I am open about my mental illnesses. I want others to feel as though they are not alone whenever I click submit on yet another article about my struggles with depression and anxiety. I have officially been diagnosed with depression and anxiety for a year and would like to believe that I am better. That I have recovered. But college has shown me that this is simply not the case.

I began college in a haze of depression. A lot of things had just ended for me: a relationship, friendships as we left for college, and the inherent comfort of home. I was not myself as I moved into my dorm room and began to meet the people I would live with for the next year I put on a brave face. I did not want my depression and anxiety to define me. I did not want it to follow me to college. I believed that I could make this happen, and for much of my freshman year of college, I was able to put my mental illnesses on the backburner and simply enjoy this grand new adventure.

I went out on Saturdays without a care in the world. I talked to strangers in my classes. I spoke up in class while surrounded by juniors and seniors. I would never have done those things when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. They would have stopped me from going out and enjoying myself or meeting new people. I truly believed that I was better.

But as my year progressed I felt the familiar crushing feeling that accompanies my depression seep back into my bones. I did not want to get out of bed in the morning, and no, I was not simply tired. I did not think it was worth it. I began to think about self-harm and suicidal ideations again, something I never thought I would have to deal with again.

This does not go to say that I am not enjoying myself at college. I have met my person here. I have found my place. But depression never truly goes away. And that is something that I did not let myself accept until I was at the lowest of my lows for the second time in my life. When I could barely hold myself up in the shower, or when food did not seem worth the walk to the cafeteria.

Luckily I was not alone at this low point. I had my best friend to lean on, and she graciously answered every desperate text with a comforting answer. The solution to handling depression in college is not set in stone. There is no cookie-cutter pattern to follow. But being open about it to those who mean the most to you will help you get through each and every day. I'm not saying it is easy. Bad days have been piling up for me, but talking about it and discussing it with my closest friends has helped me survive depression in college.

And I will forever be grateful for the people who have listened to me and held me through my darkest times. Because I do not know where I would be without them.