Before I found myself writing this piece, I had simply been existing in a body. It’s almost as if the sun refused to shine on me while everyone around me seemed to be radiating with nothing but exuberance. I somehow built immunity towards that sort of contagiousness. However, I chose to deny. Denial was all that I’d ever known for the last two years. I could feel a hole inside me slowly devouring my soul as I continued to live in denial. I knew my life had turned around for the worst.
Morning came and I was glued to my bed. All I could think of was for the day to end. However, this only made me feel worse as time ticked by in a much slower pace. I had scheduled all of my classes towards the end of the day so that I didn’t have to deal with the sunlight. I had also been developing some rather irritating health issues which only worsened my symptoms. Optimistic thinking and motivation were almost non-existent in my mind. My friends would make plans with me and all I could think of was going home and watching movies. I know a lot of us enjoy such an activity at home when we are by ourselves. However, in my case, this was the only activity that helped me feel a sense of satisfaction. It was a feeling similar to binge-eating. I would lie down and stare at the wall questioning myself, “Who am I?” I knew I wasn’t the same person I had been before. It was as if a different entity has resided within me. I felt unloved, despite having the best parents and supportive friends. During my withdrawal, I lost count on the number of friends I’d broken my friendships with. I needed to learn how to keep friends. I knew what was happening to me but still, I continued living in denial. After many days of hiding myself in my dark lit bedroom, I decided to go to school. I had been skipping classes a lot. Nevertheless, I dedicated myself to attend one of the classes. I had chosen that class specifically because it triggered my interest. I sat in the first row with nobody next to me since I had established myself as an aloof, quiet and shy person in the class.
Professor Balis was taking the attendance when she suddenly called out on me. With a concerned look, she asked me to stay after class in a tad stern voice. She wanted to speak with me and I immediately guessed it was about my extensive absences. Later, she turned to me and asked me, “Are you okay?” As soon as she spoke those words, I could no longer fight back the tears and feelings I’d built up for two years. I cried in her arms because nobody had really asked me if I was okay. She knew exactly what I’d been going through. I had been suffering from depression. I opened up to her as tears rolled down my cheeks. She ensured me that everything will be fine as there is help. She shared a story of her own struggle with depression with me. Of course, that happened years ago to her. I realized that I hadn’t been able to ask for help due to me denying that I was going through depression. My parents didn’t believe in such things as “depression” so opening up to them about it was hard. Professor Balis quickly ushered me to make an appointment in the John Jay Wellness Center and I did. I went home and had a talk with my mom. We got into a heated argument as she yelled on top of her voice, claiming on how my parents were working so hard to provide me with everything and yet I’m “depressed”. I locked myself in my room and called it a day.
The next morning, I woke up feeling rejuvenated. My mother sat on the end of my bed and said that she was sorry. She tried to understand since she has always been a strong lady. She fed me with words of love, support, and encouragement. That alone was enough for me. Our bond only grew stronger. Now, after going through treatment, I am finally able to say that I am free. Free from depression. I am now a motivated student continuing to pursue my dreams with determination and hard work. This is my story.
