There I sat as I was waiting for her to finish up my paperwork. My fingers we tapping uncontrollably on the desk near the keyboard of the psychiatrist.
"So, just to make things clear... Are you saying that I am clinically depressed?" I asked the psychiatrist.
She looked at me with one of the most emotionless faces I have ever seen on a person. It was comparable to a statue.
"From what I gathered from you today and the notes from your counselor, you do fit the description of depression."
I could not fully comprehend the information the psychiatrist was handing me about my antidepressant prescription because of how shocked I was. The past three weeks prior to the visit I had with the psychiatrist were the worst moments I have felt in a long time. Every night, I found myself out back behind my dorm hall, crying about something in the deepest and darkest parts of my mind. I would call my mother, sister, and friends, telling them that lately I was viewing the world in such a cynical and hopeless perspective, something completely opposite of my regular optimism. The darkness had always followed me, but it never began to completely shroud me until the beginning of my second semester at college.
I had a decent holiday vacation back in my hometown of Park City, Utah. Visited tons of family and friends, had a huge Christmas party, went skiing, and I was able to celebrate my birthday early with close friends and family before I flew back to college. I flew out the day of my birthday, which didn't really bother me as much as I thought it would. I took it as if it were any ordinary day. It wasn't until my second day on campus when something in my brain flipped.
Every day, as I mentioned before, I saw everything in a very pessimistic cloud. It was a shadow that covered everything good in my life. I was confused by this because I'm usually a very happy-go-lucky and positive person, but my mind kept showing me something to be sad or ashamed about. I did a self-evaluation during a midnight shift at work in the middle of syllabus week to see what was really going on in my head, and I cracked... feelings of self-hatred, despair, and worry flew through my thoughts in a swarm of negativity. I broke down in tears and I could not stop myself from crying for about an hour. This was the first crying spell I had in about three years. Every night since, I was sitting somewhere alone, crying until my tear ducts dried up. I talked about what was going on with a few people, and everyone mentioned that I should go back into counseling because I needed more than just emotional support from family and friends. I needed help. Fast. I began going to the counseling center on campus for about a couple weeks, explaining everything that was rushing through my head. After a few visits, I was diagnosed with depression and prescribed medication to cope with the melancholy that my brain was giving me.
After the diagnosis, I called up my mother to tell her the news. She was saddened, although she expected that answer. I had family history of depression and the truth about my depression was somewhat comforting, giving me an excuse as to why I was feeling crappy all of the time, but everything I was doing for myself wasn't enough. The crying spells got worse as they combined with my anxieties to give me panic attacks as a disturbing nightmare from my youth began to replay itself again in my brain. I had two major panic attacks in the course of a week and a half. The latter panic attack frightened me so much that I had to go to a crisis clinic to make sure that I was safe. This resulted from me in getting immediate and effective help, along with another diagnosis of my mental condition: clinical depression and anxiety. I went through nine days of treatment before I got back on my feet.
I learned more about my mental health, along with how to handle myself if I were to ever end up in a situation like that again. The psychiatrists and therapists I have been seeing declared me with these two mental disorders because they believe that there was a chemical imbalance in my brain that was associated with the suppressed negative thoughts to make me this way.
I have never thought that I would have something like depression. I was a part of the crowd of people who believed that depression was just when people were too pathetic to deal with their problems. Depression is a disease. There are many others like me I've realized, all feeling the same things that I have been feeling: sadness, unworthiness, hopelessness, emptiness. Not feeling like we should even be on this big blue ball called "Earth." I also learned while I was getting help that depression is truly a health issue. People of all kinds of backgrounds will go through periods of depression about once or twice in their lives, but if it persists, that can be a sign of a chemical imbalance inside the brain and result in major depressive disorder. I was not alone in my problem and I began to do research on my condition, learning more and more about myself and others like me. Everyone needs to know that depression is more than just feeling blue, like the myths and urban legends say. Depression is a mental health disorder, and it should be treated and respected like all other illnesses.
When people first meet me, they'll probably never notice that I have depression and anxiety. You would have never known that I walk this Earth every day, trying not to let my internal darkness overcome me again like it did last year. These two demons of mine do come out subtly, either in the form of my leg shaking while sitting or not getting up in the morning until 2 p.m.
I call myself a survivor because I almost let my depression and anxiety win. Without the support, help, and strength I have received from myself, my loved ones, and doctors, I probably would not be here telling you my story.
Depression and anxiety are invisible. They do not have distinctive markers or signs like most illnesses. Some people consider depression and anxiety to be "invisible disabilities" because they can impair people from doing things they love, and I've seen it happen with myself and others like me. I love hanging out with people, especially my friends and family, but there would be days where I could not even get out of bed, not because I was tired, but because deep inside, I felt that it was pointless to go be with people that cared about it. What? Why would I or other people with depression and anxiety feel this way? That's the point. Depression and anxiety have this power that makes people hate the things they love doing and later make them feel terrible about not doing the things they care about.
It's not "feeling blue" like most people would say. Depression makes people feel empty, hopeless, and without purpose. Anxiety keeps people in a constant state of worry that slows down their decision-making to the point where the time to make said decision is gone. It has been one year since I have felt that emptiness and that emptiness almost took my life away from me.
I thank God every day that I am alive now and that I was able to find the help I needed for my depression and anxiety. Am I still depressed and anxious? Of course, but I have learned how to cope. If you or someone you know has either or both depression and anxiety, be there to support them because it is a battle that cannot usually be seen with the naked eye. Just being there can make that person's life less of a burden than what they believe it is to be. And it's not. So, tell them they have reasons to live.
One thing that has always kept me from turning back to my darkness was a Bible verse I found last March.
"Those who sow with tears will reap songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will reap songs of joy, carrying sheaths with them." - Psalm 126:5-6
It made me learn that no matter how much I cried and thought that I should end it all here, there was joy to be found in the future. I believe I have found mine now, and yours is out there. Somewhere out there.
