Ok, story time
Alright.
A few months ago now my only (that i know of) closeted gay friend (this is an important detail, promise) came round to my house before school (we go to the bus together) and when I asked him if he was OK (just how I greet people) he broke down crying. I was understandably confused and worried, and asked him what happened where he told me he felt depressed and didn't want to go to school. I am not the sort of person who skips school (although I was seriously considering it) so I said that we could purposely miss the bus so that he could calm down, have half an hour to talk, call my mum to drive us to school (she'd already gone to work at this point) and then see what happened from there.
He declined though, so we talked for a bit about why he felt like that (if it was at home, bullying at school or what) and he told me it was a mix of something somebody had said (not directly mean or hurtful) that had set off his anxiety (something we had already been working on, like ordering food or talking to new people ect.) and that he was paranoid, worried about coming out of the closet, and generally feeling down and depressed.
By this point we'd very much missed the bus so, as he seemed a little calmer, I suggested we go over to his house (his mum wouldn't have left for work yet) and have her drive us to school after giving us half an hour or so to properly clean up and calm down, during which time we could assess the comment someone had made, figure out if it was anything to worry over or if it was nothing.
When we arrived at his house he had stopped crying, and he seemed much more ready with an active plan as opposed to not wanting to do anything or have to deal with anyone. We knocked on the door (a little sheepishly, we were supposed to have got on the bus 20 minutes before this), and his mum opened the door half-ready for work.
She then ripped into him for a good 5 minutes about how he should've stopped crying, sucked it up and got on the bus, and now he was making me and her late as well. I was shocked; her child came to her with red eyes and had actually already been crying that morning yet she still shouted at him for making his friend (who I may add actually had the idea of going to her for help) and her late?
After she told us to get in the house she continued yelling at him, including things along the lines of 'everyone's going to think you're pathetic for crying' and 'you can't be depressed, you have two parents, food to eat and friends' 'starving children have it worse' (which okay fine they probably do but that's NOT SOMETHING YOU SAY TO YOUR CLEARLY UPSET CHILD WHO CAME TO YOU FOR HELP) and 'its not a big deal, ignore your anxiety, you just want attention' (DO YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANXIETY). During this he started crying again, and I stood trying not to actively fight for his cause (he was clearly shrinking inside of himself) and stood very still as to not focus her attention on me (I had a few choice words I would have liked to use) until she had finished drying and curling (or whatever) her hair and had gotten dressed.
She sent us out to her car, where I told my friend that I did not agree with anything she just said and that if he was going to try and pretend nothing had happened he should focus on calming down, and start checking what lesson he had, how confused our other friends would be ect. to take his mind off everything so he could calm down and blame his red eyes on the cold if needs be.
When we reached the school we were very late so the late-gate woman came over (presumably to give us detentions) but was alarmed by my friend's not convincing okay-face so sent us to the school therapist (she has a different title but I forgot it) who asked questions about what was worrying him ect. (What I'd done but better) and said that counseling would be a good idea if he wanted, no pressure.
I am happy to report that my friend is a lot better now, has since come out to his friends, is still taking (weekly? Bi-weekly? I don't know) counseling sessions during lessons (score!), and is working on his anxiety.
I feel the need to share this because he had someone to tell, someone to confide in, someone who'd read enough tumblr posts about depression to have a vague idea what they were talking about.
Not everybody does.
