Have you ever felt depressed? I don't mean feeling sad. Chances are it's possible. According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, more than 15 million Americans, or about 6.7 percent of the US population whom are 18 years old or older, struggle with depression. This includes myself.
In January of 2015, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder with Recurrent Episodes, however I had been living with it for much longer than that. Major Depressive Disorder is classified as a brain disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities causing significant impairment in daily life according to Mayo Clinic. Before I continue on, I want to advise readers that this could possibly be triggering and to be cautious when reading.
I'm going to be honest - struggling with depression stinks. In this article, I am going to get personal, but I think it is important to share my story and how depression affects my daily life, so sit back, relax, and explore the world that is 'Me.'
When I look back, I can see the end of my eighth grade year was when things began to change. All year long, I had told my parents that I wanted to try something new, and I wanted to go out for Track & Field in the spring. When Track season came around, I backed out of it. I told myself that I had too much going on at school, and I didn't want to fall behind in my classes. I didn't think anything was weird about it. The end of the school year came, and it hit me pretty hard. It was the best year I ever had in the K-12 education system (I had some pretty great years), and it was all thanks to my amazing teachers I had. I was really bummed I never got to say goodbye to them due to leaving school early with a friend. When I got home, I cried. I cried because I didn't know if I would ever have an amazing year like that, and because I knew I would never get to have those teachers again.
My freshman year of high school was when things really began to show themselves. At the beginning of the year, I decided I was going to be very active in school. I joined color guard, art club, environmental club, and planned to audition for the play. Unfortunately, I never auditioned, and I slowly began leaving those clubs.
In January of 2013 (the second semester of my freshmen year), my first depressive episode hit. I began to isolate myself. I avoided going out with friends or doing things with my family. I spent all my time at home in my room, and I would only leave the house to go to school and work. At the time, I had no idea that what I was doing was actually making my depression worse. I was tired all the time, and I never had any motivation or energy to do anything. My escape from reality was sleeping...
Until...
I had an idea. I went into my art closet and began digging. Finally I found an old pencil box that was given to me. It had lots of old school supplies in it. I used one of them to scratch at my skin for the very first time. It was something I had seen and heard about at school, but I couldn't believe people did worse things than that. It was uncomfortable. But once I was finished, I felt a little relieved. It was a weird feeling.
As the rest of the school year went on, I would feel happy for a while, but eventually the depressive thoughts came back. This pattern has followed me into my life now as a freshman in college.
The more and more depressed that I got, the worse I began to feel about myself. My self-talk was very negative, and I started to believe each and every word. Eventually, I hated myself. That led to suicidal thoughts, which led to actions. Not only was I self harming myself, but I also attempted suicide.
I know this is deep, just hang in here with me.
January 22, 2015 and March 25, 2015 are very important dates in my life. These were the days I attempted. I am SOgrateful that I am still here today. At the time though, I was very upset with myself. I convinced myself that I did not have a reason for living. I believed I didn't have anything to offer the world.
Luckily for me, I began seeing a therapist in and outside of school. I also went to the guidance office frequently my junior and senior years of high school. I was constantly talking to someone about what was going on in my life and how I was feeling. This helped immensely. My problem was that I bottled everything up ever since I was a child. Thinking about it, that is a very long time to keep things locked up.
As I began to let my guard down and open up, I began to feel happier more often. I was able to talk through my emotions and let them out that way, instead of self harming. I am now in the recovery process to end all self harming. It is a lot of work, but I am getting through it. While being in therapy, I have learned lots of alternatives to help get things out and avoid urges, like talking, writing, and deep breathing. Believe it or not, it helps so much.
I am not ashamed to tell people about my mental illnesses (because I do suffer with anxiety, PTSD, and Trichotillomania too). I think that by sharing my story with others, it can help them get the help they need. I want people to know they are never alone, they are loved, and they are SO worthy of life. So much so, I have decided to major in Psychology and Family Services in order to eventually become an Educational Psychologist. I believe it is so important for people to know they can trust someone and open up instead of keeping it all inside. Don't get me wrong, I still have a long way to go, but each day is one step closer to being happy and successful.
To those of you reading this who is or who has gone through similar things, please know that there is always hope, and there is always help available. Always. Please know that I believe in you, I love you, and I know you are worth it.
