I’ve always had mental depression but i wonder how i’d do if i didn’t have it. Leading a normal life is something i always wanted. My dad was no use. He didn’t understand that i needed help. Either that or he didn’t care. From an early age i knew that i had something i couldn’t cure. I just didn’t realise how bad it was. Back in the seventies, when i grew up, it was a sign of weakness if you let it get the better of you so you didn’t talk about it.
I tried but nothing seemed to work. I was heading in one direction. Nothing helped me. As if anything could. Now, i’m disabled and can’t walk. I cry because i’m stuck and can’t do anything. Life is cruel. If only i could do something to end it all, i would.
I had a family and thought it would solve the problem but it only made it worse. My son became a thug during his teenage years. My dad stopped talking to him and even now tries to avoid anything to do with Jon. I had a torrid time of it. I couldn’t cope and wished i could deal with everything that was going on around me.
My life has become something that i hide from. It hasn’t been successful but it could have been. I made many mistakes but ultimately it was always a disaster and i take full responsibility for it.
