Friday, May 25, 2018
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If it wasn’t for my mother, I’d have ended my life

It was a daily struggle. But my mother was there to attend to my needs, always by my side, caring for me the only way she knew how
05:49 AM May 13, 2017


Mental illness is difficult to comprehend and accept, not just by society, but also by the people themselves who suffer from it.

The subject is taboo and the nature of mental illness as a condition and disorder remains a mystery to many.

The difference between depression and sadness is not fully determined, often misinterpreted. For instance, jumping off a building, slitting one’s wrists and other self-inflicted physical harm are viewed as desperate moves for attention. The conflicting emotions and psychological torture in such situations are blamed on the person.


The hard truth is, when a person’s mental health suffers, it does not only affect his or her thoughts and actions, but also how other people perceive it. It is important that the person is encouraged to speak out and
be heard.

Something was wrong

A year ago, I went through a rush of emotions—fearing that people would disappear from my life because I was unconsciously pushing them away. I was mad at the universe and at myself for things I could not articulate.

Nonetheless, I knew something was wrong. Everything I did seemed useless, especially writing. I couldn’t behave like my normal self and I blamed myself for it.

But wisdom reveals that it’s okay not to be okay, more so when adversities come our way. Sadly, however, those wise words were not enough to get me through.

Even with the thought that no one else could help me but myself, an unexpected person made her presence felt. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve ended my life.


The day I wanted to kill myself was the day my mother found out that I was suffering from depression. I thought she would be angry over my behavior. I was wrong.


To suffer from depression is hell. I became deviant for months, even blaming my mother for everything. I couldn’t see past the tough love she was giving because I foolishly believed she was just like most people—telling me to snap out of my melancholia.

It was a daily struggle. But mother was there to attend to my needs, always by my side, caring for me the only way she knew how.

She made me feel so loved—not just by giving me money, but more so by traveling from the province to the city to visit me. That was the time I felt I was still her daughter.

The simple things

As a college student, I had weekends full of activities. And my mom would still make it a point to see me. Despite the communication gap that I caused, she did not hesitate to convince me to enjoy the simple things.

Soon I realized that in the rush to accomplish much in life, we have forgotten how it feels to be normal. I was a mess, but my mom didn’t make me feel like I was a burden to her.

Now I can say I’m a happy person.

Mental illness can be destructive. There are cases that need more support, or a specific person to handle it.

Equal cases
But we need to look at these cases equally. Not
everyone is obliged to help people deal with their problems, but isn’t caring for each other the most important
of life’s purposes?

If we just stay a little longer to be with someone who’s hurting and trying to heal, if we don’t easily give up on people, even if they give up on themselves, the world will probably have less worries that could cause mental illness.

Happy Mother’s Day!—CONTRIBUTED

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TAGS: Depression, Mother's Day, student, student essay, Teen Depression
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