To those who say they hate their parents, or are annoyed by them
This post has been approved by Kram to post within guidelines of the rules on MCM.
Read the warnings before responding or reading the rest of this thread.
WARNING: The content in this thread is viewer discretion advised.
Please, read the warnings before continuing. I understand the ramification's of posting this, along with the risk that I am taking to open up to this community in particular, but I want my message to be heard. I have thought long and hard about posting this. You may disagree, but that's okay.
Because of the nature of this thread, it has been hidden behind a spoiler to confirm you wish to read this thread.
It is not recommended for those with insensitive tendencies, hypersensitive personalities, an inability to say anything constructive, or those who have something against depression to participate in this thread. Some things in this thread will contain graphic imagery, explaining depression in detail. Some of the things in this thread may be suggestive of suicidal thoughts, ideas, or planning suicide.
You have been warned.
This post serves as an awareness to depression, the effects of depression, and a means of reaching out to those who may be in a similar situation.
NOTE: Just to be clear, this post is not for attention, Some people may have posted similar threads, in an attempt to get attention, in an attempt to sound cool, or to generally be edgy. To be abundantly clear, professional medical help has already been sought out and I am in the process of starting the recovery process.
A very good quote, from the man himself: Raymond Red Reddington
"There is nothing that can take the pain away. But eventually, you will find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares. And every day when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think about. Until one day, it will be the second thing."
This post has been approved by Kram to post within guidelines of the rules on MCM.
Read the warnings before responding or reading the rest of this thread.
WARNING: The content in this thread is viewer discretion advised.
Please, read the warnings before continuing. I understand the ramification's of posting this, along with the risk that I am taking to open up to this community in particular, but I want my message to be heard. I have thought long and hard about posting this. You may disagree, but that's okay.
Because of the nature of this thread, it has been hidden behind a spoiler to confirm you wish to read this thread.
It is not recommended for those with insensitive tendencies, hypersensitive personalities, an inability to say anything constructive, or those who have something against depression to participate in this thread. Some things in this thread will contain graphic imagery, explaining depression in detail. Some of the things in this thread may be suggestive of suicidal thoughts, ideas, or planning suicide.
You have been warned.
This post serves as an awareness to depression, the effects of depression, and a means of reaching out to those who may be in a similar situation.
NOTE: Just to be clear, this post is not for attention, Some people may have posted similar threads, in an attempt to get attention, in an attempt to sound cool, or to generally be edgy. To be abundantly clear, professional medical help has already been sought out and I am in the process of starting the recovery process.
A very good quote, from the man himself: Raymond Red Reddington
"There is nothing that can take the pain away. But eventually, you will find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares. And every day when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think about. Until one day, it will be the second thing."
Recently, my life has been...very...difficult, to say the least. In March of 2018, I lost my mother. This was a devastating blow to my mental health. Prior to this, I already suffered from depression, although undiagnosed, I never spoke up about it because I had this mentality that being depressed made you weak; made you less of a man, and you'd be seen as a clinically insane individual who is too sensitive to the world. This is definitely not the case.
Because of that, I always had this fucked up mentality when talking with those who had suffered with depression, even though I knew myself first hand out this can be, how hard it can truly be, I always projected myself and this manifested as hatred and anger. I wanted to feel something, and the best thing I could do, without being self-deprecating hatred for myself, this was projected to others. At the time, it made me feel better about myself by treating them as if they were stupid. It was nothing more than a way for me to express deep emotional issues to others.
However, recently, in July of this year, I lost my dad to lung cancer. This has been devastating, catastrophic, unfathomable loss. My mom died of Breast Cancer 2 years ago, and a lot of these events that preceded the death of the both of them were extremely emotionally traumatizing. I was never one to really think that things like this would haunt you. I always thought to myself that it was just life, and these sort of things happen. My mom and dad would not have wanted us to be upset about their passing, and wanted us to go on with life. When I lost my mom, I thought to myself, you know, at least I have my dad. I can still continue with my life. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be that bad. I was clinging onto something that was inevitably set up to fail.
People seem to forget that watching someone that you held close in your heart, namely your parents, slowly die, watching the life being taken out of them by a disease, watching the medical declination, weight loss, lifeless shell of their former self they become when the time comes that their illness is terminal, is not only traumatizing, but it is life changing. There are people I hate. There are people I despise, but if I'm being honest, nothing pales in comparison to what kind of emotional pain this causes on someone. I would never wish for someone to go through this type of emotional distress.
I initially left the minecraft community back in 2018 because my mom had passed, and I decided that I was going to choose my success over my mom. Pebble was beginning to be successful, and even through the last hospital stay that was with her, I remained on my computer. I was oblivious to the situation and the actual depth of the situation. It was only the last night that she was in the hospital, did the doctors come in, and then tell her there was nothing that could be done. She was in kidney failure, and things would get worse from here on out. I was in shock. I did not know what to do. The doctors asked if I had any questions. I responded saying no. I didn’t fully grasp the situation at the time. I was 17. I never really got to say goodbye to her. I don't really know how I feel about this. You know, some people disagree with the decision to not say goodbye. I personally feel these sorts of things go unspoken. I love my mom and dad, they knew this.
When I left the minecraft scene, my intentions were to grow my career beyond minecraft, which ultimately, I was able to do. I've been able to accomplish a lot. From being able to work at Lowes Hardware as an IT Analyst, to getting a potential position as a infrastructure engineer at a local federal credit union, a lot of things I've accomplished, people take years to accomplish. People work for degrees to get where I'm at.
However, none of this makes me happy. You know, I ask myself, what's the point? You know, I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. I have nothing to live for anymore, so why should I try to build my career anymore? It's selfish. I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m such a lucky person to be able to have these kinds of opportunities. But, I put it on hold. I love my dad too much to let any amount of money get in between us.
I worked at Lowes for a month before my dad progressively got worse. I asked for the weekends off, and they didn't allow this. I had to leave, with reasons justified to take care of my dad. He needed my help.
Through this time, in February of this year, he called me at 3AM. I was playing league of legends at the time. I knew the moment he called, that things weren't going to be good. We lived together, but he would call me since his mobility was limited. He said he had to go to the emergency room because he was having severe abdominal pains.I called 911, and they came to pick him up in the ambulance. He was hurled over, in excruciating pain. I was completely helpless, but I did what was right and I got him the help he needed. Bare in mind, at the time, he was diagnosed with COPD and Stage 4 Lung Cancer. The night grew more and more uncertain, with the inability to actually diagnose what was going on. My nerves were on edge. I was stressed out and worried. I didn’t know what to do. I had to make these decisions on his behalf because he was unable to do so. Some of these decisions would be life-changing. Nobody really understands the feeling of when you get asked by an ICU doctor, if your father were to die, would you want to put him on life support. I knew what my dad wanted...and I could not be selfish. If he were needed to be on life support, I gave the doctors the OK to unplug him.
He was admitted into the ICU a few hours after being seen by the emergency department rapid response team. We were told that he had a bowel obstruction, likely caused by the cancer spreading. As a result, he would be going under emergency surgery to remove the 6" of his intestines. No big deal, right? I mean, sure, it's a big surgery, but he should recover. No. It wasn't this simple. This would prove to be a pivotal point in his health care.
He was an 80 year old man, with severe COPD and stage 4 lung cancer. The chances of survival were slim. None of the doctors expected my dad to make it. Because the situation was life threatening, the decision between life and death wasn't so much as making him survive, as much as it was optimizing his slim chances of survival. He had to be put under, went on a ventilator. This is a very critical moment because someone in his condition with preexisting health depositions, it was likely he would never come off of the ventilator. He was in the ICU on a ventilator for several days. Seeing my father helpless, hooked up to a ventilator, in an ICU bed - it is traumatizing. I wanted my dad to be okay. Truth be told, nobody knew if he would be okay. Time seemed to have grinded to a halt. You know, nobody understands the true feeling of this until it seems like the only thing that matters is the person in that bed. Progressively, somehow, he was able to wean himself off of the ventilator - and stayed in the hospital for an additional 10 days. You have to remember, that during these 14 days, he did not move much. He stayed in a hospital bed because of the pain, and being this inactive has its own health risks and would require physical therapy to get past. Again, for a healthy young adult, not a problem. The story is different given the situation my dad was in and his age. He recovered alright but the damage had been done, he was never the same after. His breathing got progressively worse, to the point of just sitting in a chair being short-winded. This is hard to handle because ultimately, there's nothing that I as a caretaker could do. All I could do is sit there with him and calm him down. Being a 19 year old, this is a very difficult situation to be in and as a son, I just wanted my dad to be okay, but I knew that his time was coming. Oncology went silent.
He was admitted into the ICU several times after this for severe shortness of breath. When he went to the emergency room one time - he went into respiratory arrest. His face turned blue, alarms screamed telling you that he was not breathing and we were losing him. Doctors swarmed in, and immediately time grinded down to a halt, everything was in slow motion. This experience has been otherworldly to me. I cannot describe the amount of emotions that this presents. Simply put, you do not understand. Being faced with almost certain death of your father, and being able to do absolutely nothing about it but watch. Suddenly, even though the doctors did absolutely nothing - because realistically, they couldn't. My dad was a DNR, and doing CPR on someone of his age is very risky. It likely would only cause more harm than actually resuscitate him. He recovered himself. He had no idea what happened, and wondered why so many people were in the room. Was admitted to the hospital for an additional week. Things were alright for a while after this, despite being in the hospital for a few days after this. He had chronic respiratory failure. Being the one to manage his health care, I knew that this was a serious problem. I decided to hide it from my family for now.
COVID-19 comes around in it's prime time. My dad had to go to the emergency room, and inevitably the ICU again for more breathing difficulties. I had to part ways with him, and wait for a call back from the doctors in the ICU. After a little bit, he called me in tears. He was scared because nobody was with him. This is unbelievably hard to handle. I could do nothing. COVID restrictions at the time required nobody to be in the ICU unit other than patients. He was in a hospital room, with several other people - unconscious, people who suffered severe trauma. I would be scared too. After this hospital stay, I spoke with the doctor who was taking care of him. The doctor said that the only saving grace would be to get a drain tube put in his lung. This would prove helpful, but, I couldn’t help but ask...what was the prognosis? The doctor said 2-3 months, at max. At the time, it seemed surreal. I decided, no. That cannot be. My dad has proven to the doctors that he’s something more than just an old man. He’ll make it through. It was denial. I refused to believe my dad was going to die. I knew his time was coming, but not this soon. No.
Cancer treatment was discontinued, and soon after, after one last hospital stay, the oncologist came in to say that there was nothing more they could do. Hospice was called in, and a month later, he passed. Hospice is never a fun ride.
Progressively through the times of being in hospice, his health seemingly kept level. Breathing was under control. He seemed content. I could finally take a quick breath. Suddenly; he went into a tailspin, rapidly - I gave him his medicine one night. The next night, he was extremely agitated. Extremely out of it. I wondered, why? Maybe it’s because the medicine is too high. I decided to cut all of his medicine by 75% for the next 24 hours to allow his body to metabolize the medicine already inside of him. This was not the case. You see, when people are close to the end of life, they become delusional. They have hallucinations, and they can become very agitated. This is what happened. Despite cutting back his medications, the symptoms got worse. Fast. He had a moment of clarity. He explains that he saved all of the Xanax I gave him to take, and took all of them at once with the intent to kill himself. I did not know how to react. After this, his mental state severely deteriorated and I had no choice but to keep him drugged up for his own safety and so we could take care of him effectively.
It's hard, you know...3AM thoughts, thinking about how I could have done better. What could I have done to preserve their life? Why didn't I say my goodbyes? Was that even a good idea? Maybe I was selfish with it. I didn't want to experience the emotional turmoil that would inevitably be a result of this devastating loss. Why me? Why do I have to experience this? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't I just be happy, why can't I just have a family like everyone else? What's the point in even continuing anymore. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. These are things that race through your mind, constantly bugging you, intrusively becoming a part of your thought process, clouding your judgement and becoming a former shell of what you used to be. Losing pleasure in the things that you once had a passion for. Having you fake emotions, smile just for the sake of your very last remaining family, so they don't have to worry about you. Being so lost, thinking that I would be better off not waking up. Contemplating, should I take these pills, to release the pain, a getaway, somewhere far away. No. I can't. I have to be here for my sister. I can't do that to her. But, I'm suffering. Drowning in a sea of emotions, spiraling down nightly, It's selfish. No. It's emotions. I don't know. No, put them up. It'll be alright. You can’t help but ask yourself - would I be better off dead? Maybe I’d be able to catch up on my sleep then. Something, desperately, to stop the pain, stop the emotional turmoil, something to set me free - something that I can look forward to. A reason to wake up. These are just a few examples of several things that run through my mind constantly.
You have no idea how hard this is for someone to experience, especially being the one that was the primary caretaker for the entire ride. I miss him so much. Being the one to administer the medicine that would ultimately end up being an indirect cause of his death. Why? Morphine relaxes the diaphragm, to reduce shortness of breath sensations, in doing this, it can cause respiratory failure in high doses. We had no choice but to keep the Morphine pumping, at first, every 4 hours. Then, every 2. Then, every hour. Terminal agitation is harsh. You see, when someone is dying, their body changes. A lot. My dad was always happy with his life. It is incredibly painful and numbing to see someone you love in this state. Doing things against my dad's will, just because he was not in the frame of mind to actually understand what was going on around him. Talking gibberish, going mentally insane from having meds pushed so much to keep him comfortable. Being the one to make all the big, very important decisions regarding his healthcare. It’s hard.
You never really prepare for something like this. I distinctly remember driving to my parents house, so excited to tell them about the new job opportunities I have. I was halfway down the road, then the reality hit me. They were gone. I couldn't go to their house and talk to them, because they're not here. The emotional pain and turmoil associated with this is...unfathomable. I instantly broke down in tears. I had to pull over to compose myself to turn around and drive back to my apartment.
Depression is a very real, very serious mental illness. Please, if you are genuinely going through a similar situation, or if you are clinically depressed, please - seek help. It can be hard. I had to swallow a lot of pride to finally accept that I needed help. Not only pride, but I had to come to terms that I was endangering myself. I'm not going into detail about that because this isn't what this post is about. Don't let it consume you.
Because of that, I always had this fucked up mentality when talking with those who had suffered with depression, even though I knew myself first hand out this can be, how hard it can truly be, I always projected myself and this manifested as hatred and anger. I wanted to feel something, and the best thing I could do, without being self-deprecating hatred for myself, this was projected to others. At the time, it made me feel better about myself by treating them as if they were stupid. It was nothing more than a way for me to express deep emotional issues to others.
However, recently, in July of this year, I lost my dad to lung cancer. This has been devastating, catastrophic, unfathomable loss. My mom died of Breast Cancer 2 years ago, and a lot of these events that preceded the death of the both of them were extremely emotionally traumatizing. I was never one to really think that things like this would haunt you. I always thought to myself that it was just life, and these sort of things happen. My mom and dad would not have wanted us to be upset about their passing, and wanted us to go on with life. When I lost my mom, I thought to myself, you know, at least I have my dad. I can still continue with my life. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be that bad. I was clinging onto something that was inevitably set up to fail.
People seem to forget that watching someone that you held close in your heart, namely your parents, slowly die, watching the life being taken out of them by a disease, watching the medical declination, weight loss, lifeless shell of their former self they become when the time comes that their illness is terminal, is not only traumatizing, but it is life changing. There are people I hate. There are people I despise, but if I'm being honest, nothing pales in comparison to what kind of emotional pain this causes on someone. I would never wish for someone to go through this type of emotional distress.
I initially left the minecraft community back in 2018 because my mom had passed, and I decided that I was going to choose my success over my mom. Pebble was beginning to be successful, and even through the last hospital stay that was with her, I remained on my computer. I was oblivious to the situation and the actual depth of the situation. It was only the last night that she was in the hospital, did the doctors come in, and then tell her there was nothing that could be done. She was in kidney failure, and things would get worse from here on out. I was in shock. I did not know what to do. The doctors asked if I had any questions. I responded saying no. I didn’t fully grasp the situation at the time. I was 17. I never really got to say goodbye to her. I don't really know how I feel about this. You know, some people disagree with the decision to not say goodbye. I personally feel these sorts of things go unspoken. I love my mom and dad, they knew this.
When I left the minecraft scene, my intentions were to grow my career beyond minecraft, which ultimately, I was able to do. I've been able to accomplish a lot. From being able to work at Lowes Hardware as an IT Analyst, to getting a potential position as a infrastructure engineer at a local federal credit union, a lot of things I've accomplished, people take years to accomplish. People work for degrees to get where I'm at.
However, none of this makes me happy. You know, I ask myself, what's the point? You know, I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. I have nothing to live for anymore, so why should I try to build my career anymore? It's selfish. I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m such a lucky person to be able to have these kinds of opportunities. But, I put it on hold. I love my dad too much to let any amount of money get in between us.
I worked at Lowes for a month before my dad progressively got worse. I asked for the weekends off, and they didn't allow this. I had to leave, with reasons justified to take care of my dad. He needed my help.
Through this time, in February of this year, he called me at 3AM. I was playing league of legends at the time. I knew the moment he called, that things weren't going to be good. We lived together, but he would call me since his mobility was limited. He said he had to go to the emergency room because he was having severe abdominal pains.I called 911, and they came to pick him up in the ambulance. He was hurled over, in excruciating pain. I was completely helpless, but I did what was right and I got him the help he needed. Bare in mind, at the time, he was diagnosed with COPD and Stage 4 Lung Cancer. The night grew more and more uncertain, with the inability to actually diagnose what was going on. My nerves were on edge. I was stressed out and worried. I didn’t know what to do. I had to make these decisions on his behalf because he was unable to do so. Some of these decisions would be life-changing. Nobody really understands the feeling of when you get asked by an ICU doctor, if your father were to die, would you want to put him on life support. I knew what my dad wanted...and I could not be selfish. If he were needed to be on life support, I gave the doctors the OK to unplug him.
He was admitted into the ICU a few hours after being seen by the emergency department rapid response team. We were told that he had a bowel obstruction, likely caused by the cancer spreading. As a result, he would be going under emergency surgery to remove the 6" of his intestines. No big deal, right? I mean, sure, it's a big surgery, but he should recover. No. It wasn't this simple. This would prove to be a pivotal point in his health care.
He was an 80 year old man, with severe COPD and stage 4 lung cancer. The chances of survival were slim. None of the doctors expected my dad to make it. Because the situation was life threatening, the decision between life and death wasn't so much as making him survive, as much as it was optimizing his slim chances of survival. He had to be put under, went on a ventilator. This is a very critical moment because someone in his condition with preexisting health depositions, it was likely he would never come off of the ventilator. He was in the ICU on a ventilator for several days. Seeing my father helpless, hooked up to a ventilator, in an ICU bed - it is traumatizing. I wanted my dad to be okay. Truth be told, nobody knew if he would be okay. Time seemed to have grinded to a halt. You know, nobody understands the true feeling of this until it seems like the only thing that matters is the person in that bed. Progressively, somehow, he was able to wean himself off of the ventilator - and stayed in the hospital for an additional 10 days. You have to remember, that during these 14 days, he did not move much. He stayed in a hospital bed because of the pain, and being this inactive has its own health risks and would require physical therapy to get past. Again, for a healthy young adult, not a problem. The story is different given the situation my dad was in and his age. He recovered alright but the damage had been done, he was never the same after. His breathing got progressively worse, to the point of just sitting in a chair being short-winded. This is hard to handle because ultimately, there's nothing that I as a caretaker could do. All I could do is sit there with him and calm him down. Being a 19 year old, this is a very difficult situation to be in and as a son, I just wanted my dad to be okay, but I knew that his time was coming. Oncology went silent.
He was admitted into the ICU several times after this for severe shortness of breath. When he went to the emergency room one time - he went into respiratory arrest. His face turned blue, alarms screamed telling you that he was not breathing and we were losing him. Doctors swarmed in, and immediately time grinded down to a halt, everything was in slow motion. This experience has been otherworldly to me. I cannot describe the amount of emotions that this presents. Simply put, you do not understand. Being faced with almost certain death of your father, and being able to do absolutely nothing about it but watch. Suddenly, even though the doctors did absolutely nothing - because realistically, they couldn't. My dad was a DNR, and doing CPR on someone of his age is very risky. It likely would only cause more harm than actually resuscitate him. He recovered himself. He had no idea what happened, and wondered why so many people were in the room. Was admitted to the hospital for an additional week. Things were alright for a while after this, despite being in the hospital for a few days after this. He had chronic respiratory failure. Being the one to manage his health care, I knew that this was a serious problem. I decided to hide it from my family for now.
COVID-19 comes around in it's prime time. My dad had to go to the emergency room, and inevitably the ICU again for more breathing difficulties. I had to part ways with him, and wait for a call back from the doctors in the ICU. After a little bit, he called me in tears. He was scared because nobody was with him. This is unbelievably hard to handle. I could do nothing. COVID restrictions at the time required nobody to be in the ICU unit other than patients. He was in a hospital room, with several other people - unconscious, people who suffered severe trauma. I would be scared too. After this hospital stay, I spoke with the doctor who was taking care of him. The doctor said that the only saving grace would be to get a drain tube put in his lung. This would prove helpful, but, I couldn’t help but ask...what was the prognosis? The doctor said 2-3 months, at max. At the time, it seemed surreal. I decided, no. That cannot be. My dad has proven to the doctors that he’s something more than just an old man. He’ll make it through. It was denial. I refused to believe my dad was going to die. I knew his time was coming, but not this soon. No.
Cancer treatment was discontinued, and soon after, after one last hospital stay, the oncologist came in to say that there was nothing more they could do. Hospice was called in, and a month later, he passed. Hospice is never a fun ride.
Progressively through the times of being in hospice, his health seemingly kept level. Breathing was under control. He seemed content. I could finally take a quick breath. Suddenly; he went into a tailspin, rapidly - I gave him his medicine one night. The next night, he was extremely agitated. Extremely out of it. I wondered, why? Maybe it’s because the medicine is too high. I decided to cut all of his medicine by 75% for the next 24 hours to allow his body to metabolize the medicine already inside of him. This was not the case. You see, when people are close to the end of life, they become delusional. They have hallucinations, and they can become very agitated. This is what happened. Despite cutting back his medications, the symptoms got worse. Fast. He had a moment of clarity. He explains that he saved all of the Xanax I gave him to take, and took all of them at once with the intent to kill himself. I did not know how to react. After this, his mental state severely deteriorated and I had no choice but to keep him drugged up for his own safety and so we could take care of him effectively.
It's hard, you know...3AM thoughts, thinking about how I could have done better. What could I have done to preserve their life? Why didn't I say my goodbyes? Was that even a good idea? Maybe I was selfish with it. I didn't want to experience the emotional turmoil that would inevitably be a result of this devastating loss. Why me? Why do I have to experience this? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't I just be happy, why can't I just have a family like everyone else? What's the point in even continuing anymore. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. These are things that race through your mind, constantly bugging you, intrusively becoming a part of your thought process, clouding your judgement and becoming a former shell of what you used to be. Losing pleasure in the things that you once had a passion for. Having you fake emotions, smile just for the sake of your very last remaining family, so they don't have to worry about you. Being so lost, thinking that I would be better off not waking up. Contemplating, should I take these pills, to release the pain, a getaway, somewhere far away. No. I can't. I have to be here for my sister. I can't do that to her. But, I'm suffering. Drowning in a sea of emotions, spiraling down nightly, It's selfish. No. It's emotions. I don't know. No, put them up. It'll be alright. You can’t help but ask yourself - would I be better off dead? Maybe I’d be able to catch up on my sleep then. Something, desperately, to stop the pain, stop the emotional turmoil, something to set me free - something that I can look forward to. A reason to wake up. These are just a few examples of several things that run through my mind constantly.
You have no idea how hard this is for someone to experience, especially being the one that was the primary caretaker for the entire ride. I miss him so much. Being the one to administer the medicine that would ultimately end up being an indirect cause of his death. Why? Morphine relaxes the diaphragm, to reduce shortness of breath sensations, in doing this, it can cause respiratory failure in high doses. We had no choice but to keep the Morphine pumping, at first, every 4 hours. Then, every 2. Then, every hour. Terminal agitation is harsh. You see, when someone is dying, their body changes. A lot. My dad was always happy with his life. It is incredibly painful and numbing to see someone you love in this state. Doing things against my dad's will, just because he was not in the frame of mind to actually understand what was going on around him. Talking gibberish, going mentally insane from having meds pushed so much to keep him comfortable. Being the one to make all the big, very important decisions regarding his healthcare. It’s hard.
You never really prepare for something like this. I distinctly remember driving to my parents house, so excited to tell them about the new job opportunities I have. I was halfway down the road, then the reality hit me. They were gone. I couldn't go to their house and talk to them, because they're not here. The emotional pain and turmoil associated with this is...unfathomable. I instantly broke down in tears. I had to pull over to compose myself to turn around and drive back to my apartment.
Depression is a very real, very serious mental illness. Please, if you are genuinely going through a similar situation, or if you are clinically depressed, please - seek help. It can be hard. I had to swallow a lot of pride to finally accept that I needed help. Not only pride, but I had to come to terms that I was endangering myself. I'm not going into detail about that because this isn't what this post is about. Don't let it consume you.
Because, even though I like to keep my personal life under wraps, and I don't like sharing these sorts of things, in a way, it helps to at least speak about it to people. Being someone diagnosed with major depression, things are not easy. In a way, this is my way of coping.
I miss them a lot, every day, every night...I know that they are in a better place now, but it doesn't change how much I want them to be in my life again, and I just wish that I would not have to experience this sheer amount of pain. Nobody wants to be laying in bed, crying because you no longer have the emotional support of the most important people in your life. You are a product of your parents.
Please, for those who don't understand depression, or those who view it as funny, as a joke, or as a means to be edgy, please, stop. It is not funny when you're the one that gets thrown in that situation. We take things for granted that we didn't know we had. There's people out there who understand you. I understand more than anyone ever will.
I miss them a lot, every day, every night...I know that they are in a better place now, but it doesn't change how much I want them to be in my life again, and I just wish that I would not have to experience this sheer amount of pain. Nobody wants to be laying in bed, crying because you no longer have the emotional support of the most important people in your life. You are a product of your parents.
Please, for those who don't understand depression, or those who view it as funny, as a joke, or as a means to be edgy, please, stop. It is not funny when you're the one that gets thrown in that situation. We take things for granted that we didn't know we had. There's people out there who understand you. I understand more than anyone ever will.
I know how hard it can be to be a teenager and hate your parents. They can be very annoying. Some parents are abusive, and that is the only exception to this, but please - do not take your parents for granted. You never know when you will lose them in the future, and when you do, you'll be the one longing for them to come back and annoy you more. Love them and cherish them for everything they do for you. You will never understand what you have that some don’t, and you’ll never understand how it feels when that is taken away from you.
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Banned forever. Reason: Rules violations
