It all started on the first day of 2004. I was 11. My father quit his job and my mother was forced to sell homemade snacks and pickles to run the house. My parents fought constantly and I lost interest in studies.

 In 2005, my father grounded me for asking my mother for a glass of water. My grandmother made it clear that the house belonged to her and we were at her mercy.

My mother was more concerned about my marks than my happiness.

In 2006, I didn't have any friends at school. The home was still the same, a house that belonged to my grandmother.

In 2007, I got my first boyfriend who ditched me for my best friend. To get over him, I accepted another boy's proposal even though I didn't love him.

In 2008, I moved to a different city, away from the handful of friends that I'd managed to make and my new boyfriend.

In 2009, all my friends deserted me because I chose to have a fling with a Muslim boy.

He was the one who introduced me to my sexual urges.

In 2010, I made some new friends and found new love. Not only did my new love reject me but also flaunted his interest in other girls to make me feel jealous.

In 2011, the boy I loved used me and I was in denial about it. My closest friends distanced themselves from me because I refused to listen to them.

In 2012, I tried to commit suicide because the boy I loved kept rejecting me.

He also convinced my friends that I was torturing him with my obsession with him.

In 2013, I lost my love and all my friends, except for one, who tried his best to keep my spirits high but failed. I was depressed and obese beyond imagination. I weighed 100 kg by then.

In 2014, I dated a close friend who refused to call it a relationship and that cost me my friendship with him. Another boy in my class attracted my attention but he refused to get involved with me once I got used to him.

In 2015, my parents were close to getting divorced after having lived away from each other for 7 years.

By then, my father had sexually abused my mother to a point that she lost interest in the company of a life partner completely.

In 2016, my love turned me on one night and left me craving for more. The urges caused me so much pain that I resorted to losing my virginity to my close friend.

In 2017, I was sexually and emotionally abused by a colleague I fell in love with.

My friends laughed at me because I was obese and certified me unworthy of being loved by any wise being.

In 2018, I lost touch with my father due to his ego. I sacrificed my appetite to lose weight. I proposed to my close friend who rejected me. Months later I learned that he had had sex with me out of pity and for his own pleasure. Weeks later, I found new love.

By 2019, I had tried to commit suicide more than 5 times, as I feared to lose my boyfriend.

I didn't want to lose him because I feared no one would love me after him.

I terribly missed my father too; we hadn't spoken for over a year.

As I turned 27, my boyfriend had already cheated on me twice and was being unbearably possessive. But for the first time, I felt that I was better without all this drama.

The fire that had been burning me from the past 17 years extinguished all of a sudden.

Something in me made me put a full stop to my depression. I ended that relationship, and surprisingly, felt happy about it.

It's been 6 months since I broke up with the man I was so determined to marry even though he belonged to a completely diverse cultural and financial background. It's been 2 years since my father and I saw each other's face, let alone spoke to each other. It's been over a year since I had a stable job.

But for the first time in years, I don't feel depressed about anything.

In these 17 years, I didn't really have anyone to talk to, anyone who could really understand the storm inside me, which was pulling me apart bit by bit.

I was convinced that no one loved me; that I wasn't worthy of being loved.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I would see darkness everywhere. But I would also see a speck of light, far away from me. All these years, all I did was chase that speck of light. It took me 17 years to reach it.

I didn't realize that I was reaching the light until I shut the doors on everything that caused me pain.

Not everyone can see that speck of light. But we can help those who are depressed by finding a way. In the 17 years of my depressing journey, I have tried to commit suicide at least 10 times. However, I couldn't gather enough courage to put my mother through the pain of my death. I was the only one she had.

Yet, when I was depressed, death felt so much better than life.

Depression is a slow poison. It isn't easy to deal with singularly. If you are depressed, talk to someone. Anyone you think can understand you. If you cannot think of anyone who can understand you, write! A diary, a blog, an article... anything you can, and make sure that the people you love find it.

If you come across someone who seems depressed, listen to them, urge them to speak to you. For many, it doesn't have to take 17 years. And this time around, when you say "Happy New Year", resolve to have that happiness exist everywhere every moment. 

Help them find the speck of light. Lead them to peace and happiness. Help them live!

Share This Story