Sey

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• Germany

I think I might have been in a similar situation when I was younger.
If I remember rightly, my depression started when I was 14 years old. I recall having referred that age to a psychiatrist at a later date, although there has been a kind of melancholia before, which I thought was pretty normal.
I want to tell you about this, because there might be a little spurt of hope for you and others not to make the same mistakes.

I used to imagine ways to die, but rather in a romantic sense. For a long time it didn’t bother me at all what my brain was doing on its own. I had no other reference and was sure that people were usually going through such times. I never talked about it, as I thought it was simply unnecessary having in mind that this was the normality from my point of view. So I kept it to myself, not quite appearing to me that this was an exception.
I knew my whole life I was different, but not until my first identity crisis I really wanted to understand what was going on or what was wrong with me. That was when I asked my parents to turn to a psychiatrist on my behalf. I was 18 then. These years in between have been heavily affected by indecisiveness, vacillation and the downside trend in terms of emotion, social life and school performance. I was occupied with searching for answers that could help me overcome the large gap I was finding myself in eventually.
After my first visit at the psychiatrist, I was diagnosed with traits of Asperger. Still it seems like an uncertain diagnosis to me, because at 18 you’re far too old to be tested like a child and still too young to be tested like an adult. I’m happy that today I can say there’s no need for a name that stands for characteristics which don’t fit into society.

The last months of school were quite challenging, especially with A-levels in sight.
I was sad not to have been able to deliver top performance (at least the one I would have been capable of), but I never regret at all that I was spending my time in a different way. I used to think that by finishing school, things would work out.
I went abroad to India for a year to contribute to a community of people with disabilities (Let’s not talk about the political aspect of such a volunteer programme). It was a beneficial year for me. Like other young people in that age, it was mainly about whether one can exceed own limits and how far one can even go. Slipping into new roles, arising opportunities… Adolescent foolishness at its best.

This is exactly the point I want to get at with my story. After India, I went to a Norwegian facility for people with disabilities for another year with the feeling of foreboding arising that something will definitely happen then. Now you might think that my reactions are extremely sensitive and maybe they are not understandable or even unfathomable.
Things went out of control: The village was quarrelling since I came there. A bunch of disputers who call themselves adults, a widespread phenomenon I suppose. It started with my mood conforming to the morbid winter with 4-5 hours of sunshine per day at most, and slaughtering which I agreed to assist (I’m vegetarian however). The psychiatrist was speaking of a trauma, don’t know where that came from. I had roughly 3 hours of sleep each night and refused to fucking sleep. I simply could not find any rest, driven by something I was not able to reveal yet. I stopped eating for quite a while and slowly but steadily slipped into a world of hallucinations. It got so terrible when my environment started to talk to me. I obeyed these orders, I was torn inside. The strange thing about it was that I knew all along that it was me projecting inner conflicts onto everything that was around me. I could not resist and felt the urgent need to play along. It was so fascinating and captured all of me. It was a game after all. A horrifying one, as everything was pushing me further and finally forcing me into suiciding. This is hard to explain but basically means escaping the situation with all its factors, which seemed the only solution at that time. I had several attempts when I went into the sea, but somehow fearing the end and managing to get out again. You’re not ready when your mind is reduced to fear. 4°C at 3am can be seriously cold. Even though I did not feel any pain back then.
I had a person I could talk to (it was a complicated relationship based on falsifications all the time), and she finally made me see a psychiatrist. She explained to me what a severe depression episode with a subsequent psychosis was. I had appointments regularly from now on. Some days later I found myself acting as if in a trance, standing on top of a bridge pillar.
I finally agreed on taking medicine (Olanzapine) starting from that time, which is used for schizophrenic psychoses. This was in January 2014. Gosh, this was a blessing at first! Made me wind down and even slowing down my thinking processes as I like to describe it. Hell, I am still on this shit!
The psychosis has probably faded away by now, the depression is left over and I am fucking fearing schizophrenia to take over. There’s that prodromal phase I am fucking anxious about. I cannot stress this word more. Fuck. Sry for getting too emotional.

But I started studying since all that settled down. I’m 21, I’m living on my own and I stay in contact with what is most important to me in life nowadays – my family. You know, there’s always a reason for hope, as silly or naïve as this may sound.
Passing on my experience, I hope you will listen to your instinctual warning whenever you might be in danger one day. Make sure to voice how you feel. It doesn’t matter who you’re gonna talk to, but you have to trust this person. I’m making use of a consultation offer once a week at university that is free of cost. It’s done by a psychiatrist I like. I personally don’t think it is necessary to consult a psychiatrist as long as you feel like not surpassing a limit that gets you and others thinking. It was alarming whenever I went too far, you would certainly feel it!
 

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