Today, I
drove myself to a doctor’s appointment fifteen minutes away from campus so that I
wouldn’t be seen by anyone I knew. When I left my apartment, I didn’t tell my
roommates where I was going, I simply called out, “see y’all later!” When I walked inside the office, it was
decorated like a home and smelled like sugar cookies. It was warm and
comfortable, but all the other patients looked like they felt out of place. I
sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes until the closed door opened and a
woman called my name. I followed her to a corner room and sat on a brown
leather couch. We exchanged pleasantries and she started asking me lots of
questions.
Today, I
told a complete stranger about my past, my family, friends, school life, work
life, love life, church life, and everything in between. She asked me prying
questions and I willingly offered her answers. For once, I held nothing back. I
cried openly and didn’t apologize.
Today, I
went to counseling for the first time.
Today, I acknowledged to a professional that I am depressed and need
help.
If you took
one look at my Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter, you would never guess in a
million years that I am currently battling depression. You would look at the
glossy pictures and sarcastic posts and think I was having the time of my life.
To a certain extent, I am, but behind the squinty eyes and big smiles, there’s so
much more going on. That’s the scary thing about depression. If I didn’t tell
you, you wouldn’t know.
When I
reflect on my high school self, I’ve had spouts of depression before, but I
always linked them to PMS. But now? This is different. This is negatively
affecting every area of my life. The initial decline started when my sister
moved to DC at the end of July, but the intensity of it all didn’t start
taking over until a month and a half ago.
At first I
was only emotional and I thought I was just being a girl, but the feelings
never went away. They are constantly hanging over me and dragging me down. I go
to class, work, and hang out with friends, but any chance I get I cry behind
closed doors.
Soon after
my daily crying started, my whole life felt like it was going downhill and texts to my Little saying, "I feel like I might fall apart" became more frequent. I lost
interest in activities that I claim as my favorite past times. I no longer want
to attend sorority events; so much so I had to go inactive for the rest of the semester. I don’t want to hit the gym and kill a workout.
Cooking seems like a chore. I force myself to hang out with friends. Getting
out of bed is the hardest decision I am faced with every morning.
I sleep more now than I ever did before. I
get close to 8-9 hours of sleep every night and when I come home from my day, I
nap for another 2 or 3. Eating makes me sick. I get agitated more easily. I
have a hard time focusing and concentrating on one task at a time. The list
goes on and on.
What sent
me overboard and made me come to terms with how bad things have gotten is when
I went to visit a dear friend in her college town. I thought I needed a break
from my own town and surroundings so I figured a weekend away with someone
who’s known me for years and has seen my growth and change since high school
would be good for me. The weekend was as fab as I had hoped and spending time
with her made me feel full, but as soon as I hopped on the interstate home, I
felt empty again.
I got on
the phone with my sister and was completely annoyed with her. She asked me what
was wrong and I went with the standard, “nothing,” a minute of silence passed
and I bursted into tears. I didn’t know why I was crying and I told her that.
More silence. Then I remembered an article read I the week prior and said out
loud for the first time, “I think I might be depressed.”
When I got
home, I called my mom and told her about my epiphany. We hung up and an hour
later she called me back to tell me she pulled a few strings. That night, I
talked to a therapist on the phone and we agreed I would start counseling.
And that is
how I ended up on the brown leather couch today. I am now indefinitely committed
to seeing a therapist once a week and I’m actually looking forward to it. I am not
on meds, nor do I have any desire to be, but if the day comes when counseling
can no longer help me and get me better, then I will accept that help.
With all that being said, I am not looking
for sympathy. I simply want to share my
story because I don’t want to hide or pretend anymore. Depression is a real
thing that consumes so many people, but I am not going to let it win. I am not
going to let it define me or take over my life.
Today, I
started my journey to better mental health.
