Kid Cudi last week checked himself into rehab for depression and suicidal thoughts!

Today, earlier in the morning, someone started to share their story on depression and how it has affected her.

Well, I would never be depressed, right? Life is for the living. Life is for living.

I once developed a benign tumor when I was 18, something that had started when I was 15, and I was operated on. Luckily, it was benign, nothing too serious. I had an operation for it when I was in my vacation, and a localized anesthetic was used. I was okay after sometime, went on with my life.

I’ve always had a hyper active mind but with a general sense of control, I’ve managed to bring down those thoughts to a minor blur. For a very long time, especially from when I was 18, I could never sleep alone in a room, let alone in darkness. I remember most of my vacation was spent with lights on, and that became uncomfortable but I mean, if things are going to shift when the lights are off, I’d rather have them on. I’d sleep with the lights on and when my parents went to bed, they’d turn them off. And when I awoke and found them off, I’d turn them on and go back to bed.

I once thought myself to be bipolar. My emotions would go from 0-100 real quick, I had so much rage but again, with a generalized sense of control (more like if you do that, you will regret it kinda self control), I learnt to control it. I remember once when I was 18 I fought with everyone in the house because my young brother had changed the channel while I was watching the telie. I was watching sports highlights and puff*, cartoons came on. Obliviously I asked him to put back the sports channel but you know how young brothers are. It wasn’t until I was being held down by my ‘twin‘young brother, two sisters and my mother that I realized that this rage was not good.The remote and decoder smart card were also broken. I now see the same rage in my young brother now. He’s 15. I once told my mother that this was a serious issue. I have seen the same bipolar/rage tendencies in my father and his sisters too. I want to believe my grandfather was the same. The inability to express yourself and the switch in emotions is scary.

I had to learn to control that rage, that anger, and also critically asses the situation. I used to play basketball until I realized it helped and so I started playing every other weekend and use that as an outlet for the pent up energy. I know, amusing. I once told my friend about me taking out all the negative energy on the court and they thought I was being dramatic.

Back to depression…

The ‘benign’tumors came back when I was around 22. I thought the first operation would have sorted me out. Being sick again, the discomfort kinda put me in a downer. This coupled with my very exciting mind were just a recipe for a proper downer. There was a deeper sadness. Happy when you are around people but consumed by your thoughts when you are all alone. But being a man, or thinking myself one, I would never be depressed. I finally went for that second surgery, and this time it was full anesthetic. I remember going under and asking the doctor what would happen if I didn’t wake up, and he smiled and said that they’d just wheel me to the mortuary. Ok. That and the fact that I was still pissed that the attending nurse had failed to place the cannula on me and it left my arm with many scars from the niddle.

When I finally awoke, I was on the recovery bed, happy that I had at least woken up. This time I was reassured that it was not going to happen again. And the doctor also claimed that the first surgery was done poorly. It is also interesting to know that I had played basketball with the doctor occasionally. Small world, right? That night, an accident victim had been wheeled into my recovery room, a car and bodaboda collision from what I had heard and when morning came, he had not made it through the night

The depression kicks in…

A person passing on is not a good experience, especially when you are sharing a room. I went home with thoughts burdened, wondering if I was next. From when I had the surgery, and my hyperactive mind, to the weird rage fits, sleeping was impossible and happiness was near to impossible. School was taking a toll on me-third year, I had failed that semester and that meant re-doing a whole year. It is a funny thing trying to make yourself happy. Occasionally, I’d sleep and think to myself, it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I woke up or didn’t wake up. The thoughts kept on playing in my mind. You have those deep reflective moments where you philosophize and think about life, its meaning and whatever. Sunsets became my favourite thing to see, because I knew, I am/was still here.

Truth is, being depressed is like a catch 22, a double edged sword and it’s easy to mask it. Sometimes, you don’t even know of think of it as being depressed. Just another bad day. And another bad day, and another bad day.

So, what happens next…

Fighting with my family over a stupid TV was eye opener. The rage was not good. My mother up to this day claims I was possessed by a demon, shabby afro hair, unpressed clothes were a norm then. So I decided to play basketball more because it would tire me out, physically, and mentally. I stopped drinking, and quit the cigarettes. Healthy living. I started to focus on faith, regain my spirituality. And slowly I started to create healthy habits. I focused on school work, it kept my mind busy. I also turned the depression and hyper active thoughts to good use, moments of introspect and a deeper search for meaning. Good friends help too, in a way they don’t know. But most of all, writing helped.


I have always liked to write. I first learnt to keep a journal when I was 13, and penning my thoughts was good catharsis. And eventually, this blog. I think I would read what I write over and over again, more or else to check and see what my state of mind is and what my state of being is. Writing for me is not just a matter of sharing or making people read but as a means of talking to myself. And I will read this tomorrow and smile, not because of the clicks….those are very few but because I would know.


I still have my low moments. My I need to be alone moments. I still have the rage, just controlled, and sometimes I honestly pity the guy who gets me on a bad day. And it is exciting to be able to control that rage. And for fucks sake, I still sleep with the lights on. Ok, when I am alone in the house. And my hyper active mind, uhm, you should attempt to read my fiction! Dragons rule.

Understanding myself was/is key in helping me realize whatever was going on. I think.

If you feel like your life has no meaning, or the thoughts consume you to the point of non existence then seek help. It’s not a good feeling. 🙂



12 thoughts on “Depression!

  1. I can relate to the way writing helps you understand yourself better. Moments I’m not sure how I feel or my state of mind/being, I write (though not to be published), then when I read through, it’s like me looking at me from outside in (which is also quite something, as it’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to realize my desire to see myself in different perspectives).

  2. Very Real Man. Thank you for sharing. I relate.

    Read some titles by Chade-Meng Tan (Google’s jolly good fellow.) eg. Search Inside yourself, How to master your mind in 100 minutes, joy on demand.
    His YouTube talks are a great resource too.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s