A while back, I started sharing my experience with depression. Today, talking with a friend reminded me I never got around to writing more about it.
Throughout the years, I felt at odd with other people, those I perceived as "normal". I felt there was something deeply wrong with me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
I was as lonely as a student than I had been as a teenager. When people my age were out partying, I was at home reading or studying. I wasn't invited and it didn't occur to me to ask whether I could join them. Instead of socializing, I would walk alone for hours in the streets of Brussels, dreaming my life away. I felt painfully lonely, and developed numerous crushes on boys that I never knew how to approach. The only way I knew was to tell them how I felt, with the immediate result of them pulling away from me. So, I imagined love stories that would never be.
I was as lonely as a student than I had been as a teenager. When people my age were out partying, I was at home reading or studying. I wasn't invited and it didn't occur to me to ask whether I could join them. Instead of socializing, I would walk alone for hours in the streets of Brussels, dreaming my life away. I felt painfully lonely, and developed numerous crushes on boys that I never knew how to approach. The only way I knew was to tell them how I felt, with the immediate result of them pulling away from me. So, I imagined love stories that would never be.
Once I started working, the loneliness persisted. My Asperger's quirks meant that people viewed me suspiciously. At the best of times, they made fun of me; often they disliked me. I never socialized with my colleagues.
I never felt like I fit in in any job - I was like a square peg in a round hole. I felt inadequate no matter what I did and my self-esteem plummetted.
During that time, I met a man and started my first serious relationship (although that is a long story, for another time, possibly). As he was bipolar (with longer periods of being depressed than anything else), "caring" for him gave me some sense of purpose, but it was also mentally exhausting. I naively believed that I would love the depression out of him (not fully realizing I was suffering from depression myself). For the first time in my life, I experienced love and intimacy, but I never felt safe, because his depression caused him to react in unexpected ways and I felt he could leave me at any time.
I eventually took a postgraduate degree to become a primary school teacher. Teaching was a completely draining experience for me and eventually led me to a full-blown burnout. Soon after that, my boyfriend left me, and I sank into severe depression. The following years were arguably the most difficult in my life.
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