Fatal Depression

I almost lost a dear person to suicide, but this article isn't about me. It's about Amy, which is obviously not a real name. And before you ask, yes it's a true story.

Amy is a regular young woman. Or at least that's the first impression everyone has. But under the layers of fake smiles and small talks, she's in deep pain. She suffers from depression and after begging her parents, she sought professional help at last.

The therapist prescribed her some anti-depressants after listening to her for two sessions. She took them regularly, believing in the possibility of living a mentally healthier life. Her mood actually improved a lot in a short period of time, which gave some hope to her beloved ones.

Needless to say, she shared the notion of going to a therapist with only few family members and friends, because of the judgements and stupidity people are capable of. Especially in Egypt. Most people think that going to a psychiatrist means you're crazy. 

She kept visiting the therapist and taking the meds, until her father forbade her, thinking she might become addicted to the pills which will lead to an even worse end. That's what he thought, but was it right? Her sleeping cycles once again became a mess and her chats with people became dull and short, again.

Despite having the majority of what a girl needs, the few things that she lacked became larger in her eyes. Her studies were on top of the list, she can't study anymore, she's just too busy thinking everything in her head and probably blaming herself quite a lot too. But all of these are just my own assumptions, since no-one can read her mind. I bet not even her.

I texted her to see what was going on with her life, especially after the trip she went to.

" I went to the hospital" she said.

The first idea that came up to me was a car accident or maybe she fainted or something. But...

" Poisoning"

And before I could ask her about what she ate, she told me she took ten pills..

" The dose turned out to be less than enough for a coma or death"

I tried to be as calm as possible, so I don't ruin everything. "What happened? Was everything in the trip okay?"

"No, nothing happened. I'm just incapable of becoming happy. I can't anymore" Amy told me.

What should be done now? What can be done to prevent a second and probably final attempt? Her way of talking about the whole thing assures me she'll try again. The thought scares me beyond imagination. My friends and family know quite well I'm not the sensitive type, but the whole thing left me sobbing... Blogging became my way of emptying my soul from all the grief and secrets it carries. God help us...!

Home Alone

Not everyone is lucky enough or has really open-minded parents to be able to experience living alone, we must all admit. However I was lucky enough. My parents trust me and believe that the way they raised me is reliable. They worry about me, that's normal, but they never doubt for a second me being off path.

I've been living alone for almost two months, only. But I think it's enough to be able to judge the experience and compare it.

Living alone vs. with parents. 

So far the best thing about living with your parents is not doing chores, according to everyone I meet! But what if you're used to cooking and doing chores at your parents' house? I must admit it came in handy and I even improved my cooking skills! Another awesome thing about living with parents is that you don't have to deal with cash or keep a budget. It is really hard to deal with this. At least for me. Even if I made an Excel sheet to calculate my expenses, it's not enough to estimate how much money I need per month. Because there are always these things that pop out and you have to buy them. Like when it became super cold and I had to buy some warmer clothes. It's urgent, it's sudden and it's also expensive. Everything is, when you live on your own to be honest. I've never noticed how much money I spent on grocery till I took care of the whole thing. I truly feel bad about the damn amount of money my parents have to give me just for food. Electricity. Transportation. WATER. It never ends and it's hectic. Did I mention having to carry grocery because I don't own a car?

On the other hand, you do whatever the hell you want to and no permission needed! Despite the fact that all the shops close early here, I can still have a nice walk late, go jogging or ride a bike. The night is really peaceful with fewer people in the streets. I can cook the meals I want as much as I want. There was a period when I ate salmon and pasta every single day. Why? Why not! It's my favorite dish and no-one's gonna tell me "Enough we've had it yesterday!" when I suggest eating it.

Living alone vs. with a roommate. 

When I first arrived in France, I wasn't 100% prepared and stayed in a hotel for long before I arranged to move into a students residence. And because I'm not lucky enough there was a three-week gap between moving out from the hotel and to my new studio/room/whatever you'd like to call it. I certainly didn't want to spend a fortune so I called a friendly Egyptian student- let's call her Minnie- who has offered before that I stayed with her for while. She accepted that I stay with her, which is awesome because I was so close to sleeping in the streets! Or the subway, because it's heated and there are vending machines, I love vending machines.

So I moved in with Minnie. I tried my best to not be annoying or messy but apparently I failed. Minnie was so strict when it came to the apartment's cleanliness. No dishes should remain in the sink (except after the breakfast cause we're always in a hurry in the morning), weekly moping for the whole place and no bread crumbs on the table. Yeah, I used to leave crumbs on the table, I know it's gross but I would've removed them the next day or something. Anyway, Minnie then decided to make a timetable for the chores. We didn't follow it all the time but it was there, hanging on the kitchen wall, to remind us that we didn't take out the trash and remind me that I left a dish (at least) in the sink.

A week in and I was already used to Minnie by my side. It was really nice to have someone to talk about you day and tell them anecdotes. It was nice to have someone when you're down. And sometimes we hung out and it was, for sure, better than going out alone.

Living alone vs. living alone

I do everything. From chores to waking up on your own. No-one offers to help. Even if you you're tired or sick, you're still single-handed.

I have to be my own guide. No-one tells me to not eat this brownie cause I'll get fat or to not drink tea cause it's bad for my stomach. No-one's gonna tells me to pray, do my assignments or call my relatives to wish them happy feast. If I make a mistake no-one will keep bringing it up to remind and warn me.

I'm my own CEO, boss or president. I only do the dishes when I feel like it or when I have nothing to eat on. I sweep (not mop!) the floor only once a week. Some clothes are on the bed others on the drying stand. Sometimes, few socks are on the floor. And when I'm not comfortable about it I tidy it of course. I can dance, exercise or cry whenever I need wherever I want. The heating is on the temperature I choose and I open the window comme je veux. No. Limits. At. All. And if you're thinking I'm being ridiculous because these are 'minor' things, then I'm sorry these 'minor' things are game changers and they can change your mood 180°! And also, they can affect your health and mood.

But the worst part about living alone is the 'alone' part. Feeling homesick. Needing company. A hug. Needing someone to share your suicidal thoughts with and help you out. I call my friends and family as much as I can but the thing is that it's hard! Sometimes I'm busy, sometimes they are. Sometimes the internet connection sucks. Sometimes I don't wanna bother anyone. Sometimes I can't even move after a long day so calling will be too much effort.

I can't help but overthink. Rethink what you've said and did. Blame myself, even for things that I can't change or didn't do. When you're all alone, you see yourself in a different light. No filters, no lies. You criticize the dark side of you more often, and you hate that side then hate yourself for having one. And this is how you get those suicidal thoughts. "What if?" and "why?" till your head explodes. And the memories and the flashbacks. Those beautiful memories of yours who make your day brighter but trigger your homesickness as well. And those painful flashbacks that swore they'll make regret your not-wise-at-all actions and words.

Honestly, not everyone can live alone. And not everyone can live with a company. Sometimes each phase of our lives even requires a change too. It's too complicated. I'll possibly write a second part.