The truth of depression. A personal account.

It doesn’t completely fade. Do scars completely fade once the wound has healed? Or do they remain a shiny reminder of the pain and trauma suffered. Depression is more than momentary sadness. Speaking from an emotional standpoint, depression is hell. I know all about it, I still suffer from it and this is the first and last time I’ll mention it. I am a damaged being. The Initial damage done during childhood has shaped who I am as a person. I’ve been at the mercy of child molesters, beatings, ridicule and false accusations. True I did some stupid shit growing up, but I  consider them learning curves. As a man today, I’m fractured, incomplete and left emotionally scarred and crippled. I’m left wanting.

Depression isn’t curable, but it is manageable. I don’t know how I’ve manage mine. Over the course of the last year, I’ve started writing. I think it’s writing that centres me.

Growing up in a small country town, it’s hard to stay away from the people who punish you. Those who beat you, and those who burden you with shame through forced acts, of a sexual and traumatic nature. Want to know a secret? Something very few people know? I was raped when I was 8 years old. By my best friend’s 11 year old brother and his friend. I’m not shitting you. You want personal? It doesn’t get much more personal than this post. That’s only the first time I was subjected to sexual acts. There are a handful of others. Along with beatings and torture. Yes. I’m talking about kids.

Take a look to your side, look at your son, at your daughter. 8,9,10,11 year olds. Brutally beating and tormenting another child for years. Without you knowing. With the victim being too ashamed to say anything, therefore leading to the ignorance and oblivious nature of the parents. I never said anything and if asked personally, I’ll still deny anything was wrong. Come a time and a place I tell you, as in, I sit you down and tell you what’s wrong, that would be a good time to listen. I only speak if spoken to, I only share with those I love. But today is different. I want you to feel my pain. My  anguish.

To this day, I still remember the numerous assaults from at least 4 different people. Think you know someone? Think again…

Want to know another secret?

Want to know how I got a small piece of revenge back in year 4, on one of the boys? It was lunch time, we were playing football and as usual, I was getting teased and berated by my lessers. So eventually, I snap. I sit my ass down. And I wait. I’m waiting for Brad to get close enough. Waiting for him to scoop the football off the grass and be facing me. And eventually, after patiently waiting he does. The last thing he saw was the grass as I leapt forward and ran at him. He barely had his fingers to the ball when as he was about to look up, clearly startled, and then…. He was clearly unconscious as I drove my foot through his face and splattered his nose all over his faggot face. He dropped like the sack of shit he was and I felt a cold sense of pride in my heart. Fighting back 1v1 felt even better than I imagined. I’m happy to say he hung himself in the bush just south of my town when he was pressed with sexual assault charges at the age of 16? Something like that, no sympathy from me, only a bellowing laugh as I picture your legs swinging between the trees. Fucking cunt.

And that ladies and  gentlemen, is but one yet tiny factor that can lead to depression. It’s the feelings of shame and pain that alter the chemical balance in your brain. The longer you leave it bottled up, the more damage in the long run. I’m not  perfect. Writing is one of my vices to sanity. I’m not like most of you, I operate on different hardware and have my own demons to fight. My depression causes me to become emotionally involved, when shown love and acceptance. Something I’ve rarely known. People don’t know me. They know of me. An abstract idea on what makes the man tick. But without this insight, I probably just seem like a wacko. Now you know the basis of my insanity.

The blue bug is more than just sadness. It’s elated joy and passionate love entwined with insecurity and having no love for yourself. I’ve fallen in love a half a dozen times last year hahaha. Like I said, happy and sad. But not a mix of the two, either one, or the other. Intensely. I’ve met people that make my heart race like I just smoked a pipe. And it’s these same people who get under my skin, the joy I feel, the awe and adoration. It’s all real and all intense. But there’s a downside. When I’m sitting at home and I don’t hear back from someone I’m dating or seeing, then my scales flip and I start to panic. I start to over analyse and over-think things, that need not to be over-thunk. I start to question if she really likes me or if I’m tripping out.. Who could love a mess such as this? And then I hear back and the mood flips again, and I am ecstatic. And while I’m in my overly happy mood, I tend to come across a bit strong and it does intimidate some folks and for that, you should feel fucking honoured that I’m opening up to you and showing you my scars.

So ladies and gentlemen, remember. Everyone has a story, and if it’s unspoken, then it’s no doubt a tragedy and you have to earn that kind of open exposure and unwarranted pain. Believe me. Everything I’ve written is true. Can’t say that about the “medical” bit but it’s “spirit logic” and it’s not completely unfounded. I hope you enjoyed reading my short tale of woe. Depression is a beast, even when she sleeps. Don’t go poking her.

Posted from amongst the tangled interwebs…


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