My name is Kaitlyn Marie Gibson. I love elephants, Disney, Harry Potter, the Patriots, movies, music, and so much more. I am also a spoonie.

"The Spoon Theory" was created in 2003 by Christine Miserandino, who grabbed a handful of spoons at a restaurant and used them to explain life with a disability or chronic illness. “Spoonies” are those who live with chronic illness, invisible illness, and other such disabilities. The theory explains that each activity done throughout the day—no matter how trivial—requires a spoon; many spoonies have a much smaller number of spoons than the average human. In other words, we only have so much energy for each day. For more information concerning the Spoon Theory, you can read Christine’s original blog post here.

Christine does an incredible job in explaining what life is like with an invisible illness. While mine is not parallel to her experience with lupus, I can relate.

I have struggled with depression since my sophomore year of high school. It runs in my family and it is something I’m all too familiar with. One of my best friends, Sydnie, knew from the very beginning that something was off about me. I was different. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to do anything. I was reserved, not as talkative, nor as fun as I had been in the past.

I wasn’t me.

I couldn’t explain it. It was like a switch had flipped and I couldn’t figure out how to undo it. But she was still there. She reached out. She cared. This meant more to me than she’ll ever know.

There have been many people in my life who have been there for me throughout this struggle. Unlike the common cold, depression stems from a lack of certain chemicals in my brain and it is not something one can simply recover from.

Getting help for depression and other such mental illnesses has been harder than most things I have ever done. It’s difficult because I don’t look sick. It’s time consuming, expensive, and exhausting. One time, a woman, who I assumed to be the receptionist for the doctor’s office, informed me that I would have to get a referral, and then send that referral to her. I would be sent paperwork to fill out, and then return that paperwork to them. They would evaluate it, send it to a social worker to determine if I’m going to the right doctor, and if my paperwork were to be approved I would then be put on a waiting list for 3-6 months or even 9-12 just to get an appointment. I started laughing and hung up.

On July 6th, 2016, I went to the doctor’s office to discuss some things. I ended up telling him about the panic attack I had at the humane society trying to buy a new puppy (his name is Oliver. I love him very much and he is adorable). My doctor looked at me and said, “Yeah, I can help with that.”

My depression and anxiety go hand-in-hand.

Now, as my senior year in college approaches, I realize just how much my depression has taken from me:

Energy

I put this first on the list because I believe it is the most important. I used to wake up in the mornings and not have a care in the world about getting out of bed—depends on the day really. If I wake up 10 minutes late and will probably be late for class? That’s nice. I’ll try again tomorrow. . . or not. There is never any guarantee that I will feel better tomorrow. My friend Rachel and I joke around about how I don’t get normal hangovers; I get social hangovers. I stayed out one night until 4a.m. after an event and woke up feeling like death the next day. This is how the spoon theory comes into play in my life: I get out of bed—spoon. Shower—spoon. Brush my teeth—spoon. Do something with my hair beyond twisting it and clipping it to the back of my head—spoon. Makeup?—spoon. Before I even make it to class, I have used a significant portion of my spoons for the day. Everything I do requires a spoon. Therefore, everything I do is carefully planned and considered.

Motivation

It’s very difficult to put into words how my depression can steal my motivation. Nothing matters. I failed a test? Oh well. Didn’t make it to class? I mean, I tried. Late? Story of my life. There is a symptom of depression called “brain fog.” Its many symptoms are similar to a learning disorder, including: poor concentration, difficulty learning new things, confusion, and an overall lack of mental clarity. Basically, living hell for a college student. This affects me most during class discussions and while writing papers, when I can’t find a word that’s on the tip of my tongue, or when I can’t seem to put my thoughts into words.

Friends

Friendship can be difficult and this stems from the energy and motivation aspects. It’s difficult for me to be fully immersed in a conversation, class discussion, events, or really anything that requires a lot of me. In high school when I took the Myers-Briggs personality test, I was an extrovert. When I took it four years later in college I had become an introvert. I have learned to tell my friends that when I go to my room and close the door, it’s not because I don't like them or don't want to hang out with them. It’s just one way I practice self—care. It’s not you, it’s me.

My dreams and my transcript

I had a plan. I was going to work my butt off to be an A and B student. I was going to make the dean’s list. I was going to do well. My depression, however, derailed this plan. I have sat in professors’ offices and listened to them ask forcefully why I wasn’t trying hard enough, why I wasn’t doing well in their class, why I wasn’t doing what they told me to do. Little did they know, I was doing everything I possibly could to do well in their classes. My depression had other plans, though. Behind it all is shame and disappointment. My professors deserved better and I do, too.

Emotions

For the past five years, I have felt a range of about four emotions: anxiety, elation, frustration, or nothing. Essentially, I felt numb. I was unable to really feel anything beyond these things. I didn’t list happiness because my moments of being “happy” were moments of elation more than anything. Soon after, I would go right back to the state of numbness. I would smile, I would laugh, I would do all the things expected of me in social situations without actually being present in the moment. In many ways, I am still working on this, but it is a wonderful thing to be able to feel and be present again.

My passions

I used to LOVE reading, and in college it became a chore. I used to love painting but it’s too stressful for me now. I am too much of a perfectionist. I used to like making jewelry. I can’t even tell you the last time I made some. I used to love playing music and being able to participate in the marching band. But I’m not that girl anymore.

Some days are better than others. I could go on and on and on about how my depression affects my everyday life, but that’s no fun.

If you stuck with me all the way to the end of this article, this is me giving you a virtual hug. Thank you.

In many ways, these words are an apology. An apology to the friends I have drifted from, the professors I have offended, and to myself. My depression is not an excuse but it is an explanation. At the end of the day, my depression is a part of me, but it does not define me. I will not let the stigma of mental illness hurt me, either. My depression will no longer get the best of me. I am not writing this for attention, pity, or anything like that. I am writing this because it needs to be said. More people need to know how depression can affect someone’s life. People who need help need to be able to ask, and they need to be heard.

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” -Albus Dumbledore, "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban"