Rhea
I know how it is to feel alone

For as long as I can remember, I haven’t been living, merely surviving. I can remember so many times when I have felt so horrible that I believed I had to end my life just to stop the torture and pain. I have felt angry, because no one should have to feel that way.

It wasn’t until about four years ago until finally decided that there had to be help out there. Then there was the long, difficult process of finding the right doctors, medications, and therapists. During that process I often felt that I would be this way until I die, and death sounded almost inviting. I am now 19, and on a lot of medications. They make the cycle less intense but don’t really stop it. I still live with this monster that is manic depression.

It seems that people in the world are petrified of those with mood disorders.  People who I have known for years have suddenly looked at me as if I have the plague. They run away as if I’m an alien. I’m human, just as anyone else. I just need a little help. I cannot count the number of times that I have heard, “just snap out of it,” or, “if you lie in your bed long enough you will fall asleep.” Well, that’s not true. I know, after staying wide-awake for three days. My mother was very angry when I said I needed help. She felt that I was just disobedient until my first suicide attempt.

It’s odd when I go into a manic episode. I can always feel it coming. I can always feel myself slipping into the depths of insanity, but I can do nothing to stop it. Sometimes I wake up and all my things are destroyed. I think, “Did I do that? Oh god, what else have I done?” After days and days with no sleep I wonder, “how long can a person go on like this, with this madness?” 

The other side isn’t fun either. I wake up feeling like a shadow of my former self.  I’ve felt too tired, too depressed to get up or eat for days. I cry wondering where all that energy I had two months ago went. That’s when I feel so low that I want it all to end. 

I wrote this because I know how it is to feel alone. To feel like you are standing in a room full of people screaming and no one notices or cares. I do though, I care.  I have been to my own personal hell and lived to talk about it. I’m not saying I’m cured, there is no such thing. But, after so long I have learned how to manage my illness, and I want to say that it is possible. Now I am in college and doing quite well. But I will never forget how it felt to fight my illness alone.