I suffer a mental illness called Major Depressive Disorder. No, I did not make that up. No, I did not diagnose myself with that. And no, I am not just doing this for attention.
I was diagnosed with this illness on February 2016 by a university psychiatrist. Before that, I already knew that something was wrong with me.
I’d been feeling pain and experiencing thoughts of worthlessness ever since I was little. I don’t know why. I never knew why.
After being diagnosed, I took some medication that was prescribed to me. But it didn’t last. I eventually stopped because I couldn’t back it up with therapy sessions.
I felt like my world was crumbling. I didn’t know who to talk to. I didn’t know what to think about or how to feel. I wouldn’t express my feelings to anyone, because I knew that most people still didn’t understand that type of suffering. They’d say that it’s all in the mind. That I should just stop thinking about sad things. But it’s not like that. It’s never like that.
Then she came for me. The love of my life. The one who loved me and is still loving me, even though I could never quite figure out how to love myself. She was there for me, even though she couldn’t fully understand what was happening to me. She loved me, so I fell in love with her.
But our relationship is sometimes painful, because our arguments and misunderstandings are usually because of me. Because of my stupid disorder. It was hard during the first few months of our relationship, because I’d cry every now and then without any real reason. And sometimes I would tell her that I couldn’t live anymore. That I’d given up on life.
My pessimism would make her cry. And that image of her crying causes me so much pain that it breaks me. But whenever I was upset, she’d hold me, tell me that it was okay, and tell me that she loved me. And then everything was okay again.
We’ve been through so many rough times that I almost gave up. I couldn’t stand watching her get hurt by me. I didn’t like it at all.
But after all of those storms we weathered, she’d still say that she loved me. And I’d say it back — that I loved her. It sounds a bit pathetic, but I don’t know how I’d live without her. I hate that I can’t be with her every second of every day. It’s already inked in my mind that my future will be with her.
I don’t need anything else. Just her.
She gives me more power to live every single day. The love that we have for each other makes me think of our future. And that thought is enough to keep me going.