You’ll be fine. 3 words that have haunted my existence for almost 10 years. Growing up in a large Mexican family in what some people would call the hood, depression is a sign of weakness. You show a little bit of vulnerability and all of a sudden, you’re weak. You literally feel like you can’t be true to yourself because those who are around you show no sympathy for any struggle you may be having.
Here I was, late 20’s with the world at my fingertips. I had a husband, a home, a good paying job, and a life I could be proud of so of course, I had no reason to complain. I was a matriarch for my family and because I had it all together, I was holding it down for those around me emotionally without anyone asking me if I was okay. Internally, I had never been so depressed in my life. I allowed different vices to suppress my emotions because I was too coward to face them alone. The second I would reach out to anyone I would be hit with the “you’ll be okay.” Of course God forbid I gave that excuse to half the people I emotionally put on my back that needed support I would be shunned upon. Even worse, I’d be left alone.
That is the sad reality we live in. The fact that there are an average of 121 suicides per day and we, as humans, deflect the thought of depression by comparing our struggles. Just because you were fine, doesn’t mean they will be. I contemplated suicide on a number of different occasions because I felt as if nobody would listen to the pain that had lingered in my soul, burning any sense of hope others thought I was so full of. I had given this hope of existence to so many people as my hope slowly dwindled from my finger tips. I lost myself and all I could tell myself was, “you’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t fine. I was far from fine. I developed a self hatred towards myself due to a lack of understanding. I had no idea that my past was creating such a strong void for my future, because I ignored it for so long. On the outside I was this untouchable ball of perfection and inside I had become this uncontrollable beast of unworthy love. I wanted to die, to finally prove to those around me that I had a reason to be depressed.
In November of 2015, after a family members complete disregard for my emotions, I snapped. A nervous breakdown to my boss and the most vulnerable point of my life, had led me to therapy. A move that will forever leave me grateful for the compassion my boss had for me that day, a feeling I had not felt for a long time.
Therapy saved my life. It gave me purpose at a point in time where I thought I was worthless. I was diagnosed with PTSD from a home invasion I was victim from in 2009. It took me 7+ years to realize that I had a reason to not be fine. I had finally had the strength to tell myself “I’m not okay and I need help.” Something that to this day, I still have to remind myself. I stopped being savior for all and started being a savior for myself. That backbone that tells me it’s okay to be off. It’s okay to be unhappy. It’s okay to be depressed.
Never allow your background to define your struggles. Before you compare yourself to someone who is in pain, offer compassion. An act of courage that can save a person’s life. An act I wish I could’ve lent to my good friend Louie who I lost this past October. You are not alone in your struggle of self love. It’s okay to not be okay.