I was depressed and was walking to the train tracks to throw myself in front of the on coming train. I was minutes away when a thunderstorm hit and a car nearby swerved and hit a fire hydrant, which caused a big scene so I went home.
In the end obviously I didn't kill myself, but here's my personal experience.
When I was in middle school, I started staying up late at night. This is because my parents closely monitored what I was doing all the time so I needed a time after they went to bed, at 12 PM, to do things (no, not anything perverted, just things I liked like Japanese or Video Games that they prohibited on week nights).
This eventually developed into a really bad form of insomnia and/or bad sleeping patterns, and to this day as I struggle with going to bed 'on time' which is 1 AM for me, because out of habit I used to stay up to 4, 5, 6 or even just not sleep at all.
The sleep problem caused me to be more lethargic, quiet, and tired all the time. This wasn't a big problem until I moved and came to a new town and high school in freshman year, where I knew no one. My boring disposition caused me to have few friends and I often wondered why I wasn't as social as I was at my old school. Being alone only made my anxiety go up even more, and I began to over think every single little interaction I ever had with people. "I hope he didn't think that was dumb what I just said" " are my clothes too stupid looking, I hope people don't think I look bad" "That guy just looked at me he must think something bad about me" etc etc and it only got worse as time went on.
I was kind of gripping onto the fact that I got good grades, because that was pretty much the only positive thing I thought about myself at the time.
I slowly started opening up and around 10th grade I got a few more friends but I was still not satisfied with my situation and still had a decent amount of anxiety. My sleep problems were even getting better too, and I like to believe I was on "the road to recovery".
This all changed when I got the "Chem Teacher from Hell" for chemistry honors. Little did I know that a simple chem H class would be, according to previous students of this teacher, harder than their college chem classes. I studied my tail off in the first month or two and still struggled, as he didn't teach any material and expected us to do intensely hard tests and homeworks. I despised his homeworks so much, their duration and difficulty and the feeling of stupidness as I looked at the paper and had no idea how to answer a single question. I ended up getting a B- on the first and second tests, putting my grades for the quarter as a B, which was my first ever. I was frustrated because I felt my studying wasn't what was wrong, but the teacher.
My unhealthy obsession with that grade made me hate the teacher and all he did. The homeworks took 2-3 hours each day, and I just hated doing them. I started procrastinating it every day, waiting until 10, 11, 12 AM to start them, which of course only made me take longer because I was more tired. This caused me to stop doing homework for other classes too because of the anxiety I had come to associate with it. My grades in second semester quickly began to slip, I was regaining my bad sleeping habits, and I became a lot more angry and less sociable again, descending into the pits of hell once again.
It all climaxed at one point, but let me tell you a side story. By coincidence, right about the time that quarter grades came out for 2nd semester (Aka right before my parents found out how I was doing), an acquaintance of mine began boasting on facebook about some illegal thing he had done. I told him frankly that it was illegal to do that, but he replied with intense hubris that he would never get caught. I knew he was right but I felt that he needed punishment for the terrible thing he had done to stop him from keeping doing it. Unfortunately I took it too far and, after a talk with his family, barely escaped getting in a lot of trouble myself. My parents were extremely disappointed in me for that episode. Then, my report cards came with 3 Fs, 2 Cs, with only A's in PE and band. As a straight A student my parents were mortified and questioned me as to what happened. I had to lie to them over and over and they yelled and questioned me and wondered what happened, but their way of 'concern' had always been a little different, like they were intensely angry at me, stressing me out and boosting my anxiety to levels beyond ever before.
With all of these things closing in on me I felt like I was holding a ticking time bomb. My school was ruined, my parents hated me, I felt terrible all the time in my health because of my sleep, and I had few friends in school.
In my school there had been, at that time, a chain of 3-5 suicides all happening within 1 year. That was when I started looking up ways to kill myself. All the other kids who had done it did it at a particular train intersection, and so I planned to do it myself. There was a 3-5 day period where that was all I could think about, and I planned it out on how it would happen in my head. That's how the fire hydrant story happened and I ended up going home.
In the end I learned that problems are never unavoidable and I was able to fix my grades (To all As... except a B in chem haha), my sleep, my relations with my parents, and I think of myself as leagues more sociable than I used to be.
However, if things had gone differently in that 3-5 day period, my lowest low ever in my life, I could not be here, and I could have just given up.
Was I depressed? I don't know - I never went to a doctor, or even told anyone about that whom I know in real life. But I think that in reflection, I matched a lot of the symptoms, and in combination with another thing I have, caused me to escalate to that point. But what I learned was that just trying to leave depressed people to 'deal with things themselves' can be self damaging and even cause them to lose their life like it almost happened to me. In my whole story, I had no one to help me. My parents were (in my eyes) against me, my school was (in my eyes) against me, or at least could not help me, and I had few friends who understood my situation.
If I look back, I probably would have refused drug medications even though I knew I was in a bad situation. I'm not the type of person who would take medications unless I am absolutely sure that they will help me and they are urgently needed to help me. And in the end, given with how I see medications mess some people up so bad, I don't regret that I never took them. However, I definitely would have jumped on the chance to be able to talk to someone, and tell them exactly what was going on in my life at that point. Maybe that would have helped me before I almost did something terribly wrong.
In the end obviously I didn't kill myself, but here's my personal experience.
When I was in middle school, I started staying up late at night. This is because my parents closely monitored what I was doing all the time so I needed a time after they went to bed, at 12 PM, to do things (no, not anything perverted, just things I liked like Japanese or Video Games that they prohibited on week nights).
This eventually developed into a really bad form of insomnia and/or bad sleeping patterns, and to this day as I struggle with going to bed 'on time' which is 1 AM for me, because out of habit I used to stay up to 4, 5, 6 or even just not sleep at all.
The sleep problem caused me to be more lethargic, quiet, and tired all the time. This wasn't a big problem until I moved and came to a new town and high school in freshman year, where I knew no one. My boring disposition caused me to have few friends and I often wondered why I wasn't as social as I was at my old school. Being alone only made my anxiety go up even more, and I began to over think every single little interaction I ever had with people. "I hope he didn't think that was dumb what I just said" " are my clothes too stupid looking, I hope people don't think I look bad" "That guy just looked at me he must think something bad about me" etc etc and it only got worse as time went on.
I was kind of gripping onto the fact that I got good grades, because that was pretty much the only positive thing I thought about myself at the time.
I slowly started opening up and around 10th grade I got a few more friends but I was still not satisfied with my situation and still had a decent amount of anxiety. My sleep problems were even getting better too, and I like to believe I was on "the road to recovery".
This all changed when I got the "Chem Teacher from Hell" for chemistry honors. Little did I know that a simple chem H class would be, according to previous students of this teacher, harder than their college chem classes. I studied my tail off in the first month or two and still struggled, as he didn't teach any material and expected us to do intensely hard tests and homeworks. I despised his homeworks so much, their duration and difficulty and the feeling of stupidness as I looked at the paper and had no idea how to answer a single question. I ended up getting a B- on the first and second tests, putting my grades for the quarter as a B, which was my first ever. I was frustrated because I felt my studying wasn't what was wrong, but the teacher.
My unhealthy obsession with that grade made me hate the teacher and all he did. The homeworks took 2-3 hours each day, and I just hated doing them. I started procrastinating it every day, waiting until 10, 11, 12 AM to start them, which of course only made me take longer because I was more tired. This caused me to stop doing homework for other classes too because of the anxiety I had come to associate with it. My grades in second semester quickly began to slip, I was regaining my bad sleeping habits, and I became a lot more angry and less sociable again, descending into the pits of hell once again.
It all climaxed at one point, but let me tell you a side story. By coincidence, right about the time that quarter grades came out for 2nd semester (Aka right before my parents found out how I was doing), an acquaintance of mine began boasting on facebook about some illegal thing he had done. I told him frankly that it was illegal to do that, but he replied with intense hubris that he would never get caught. I knew he was right but I felt that he needed punishment for the terrible thing he had done to stop him from keeping doing it. Unfortunately I took it too far and, after a talk with his family, barely escaped getting in a lot of trouble myself. My parents were extremely disappointed in me for that episode. Then, my report cards came with 3 Fs, 2 Cs, with only A's in PE and band. As a straight A student my parents were mortified and questioned me as to what happened. I had to lie to them over and over and they yelled and questioned me and wondered what happened, but their way of 'concern' had always been a little different, like they were intensely angry at me, stressing me out and boosting my anxiety to levels beyond ever before.
With all of these things closing in on me I felt like I was holding a ticking time bomb. My school was ruined, my parents hated me, I felt terrible all the time in my health because of my sleep, and I had few friends in school.
In my school there had been, at that time, a chain of 3-5 suicides all happening within 1 year. That was when I started looking up ways to kill myself. All the other kids who had done it did it at a particular train intersection, and so I planned to do it myself. There was a 3-5 day period where that was all I could think about, and I planned it out on how it would happen in my head. That's how the fire hydrant story happened and I ended up going home.
In the end I learned that problems are never unavoidable and I was able to fix my grades (To all As... except a B in chem haha), my sleep, my relations with my parents, and I think of myself as leagues more sociable than I used to be.
However, if things had gone differently in that 3-5 day period, my lowest low ever in my life, I could not be here, and I could have just given up.
Was I depressed? I don't know - I never went to a doctor, or even told anyone about that whom I know in real life. But I think that in reflection, I matched a lot of the symptoms, and in combination with another thing I have, caused me to escalate to that point. But what I learned was that just trying to leave depressed people to 'deal with things themselves' can be self damaging and even cause them to lose their life like it almost happened to me. In my whole story, I had no one to help me. My parents were (in my eyes) against me, my school was (in my eyes) against me, or at least could not help me, and I had few friends who understood my situation.
If I look back, I probably would have refused drug medications even though I knew I was in a bad situation. I'm not the type of person who would take medications unless I am absolutely sure that they will help me and they are urgently needed to help me. And in the end, given with how I see medications mess some people up so bad, I don't regret that I never took them. However, I definitely would have jumped on the chance to be able to talk to someone, and tell them exactly what was going on in my life at that point. Maybe that would have helped me before I almost did something terribly wrong.
Edited: 2011-04-23, 6:38 pm


