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Depression and the change you can be

A lot of people will say I'm silly, that I have everything: opportunity, privilege, money, a highly helpful Uber app, a nice set of teeth, that I sound like the average western prick that is looking for the meaning of life. Whatever, the point in writing this is bringing up people to speed to a real problem: Stop blaming people for being "sad", "depressed", "down", it can often be a medical condition. I don't mind "feeling naked" if that will help at least one person.
You don't blame anyone for catching the flu, do you? My point.
There is a lot of stigma in medicine. It's our version of racism. What is the "moral ground" for it? The idea that of a sick person is to blame for his/her condition, then we should stigmatize that person. You name it: HIV+ patients, clinical depression, lung cancer. You have done it, I'm sure, at least one time (even if only in your head). I have always taken a deeper interest exactly at this part, because I see a lot of room for social change.
My father was very busy making that sort of change, and while I struggled through my teen years making every cell of my body to hate the profession he had chosen, I ended up doing nothing but the exact same thing he did: I was avid for change, for improvement. I put that in practice every way I could, and still do. Hopefully.
In the year of 2014 I faced the loss of my father, and among other things, even an episode of not being able to feel hungry for weeks (which resulted in -10kg... Unwished for, everyone that knows me knows that I am allergic to dieting!), it took me more than a year to seek the help that I obviously needed. Even though I could lead my life on a normal basis, I saw a lot of my basic functions impaired, and it was affecting my studying. So after a Neurology exam at university, I scheduled a shrink appointment and surprisingly: I was talking to the doctor in less than 2 hours from that phone call. You'd be surprised how psychiatry is neglected in this country (Russia), but that's not an issue I'm going to get in right now. Smirks.
As I started the "one white pill a day" treatment, I started to feel like myself again, I was utterly impressed by how I had forgotten who I really was, like that song says: "You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness".
A lot of [physical] symptoms were slowly fading as well: neck pain, waking up in the middle of the night, even if for short minutes, worrying (too much) about the future, blaming past situations over and over again, the crying.
It was only after two panic attacks (that resulted in fainting...) and a highly nervous state and a constant one (!) I was able to admit to myself: It's time to tackle this thing...
Two weeks ago I had a really bad episode. I was staring at the ceiling thinking when do the planets align and any of this makes sense. It's quite a dark place to come out from. I did. Because I have the privilege of information, which hopefully, is being somehow delivered to you,too.
Also, I have long been noticing the lack of function on Facebook, so I decided to use it as a tool for something... Useful.
When you stigmatize someone, it says a lot more about yourself than about the person who you've put a target on.
So be better, help yourself or help someone else close to you.
Now, I told you the story of a person that has access to information and medications , but the latter remains no reality for a lot of people. We had a 15-year-old seemingly joyful girl at school who ended up hanging herself. No one EVER suspected anything. Out of all people!
You want to keep on blaming these patients for it, go ahead, but it's sad, only for you, for that matter.
As you were...


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I first step foot on this land as a teenager who denied the existence of the Home. The world was bound to be the Home, and I knew it, even then. I have always suffered from chronic curiosity.

We felt everything, we knew nothing, we toasted and danced, we slept on couches and had neck-pain the other day. I was present and took part in weddings, police investigations, births, fires, carbon monoxide poisoning and car accidents. I left my appendix here, I ran through the streets of a cold winter to catch an ambulance before they left to help a friend, I didn’t think about slipping on the ice and dying, not a single moment. I developed a nail polish habit, a skin care routine and depression as …