Why I start writing

Be honest to you all, this is the first time I ever write something in public.I am not sure what to expect. Maybe I just want to express how I feel right now. I have this idea to write something for a long time though. But I never did it. So many excuses, so busy at work, so many meaningless things to do. Just never started anything.

I apologize if my writing is not as good as others. After all I am not a native. But I guess If I want to share my writings with as many people as I can, this is the only way.

I trust that everyone has their own story. Special, unique, personal. I have mine too. And it is a story between him and I, between depression and us.

I wonder how many people in here, have experienced depression, at least once in their life time. I still can’t believe that someone like me, so cheerful when I was a kid, always the loving girl who brought joy to the people around me, would one day suffered in depression.

I never knew that depression could get so close to me. The first time this word really came to my mind, that I realized it’s actually something exists in this world, is when I was having a skype call with him, when he was in the hospital in Boston, when he is looking at me through the camera, with his eyes full of sadness, and told me that he had to stay in the hospital for one more month, while at first he only told me he was going back to the states for a family wedding.

I still didn’t know much about it. Because he was still the caring and loving man that I know, even we could only talk through the video calls. I could still feel it, he is the same guy that I love so much. They said they were doing some tests on him, see what kind of treatments that he should be recieved. And he would come back to me again. And he did. That one month apart was not easy, but we made it.

I was so naive to think that that was depression all about. Being sad, speak less, cry a lot (even though he never cried until the very last days). That’s what I thought. And I was wrong. So wrong that if I could go back in time, I would tell myself to read more, try to know more about it. And things would not end up like this.

I have spent the eight months blaming myself, and I still can’t out from it. This is what I feel now: guilt, emptiness. All darkness.