart attacks, from what my doctor said. But I still practice my coping skills and it has done me wonders.
I have another year left before I graduate school, a year left before I pay off my car, and for the past 3 weeks I’ve been talking to this guy that I actually like but he nor I are in any kind of rush so.
I remember telling my husband how I know my depression is a big strain on me so I know it’s a bigger strain on our marriage. I told him I wouldn’t hold it against him if he were to leave. He said “no, I wanna be with you as you get better. I wanna know what makes you act this way or think these thoughts.” To be honest, I think I fell in love with him there lol and we were already over 2 years into the marriage. He would go with me to my therapy appointments, he would listen in to some of my stories like the thing with my cousin, older brother and I.
He would help me practice what the therapist says as far as using coping skills so every time we had a day off together we’d go bike riding, hiking, stuff that would keep us outdoors.
My therapist diagnosed me with bipolar depression. The whole on and off thing was what gave her that diagnosis- I think.
January/2016 I remember my husband and I had a huge arguement. It was a repeated argument to be honest, about my communication. That was an ongoing problem but it was hard to talk to him sometime. He was so damn judgmental. I remember when I talked to him about the rape & molesting thing in the beginning of our marriage, his response was “Granted what that man did to you was sick and I don’t see what a grown ass man can get out of a kid but sometimes I wonder why girls go crazy over rape anyways. It’s just sex.” Would you want to talk to someone like that?
Anyways, the argument just made me look at my flaw that I just couldn’t fix and that thought made me look at other things about myself that I couldn’t fix and that made me think I am forever damaged and thinking that I was wondering why I’m still here- but you get where I’m going with this? Depression now with anxiety, it makes your mind race a mile a min. I couldn’t keep up with the thoughts, I couldn’t keep up with all these feelings, I couldn’t.
I had a mental breakdown. I took all my antidepressants with some Tylenol and cough syrup and swallowed. He called the ambulance. Was hospitalized for 2 weeks.
So... that’s twice in my lifetime I tried committing suicide. Once at 13, once at 21. But I thought about it often in between, I just acted on it twice.
Coming out the hospital, I started to see things in a different light. Even with my depression, I always tried to be a good wife to my husband even when he treated me like shyt emotionally. It seemed like it would never work. I felt like I lost him. He wouldn’t want to have sex with me unless I initiated it, wouldn’t show any affection unless I initiated it. Around April, I bumped into an old classmate from high school. We always had a deep connection but never acted upon it. It was like we picked up from where we left off. He understood me, showed me what my husband refused to... I slept with him. About 3 times. The guilt started eating at me so I cut him off. It wasn’t now another thing added onto the list of things I was already depressed about. Even so, I tried harder to show my husband that I can get better and tried even harder to work on my communication. Around June/2016 we decided to try for kids. I had to go thru fertility treatment so I was going back and forth with doctors when they noticed I had scarring on my tubes. They tested me more and told me I popped up for chlamydia.
Granted I did my own thing but I made sure to stay protected. Not only that, they said I had scarring which would mean that shyt sat there for awhile. Only explainiation was my husband was doing something. Got home, argued, he moved out.
July/2016 TSA got wind of me being hospitalized- they fired me. I started to fall into debt now. I found a new job shortly after, didn’t pay as much but it wa something.
A few weeks went by and I felt like we could get past the infedelity issues. I did it, he did it, we can move on. So we reconciled... one day I went by his apartment so I can cook for him before he goes to work, there’s another woman there. Come to find out they have been fukking with eachother for the last 6 months. Homegirl looked me up on Facebook the day after I saw her at his apartment and started rapping her shyt to me. I never saw her as the problem but they way she was coming at me, it was bound to escalate.
What’s worse was not only did he sleep with her but he pillowed talked. He was telling her about my depression, that he hated going to my thereapy sessions with me, that I tried killing my self for him, my stories I confided in him, he told her. For 3 years, he had this facade, making me feel imperfect and incompatible while he’s living a double life the whole time.
I didn’t eat for days, couldn’t sleep, I vomitted every time I thought about it. I went crazy. I lashed out at him. I trashed his apartment and I tore my rotator cuff in the middle of all of that. I missed work for about a week.
When I did get back to work, I passed out. I assumed it was the lack of sleep, dehydration, etc. Doctors told me I was 6 weeks pregnant. I told him, his response “it’s your body, do what you want.” He was so nonchalant about everything, I hated him.
I aborted it.
I was 21, lost my job, depressed, didn’t finish school yet, marriage is in shambles, I didn’t want to bring a child into that. Till this day, I resent him. He would always say “you took it upon yourself to go do that so don’t blame me.” But what I blame him for is putting me in the mindframe to think that was the best thing to do because shyt wasn’t right.
I still stayed. Doctors told me to wait 6 weeks before having sex again but I only gave it 1 week. I ended up pregnant again. I told him again, we decided to move back to Miami. Before going, I found out he was still entertaining that girl. He felt like as long as he’s not sleeping with her or not seeing her, conversing is harmless. God... I hated his insensitive ass.
Moved back to Miami, it was hell for me. I became a whole different person. Breaking into his phone and emails. I discovered he had Mocospace, Tagged, Hi5, etc. It was getting into each of those accounts that I found out he was sleeping with numerous women that dated back to when we were dating. He hit up a lot of girls to let them know he was back in Miami. I had many altercations with these girls. He pillowed talk to these girls too. Smh. But he would always turn the table and make me seem crazy for even going that far to look for things when it’s him giving me things to look for each time.
I started thinking suicide again... but I couldn’t. I was pregnant. I had someone else to think of. You can’t imagine how many times I thought of harming myself like as I’m driving, I should just let go of the wheel, or maybe I should take the pills again. shyt was so tough. I was so alone and I hated myself even more that I couldn’t act on it all because I had a baby inside me..
I miscarried. I was too stressed.
I still stuck by him and gave multiple chances to get his shyt together but he never would. I left him for about 3 months. I went to Texas. The first month was hard, really hard but after that everything became smooth and bearable. Those 3 months gave me so much time to reflect on everything. My marriage, him, my mom, my past. I was able to breath again, I righted myself. I don’t know when I let go but I just knew I did. I became so humble. Everything rolled off me like butter, I was over the situation from my past, I was over my marriage, I got over him.
That is until he reached out to me and I went back. But even going back, I knew I wasn’t all in and I felt selfish because he didn’t deserve to reap the benefits that came with my peace of mind.
He tried to show me I can trust him again by keeping his phone unlocked and all that mess. I thought it to be pointless- people like him slip up when they get comfortable so I didn’t feel the need to go into his personal shyt to look for anything. It’ll come up on it own.
Sure enough, less than a month in, found out he’s back on Mocospace running his weak ass game on these girls. I didn’t get mad. I told him carryon. I dropped everything I was doing in Texas to move back with him to Atlanta so I would have to start over again, get another job, build up money again, etc. So we agreed whoever manage to get money would need to leave. We stayed with each other out of convenience at this point. He did him, I did me.
August/2017, I got into a car accident and messed up my back. Missed 3 weeks of work. I remember waking up some nights crying about my back, I would ask him to massage it and he would tell me “I’m tired/my hands hurt.” Those 3 weeks, I had to recover on my own with no help from him.
I went back to work in September. 2 weeks being back at work, he got into an accident. Me turning the other cheek, I took him to the hospital, picked up his medication, made sure he took them when we got home. When I first left him, I took everything that I bought with me that includes TVs, computers, gaming systems, etc. they were all still in storage back in Miami so the apartment was basically blank. One of my homegirls work at Walmart, I asked her to let me use her discount so I could buy a TV and other miscellaneous things since he’s gonna be home for some time. She agreed as long as I give her a ride to work that morning at 5 am. I went over her house and slept there. Woke up, took her to work, bought the TV, a printer, house phone line, some groceries, etc. Then went to my school to let my professor know I will be out for a few days so I could take care of my husband, went to his job to speak to HR and sign him up for short term disability & on my way back home, I’m setting up a doctor’s appointment so they could keep in contact with his job for the disability.
I get home, he’s up. He asks me where I was that night. I looked at him funny. Prior to this, we’ve been doing our own thing with no communication with eachother so I was confused as to why he wanted to know my whereabouts. I simply said “I was out.”
He hit me. Homeboy was going in on my ass. His reasoning for beating my ass was “I woke up in the middle of the night and you wasn’t here. What if I twisted my back and died? A fukking Tv ain’t gonna save my life.” Forgetting he didn’t give 2 shyts about me during my own recovery but every time I would say something, he’d hit me. He then started saying shyt like “you smell like sex” and “you wanted to show your ass out and be big and bad before (he’s referencing the times I lashed out when I found out about the cheating) why you not running your mouth now?” He took a hammer and smashed my phone, my printer, the house phone, I managed to save the TV- thank God. He then took a bottle of bleach and went into my closet and bleached my clothes. Every time I would try and run out the apartment he would yank me either by hair or by my clothes. After all the hitting and shyt stopped, he still wanted me to take him to the doctor’s.
We pulled up the gate entrance and I jumped out. Maintenance men saw me and assisted. They called the police. After I was examined by the EMT, I took the officer to my apartment to show her the damages. They arrested him for assault & battery, criminal damages 2nd degree and hindering a 911 phone call.
He’s out on bond now but the states are pressing charges against him and he has a stay away order from until he goes to court again for his sentencing. His sisters don’t like me for what I did, his mom is still good with me because she knows I would never intentionally want to cause harm against him, he forced me to seek outside help.
He’s back in Miami now, he tried to get me to come but I refused.
Depression is serious. It took me a good ass while to see that. 19 years of battling it and I believe I have overcome it. Sometime I would purposely think of some of these things that happened in my life to gauge whether I would fall into depression, to see if I really gotten rid of it but I would just feel a pang of sadness, snap back to my good mood and carry on about my day. I honestly believe nothing would hold me down anymore.
As for the anxiety, I actually developed a panic disorder so now, every 6 months I would have to do a EKG checkup because panic disorder can lead to stroke or even heart attacks, from what my doctor said. But I still practice my coping skills and it has done me wonders.
I have another year left before I graduate school, a year left before I pay off my car, and for the past 3 weeks I’ve been talking to this guy that I actually like but he nor I are in any kind of rush so.
Prince Mongo
Banned
I truly appreciate you sharing your story, you have an immeasurable amount of strength. About your mother; I've learned that most people don't ever understand the pain they cause their children. She may go to her grave never understanding why she felt men superceeded her relationship with her children, but the pain she lives with has to exist from it. At some point, I think people can become irredeemable. Allowing your child to be abused and being cold-hearted about it is past that point. Your ex-husband doesn't deserve to be alive tbh, I hope spends the rest of his life getting fukked in prison. I'm sickened that a man could have the capacity to hurt a woman like that, especially one he says he loves and almost had a child with
ndthentherewasx
El Capitan
No words, just
Tragic you had to go through that
How are you with your mom now, how are your sisters?
Take It In Blood
Banned
The thread starter, this thread and some of the responses are why mental illness is not really addressed or delt with properly at all in the black community
reading this thread and its responses is almost like watching a documentary
I occasionally listen to some podcasts based on depression and some of the speakers (white people) legit think black people don't get depressed and are shocked when they hear about it, as if we're not really human or it's something only white people like themselves struggle with.
and the threadstarter and some of the people cosigning the message in the original post are pretty much why outsiders think that way about us.
All stereotypes have some truth to them I guess
reading this thread and its responses is almost like watching a documentary
I occasionally listen to some podcasts based on depression and some of the speakers (white people) legit think black people don't get depressed and are shocked when they hear about it, as if we're not really human or it's something only white people like themselves struggle with.
and the threadstarter and some of the people cosigning the message in the original post are pretty much why outsiders think that way about us.
All stereotypes have some truth to them I guess
GoGetMyDamnBelt_
All Star
No words, just
Tragic you had to go through that
How are you with your mom now, how are your sisters?
My mom is trying to be around often like checking in on me and stuff but how I see it, you trying to be proactive in my life now when I don’t need you, why not when I actually did? She won’t admit to her part in my tragic childhood but I learned not to hate her. As a person, I just have no respect for her but that doesn’t mean I’ll go out my way to disrespect her.
I won’t go out my way to check in on her, to see how she’s doing or anything but if she calls or texts, I’ll respond.
As for my sisters, they’re teenagers now, 16/15. I doubt they remember anything. They don’t talk to me as much because they be doing their own thing, like teenagers usually do. The 16 yr old is running a 3.9 GPA & doing basketball to get a scholorship & she just started dual-enrollment, she wants to obtain her AA degree along with her high school diploma. The 15 yr old, she’s not as ambitious but I know she’s good. She had a bed-wetting problem since she was small up until now. She called me the other day to tell me she doesn’t wet the bed anymore. It’s tragic. I believe her body knows what it experienced but her mind blocked it out. I wanted to cuss my mom out for not letting her go thru therapy, instead she wants to shove pills down her mouth and claim she has a bladder disorder when we all know that’s not what it is at all.