What It's Like to Explain Depression to Your Asian Parents

A word to all the patients in front of the screen: Taking medicine is really better than anything else, at least for now. First of all, I was diagnosed with moderate depression in my second year of junior high school, which was actually very liberating and joyful. Why do you say that? My dad has schizophrenia and my mom has bipolar disorder, both of which were diagnosed when I was three or four years old. Now that I think about it, I was really ignorant at the time. There was always no warning when they got sick, which also led to a very dark period in my childhood. That's how I was raised, even though they didn't want to. I love them and I hate them. I hate why my father can't take medicine well. He has to reduce the medicine every time. When he gets sick, he has to be hospitalized. He stays there for more than half a year. When I was a child, I really rejected him because my father and my mother developed bipolar disorder from depression. I rarely received my father's love since I was a child, and I am still hostile to him. Until now, he is still taking medication and getting sick and being hospitalized again and again... Almost every two years. I am about to take the high school entrance examination this year, which is about ten days away. Since I entered junior high school, I have fallen from A to D in the past few months and only returned to B in the past few months. I know the contrast better than anyone. Everyone looks at you wrongly. Friends who are obviously close to you know that you have depression. If you have a family like this, they will stop moving forward. Everyone who knows about it has left me. Of course, there are also my own reasons for being too sensitive, fragile and insecure, but is it my fault? The teacher only thought that I was pretending to be sick, and everyone was on the opposite side of me. I dislike intimate relationships, and I had a falling out with my bestie at the beginning of the year. The reason is that I am too "selfish"... I always like to immerse myself in my own world and stay in my comfort zone, and I don't want to give anything but want to get something in return from others. I admit that no one will understand this, but I can't take this step, because too many people have hurt me before, or I am self-defeating... Every day I think about when the end of the world will come. I had an argument with my mother some time ago and swallowed a pill in a fit of anger. However, due to physical reasons, there were no side effects (except being energetic for a day and not falling asleep at night). However, I don't recommend that you imitate it, because I saw on the Internet that some patients vomited and fainted after taking six pills, and were taken to have their stomachs lavaged by their family members. I felt a little regretful after eating it at the time, but I didn't expect that it wouldn't make me feel like I was surviving a disaster. It's really not bad (don't imitate, don't imitate!! Everyone's physique is different). It is possible to pass the high school, but it is definitely not possible to become a top student and go to the best high school like in the beginning. Of course, there are indeed a few people who can understand me. They will always embrace prosperity and wait for me at the end of the sun. Thank you to everyone who helps me... I also hope that everyone who can read this comment can be healthy, overcome all diseases, take good medicine, and live a good life!

I am a 13-year-old patient with severe depression and severe anxiety. My parents are not on good terms. If my dad cheats on me, my mom may not be able to accept it. During that time, I kept venting my anger on myself. Later, I felt that my mood was getting worse and worse. I started crying for no reason, didn't want to eat, would vomit, feel nauseated, and self-harm. The teacher was the first to notice that I had mental problems. She persuaded my mother to take me to the hospital. After going to the hospital, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. The hospital did not have anti-depressant drugs at that time. We went to the brain hospital. My mother called and asked my father what to do about this matter. I don't know what happened next. Anyway, I hate my father now. Later, the doctor asked me if I wanted to be hospitalized for treatment, and said that I needed family members to accompany me. My mother said no, and then I was not treated. I almost suffered from schizophrenia a month ago. I had a fight with my mother just now, and I vented all the grievances I had suffered over the years. Now the relationship is very tense. I plan to go behind her back and ask my dad for money for treatment tomorrow. I really don't want to give up on myself. I still have so many things I haven't eaten and so many novels I haven't read. Why should I be buried before them? Just plan to redeem yourself. Wish you peace

When I was in junior high school, I always wanted to hide myself, but I also longed for someone to find me and pull me out of loneliness. During the day, he always looks nonchalant and careless. In the dead of night, I can't help crying secretly. Obviously there is nothing worth being sad about, but I can't always be happy. I seemed to be cut off from the whole world, and the dense loneliness was crushing me. I don't know why some people can keep looking indifferent no matter what, I'm just extremely envious. Later, I also learned to do this. Empty all the emotions in my heart, I just feel extremely relaxed. I take myself so lightly, and take other people's eyes so seriously. My life is too tiring, so why bother. That's it, I'm fine.

During the consultation, there were two sentences that really touched me, and they are also given to the warriors who are struggling like me: You will get better. Someone can help you. Come on warriors!

Shhh, I'm so tired, let me take a nap

I went to the hospital some time ago. The doctor said that I was suffering from moderate to severe depression and atypical bipolar disorder, and he also prescribed me medicine. I would self-mutilate, not that I felt happy, I just wanted to do it, just like wanting to eat when I am hungry, but sometimes it is difficult for me to control the strength when the black dog comes. I can feel the pain but cannot "receive" it. Watching the blood flow out and dye the entire tissue red, I feel relieved and numb. My whole person is divided into two parts, one side is calm and extremely rational, and the other side is chaotic and uncontrollable. Many things I did during the excitement period were out of control, but my rational analysis clearly revealed a lot of things. I also knew that what I did might have consequences that I absolutely did not like and that it was not worth doing, but I still did it, and I always fell into very exhausted self-doubt for this reason. I'm so tired, I can't concentrate. Concentration is a very painful and difficult thing for me to do. I hate studying, but I have to learn. I originally only went to an ordinary high school, but I went through the back door to study at a key point, but my grades were lagging behind. Recently, the school even talked to my dad. I knew I had to study hard, but I just didn't want to study or move. My brain was empty, like a completely rusty and hopeless machine that couldn't move. This is so true. My parents will always think that you are lazy because you are not motivated and have given up studying. But I am very tired after struggling. I have lost all my strength and I just can't move. I want to talk to people, I want to tell people around me about my depression, I even shamelessly hope to get special treatment, I want to shout loudly: "Please, please be more considerate of me!" I want to educate the world about depression, and don't want to hear those heartbreaking words again. I am sick! Please face my depression! Many times I feel like I am struggling with all my strength. I really want to love life and myself. I also want to get better and work harder. I really want to become an excellent person, be praised and liked by others, have my own dreams and beliefs, and go on firmly. But now I have begun to resist even the painting that I once loved so much. Nothing is interesting, I live in a daze and emptiness, and the biggest feeling every day is tiredness. After taking the medicine, I felt much better, but more and more I began to suspect that I was being hypocritical. . This is what life is all about living for the sake of living.

I don't know when I started to fall asleep. A light was on and the music was playing all night. Every night, I thought about the way the blade cut through the skin and the blood flowed out. During the day, I was still the same as usual. But at night, I kept thinking about what it would be like after cutting my wrist. My thoughts collapsed. I always thought about dying. After death, nothing would happen. But my reason told me that this is not good. You can still hold on. Once, a small piece of flesh was cut off my finger. I even thought it was nothing. It didn't hurt much, it just seemed like that. At that time, I was wondering if cutting my wrist wouldn't hurt that much. I cut my wrist once, and I really thought at the time that it wouldn't be that painful if I died. But it didn't happen. It was too slow. I still lived and treated the wound. I thought that I still had a lot of things to do, wait, wait for a natural reason to die, so I continued to live like this. It turns out that a person needs a reason to live. I rushed towards death, but I also longed for the sunshine, although it was vague.

After reading this article and the words in the comment area, I feel heartbroken and sad, because I have suffered it before. I used to think that I am a wicked person, a bad person, why should I live in this world. There is a domestically violent father in my family. The most devastating thing is that for a month in a row, the sound of police cars was heard in our house almost every day. (I don't understand why my mother didn't resist, although it has happened before, but I didn't take it seriously.) In the end, my mother finally resisted, but my father was found to be mentally ill. In addition, there were so many things that happened during that period that I began to not want to study. Then my grades dropped and my classmates began to isolate me. Maybe it was from that month that I began to unconsciously self-abuse (when I was angry). At first I just hit the wall, then poked my hand with a pen, and finally cut my wrist with a knife. Then I gradually got used to it. Sometimes I even ran to the top of the building and wanted to jump off, but in the end I didn't. After that, I became more and more weird. I started to cry unconsciously, tears would fall unconsciously, I didn't want to go out of the room and felt scared when I left the room. Sometimes my stomach would hurt. Then my sister found out and just looked at it coldly. Of course, I won't do that anymore. There is a saying that I think is very good: "The world is so big, and you have never experienced anything good, such as food, drink, and beauty. Don't you want to go and see it?" In fact, life is not a big deal. People make it small, and time is only so short. It is better to be happy.

After reading this article and the words in the comment area, I feel heartbroken and sad, because I have suffered it before. I used to think that I am a wicked person, a bad person, why should I live in this world. There is a domestically violent father in my family. The most devastating thing is that for a month in a row, the sound of police cars was heard in our house almost every day. (I don't understand why my mother didn't resist, although it has happened before, but I didn't take it seriously.) In the end, my mother finally resisted, but my father was found to be mentally ill. In addition, there were so many things that happened during that period that I began to not want to study. Then my grades dropped and my classmates began to isolate me. Maybe it was from that month that I began to unconsciously self-abuse (when I was angry). At first I just hit the wall, then poked my hand with a pen, and finally cut my wrist with a knife. Then I gradually got used to it. Sometimes I even ran to the top of the building and wanted to jump off, but in the end I didn't. After that, I became more and more weird. I started to cry unconsciously, tears would fall unconsciously, I didn't want to go out of the room and felt scared when I left the room. Sometimes my stomach would hurt. Then my sister found out and just looked at it coldly. Of course, I won't do that anymore. There is a saying that I think is very good: "The world is so big, and you have never experienced anything good, such as food, drink, and beauty. Don't you want to go and see it?" In fact, life is not a big deal. People make it small, and time is only so short. It is better to be happy.

I've been depressed for several years, so long that I can't even remember how many years it was. But maybe it's not because of this, but because of my poor memory. I feel like I can't remember anything now. I cry at least once every day, and I always cry out of nowhere. I cry when eating bread, crying when sitting, crying when looking out the window... Perhaps my biggest advantage is that I can hide it in school. I would always try my best to hold back my tears in front of my parents. Every night I would secretly hide under the quilt and cry. I would turn over one side of the pillow cover when it got wet from crying and change it to the other side. I knew the feeling of crying until my body was shaking, the feeling of lying flat on the bed with tears falling down my face and into my ears, the feeling of tears flowing out of one eye and then into the other, and the feeling of crying until I fell asleep. Every time I had an attack, I felt like all the oxygen was being sucked out of me in an instant and I couldn't breathe. Every day my hands and feet feel heavy and I can't lift them, as if they weigh several tons. I am a person who is very afraid of pain, but I always hurt myself every time I collapse. Otherwise, I would want to kill someone. This is no joke. I know the cause of my illness very well. Every time I have an illness or collapse, it is all thanks to my parents. If I bite my hands until they bleed, they will only say that I am sick. My hair falls out in fistfuls every day. They will only dislike my hair loss. They will never think that I am sick. To be honest, I really hate them. Why did they bring me into this world? When I came to this world, I had something important to me. I wanted to see the beauty of this world, but I couldn't go out. I was tortured every day in my so-called home. I didn't want to live but I wasn't willing to die either.