My black dog!

Jun 16, 2018 · 2 min read

Around three hundred million people — myself included — suffer from something called depression. Mine, I call “The Black Dog”.

It all started about fifteen years ago, — Yeah! I’m that old, I know — Exactly in seventh grade. I felt gloomy and down all the time. As if life had worn me its fanciest black sunglasses, sunglasses I could hardly ever take off. Like I said, I had this feeling all throughout highschool. I thought my black dog would stop following me once those rough years were over, but in fact… it never did…

I sought help when I turned eighteen because of suicide thoughts and I was at the bottom. The Doctor gave me meds for the depression but I felt like my motivation faded away. I became angry because i couldn’t focus on my projects at the time. I went cold turkey on my med and start to work against my black dog.

I started to feel depressed again but I thought “depression is okay to have” so I started to work against my black dog and put all focus on my political work… so I wouldn’t see the black dog again.

Highschool for a kid with ADHD is never an easy or fun ride. For me, it’s been an awful, recurring nightmare. I’d get kids daily bullying me for it. A punch or two from here, a verbal abuse from there. You resist at first, but once the pressure reaches its fullest, you start to crack, which is exactly what had happened to me. Anger took over focus, and motivation ditched me at my hour of need. My habitude to the punches and insults swifted my side towards those bullies. And by the age of 17, Not only have I started to believe my claimed pointlessness, but I also started having suicidal thoughts!!!

It wasn’t long after that my thoughts started developing into deeds, deeds I won’t be getting deep into for personal reasons. I felt as though I was a small boat sailing away, somewhat pulled towards the North Pole by its magical icy waters. At some point, and as I got frostier, I decided it was time to take a turnround. It was time to sail back home.

There was, of course, NO WAY I’d be able to do that alone. There was NONE I could tell my parent either. Therefore, I took a shorter cut; I went to see a psychologist.

It has been — without a doubt- no easy ride either. With five years of treatment, my black dog hasn’t completely left my side, but I guess it did learn to trip away from me every now and again.

You see, the black dog may be annoying, but it is only dangerous if you feed it. That, I hope, is a lesson you might grab out of my experience. I do not advise a draining fight against it, I say drain its power sources. Seek professional help, and do not hesitate.

Stay blessed, stay safe!

A special tanks to

Salim Kai Majdi

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