Depression vs Depression

So this might be a bit longer. I try to keep it short.

When I was about 13, maybe even younger, it became like a battle who would feel the worst, who had it the hardest. We had this one friedn that always really really openly talked about how shit her life was and how much troubles she was in etc.. We just all thought it was ridiculous and attention seeking. It was kinda `trend` to be depressive but you were also shamed as being an attention whore. It seemed like everyone around me who was 'someone' in a group had this super tough story of how miserable they were.
My so called best friend always talked so much shit about the other friend and that other friend was always so occupied telling everyone and I mean everyone, even people we just met, her story, that I just did not tell anyone.

I have been miserable my whole life. I hated myself for being different. And I told myself I was an ass for doing so. 
I told myself that I was not depressed, instead I was weak and my time would come stuff like that. I actually joined in and made fun of my depressed friend. I hated her for getting the attention, because I needed it too. I too needed random people to tell me that they would look out for me. I silently shamed her for dropping out of everything, to just keep it together and do excellent in academics. But I did that because that was what I did. I effing sucked it up und aced everything, even though at the end of the day I would break down in my room and cry like there was no tomorrow.

My heart beats too fast because I am constantly scared of everything. I was even scared just to wait at a bus stop, almost had a break down every morning entering my school, even meeting up with friends was darn exhauting. I constantly forced myself to do things I was scared of too so no one would notice. Sometimes I just went out for a few hours, just so I was there. Just so I could pretend I was part of something. 

There will probably be a whole nother chapter on friendships.

I was 20 when I first told someone, the boyfriend at the time, that I was depressive. I took everything I got and it took him less than a second to make fun of me. That broke me even more and I wasn't sure there were still pieces big enough to break. Turns out those pieces would still get grinded up later on.
21 when I first really talked about getting therapy with a flatmate back then. 
Almost 23 when I broke down so bad, no chance of going back. 
Finally admitted to a clinic. 

So anyways I tottally drifted off topic now. What I really wanted to talk about was the whole issue about back then everyone was shaming each other for being an attention whore. Everyone saying they were in fact much worse of.  And people basically telling me I had no right to be depressed.

You are not a attention whore for not keeping it in.
Only you decide who to tell and who not to tell about your story.
STOP freaking battling your depression. You can't measure suffering. 
You don't suffer less because you tell or don't tell people.


And foremost : you have the right to suffer no matter what
your feelings are legit no matter what other people tell you