I was diagnosed with depression and schizoaffective disorder when I was 16. I quit high school when I was 17/18 and entered a spiral of self-destruction and isolation. They were my worst years. I recovered, and I started to eat more, go out with friends and improving my mental health. But, sometimes, I stopped fighting.
I tried to kill myself several times, but the worst one (when I first entered the psychiatric ward in the hospital) was when I was heartbroken. I loved someone, that someone didn’t loved me back, I only wanted to be understood, she did, then se didn’t. I’m not going to go further, only to say I swallowed lot’s of pills and alcohol.
I surrender there. Like there was nothing to fight for. After that, I lived between trying to do something (I started a career in physics, lasted one year, and the same with philosophy) But I learned to keep fighting.
The problem is, sometimes you need to fight more for other causes. Gender equality or against racism or sexism. We have to change the world, but we should start with our own house. Fighting for those who can’t fight.
I should’ve fought harder against the problems my family had. I won’t go into details, but I was a failure to someone, throwing the towel to the floor, giving that round for lost. And I could’ve lost more if that person didn’t have something greater than me: the need to fight against the odds.
So, that’s what I want to say. Keep fighting. You never know what worse things are ahead, when we give up. But I wrote this not because of me. Because that person I failed reminded me of that. “Keep fighting” I’ll keep fighting, even when I’ve lost all rounds. I maybe defeated, but I’ll fight until the end.