Stories about depression

Tuesday, 24th May 2016 Antalia Terblanche

This is Antalia’s story;

Dear Depression,

I know it has been a while since you last popped by to see me, but I do think about
you. Everyday in fact. Every time I wake up in the morning and reach for my tablets, I
think of you. Every time I see my friends asking how I am feeling, I think of you.
Every time I go and get my next prescription from the doctors, I think of you. Why
won’t you just go away?

There was a time where we were close; where you would wake me up from my sleep
– killing my dreams and turning them into nightmares. Bad dreams. Suicidal dreams.
You poisoned my family, making them suffer. The house for years was black.
Swallowed up in complete and utter darkness. They could do nothing to save me,
but watch me crumble into my pit of darkness…but, that was where you wanted me,
wasn’t it? You wanted me to be trapped. To give in every time I eat a meal to retreat
to the toilet. You wanted me to feel alone…you made me lose my friends. They didn’t
like you. They didn’t like what you made me become. Honestly, you did a pretty good
job of making me sad…but not good enough.

Yes, it has taken time and yes it has been a struggle, but I feel you slowly slipping
away. I can eat now without thinking of regret. I can sleep now without being scared.
I can wake up everyday and not see my family’s worried looks on their faces
wondering if I am okay. I am alright. There are the occasional times where you pay
me a visit. I forget what it felt like to be close to you, how small you made me feel
and how much I did not want to be here…but I am here now, and I am here to stay.
You however, will not.

I am just writing to remind you that I will beat you. I will conquer the quest you have
set to trap me back into the shadows, but I am stronger now. My willpower to be
happy is greater and my want to live is so strong that I dare you to put me to the test!
Next time you knock on my door, when you bring me the next dark cloud to pour its
filth to dampen my happiness, you will not be welcome.

So, Depression. I hope you know now how I feel. I hope you realise that you no
longer have control over me, or others. You can laugh now and think that you have
other people to infest and minds to destroy, but we are getting stronger. You are no
longer a taboo subject in the world – you are identified as an illness. We have
doctors to prescribe us medication to help kill you off. We have councillors to help
tear us apart from you. We also have willpower. You best be scared of willpower for it
is growing greater my old friend. I suggest you take my advice and leave me and
everyone else alone. Your unhappiness and grief are not wanted! You want to fight,
good luck…because we will not let you win.

Yours sincerely, faithfully and finally free,

Antalia Terblanche

Antalia's Letter to Depression is one of the many stories about depression and the
consuming feelings people feel, dealing with the illness everyday. This short piece
will reflect on elements from this letter, such as the tablets etc. A section from a story
about their journey through their illness.

Why men need to talk

Friday, 16th July 2021 Jordan

This is Jordan’s story;

It’s not easy to be vulnerable in a society that demands men to be tough. Like many
others I opted to suffer with my difficulties in silence. We believe that by showing no
sign of weakness we are stronger.

I have been suffering from depression since 2015. After a difficult year keeping what
I had away from others, I had no choice but to reach out for help. I sought help from
my doctors and was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Following a moment of
epiphany in October 2017, the 17th to be exact, I have strived to make sure that
everything I did was for the benefit of my mental health. Despite my reluctance to do
so, being vulnerable was to be the most important part of my journey.

"It’s ironic really – the strength it takes to admit you need help. I don’t know how I
ever considered it to be a weakness!"
The diagnosis from a GP had confirmed what I already knew, nevertheless it was
needed. I told a few of the people closest to me, which was so tough. It’s ironic really
– the strength it takes to admit you need help. I don’t know how I ever considered it
to be a weakness!

Despite my moment of strength, I decided to bury my thoughts again, taking each

day as it came, hoping that eventually I might get better. What held me back was I
hadn’t taken ownership of my illness. I put so much of my recovery on external
things like having more money. Which for me didn’t work. My situation got no better
because I did not make changes to allow it to be so. That’s not to say my illness was
my fault. But I was the one who was going to have to make it better.

From this, my seven steps were born. I did some experimenting and found seven
easy things that made me feel better. Of these seven, the most important was talking
– something I needed to do more of. Although the people around me were aware of
my struggles, I very rarely spoke about them. The more I started to do this, the better
I felt. A problem shared is a problem halved. It wasn’t even necessary for the people
to have the answers, it just made me feel a lot better to get things off my chest.

The more I shared, the more people then became open with me. Especially my male
friends. It turns out more of us had been keeping things to ourselves. We were just
one group of friends, too. I thought about all the possible groups of males that did not
talk about their difficulties together. It can’t have been just us. After looking into the