The first thing that happens when you realize you have depression is immediate denial. If you are like me, you will make as many excuses as humanly possible in order to avoid confronting the issue (I do this with everything, not just depression.) You will believe these excuses until you have dug a hole so deep that it is impossible to get out.
After a while, you look at how deep the hole is, and then you look at the surface of the hole, and tell yourself it is completely impossible to make it to the top again. You give up without even trying. As you keep digging your hole, you start skipping classes. You tell lies to people you love. You stay in bed for days because you can’t even conjure the energy to shower.
You end up not caring about anything. The numbness you feel cannot be compared to anything you’ve ever felt before. You stop doing things you used to enjoy because doing them isn’t stimulating enough anymore; honestly nothing is stimulating enough, which is why many people suffering from depression have substance abuse issues.
You isolate yourself from basic human contact. Most of the time you don’t even realize you are doing any of these things. You are unaware of yourself and the inexplicable harm you are causing yourself and people who care for you.
The most important thing that people need to realize is not everyone who suffers from depression is suicidal or has self-harm issues. However, for me, suicidal thoughts were almost a daily occurrence, and the single reason I decided to get help.
Going to a therapist for the first time in my life was very surreal. I sat in the waiting room and almost got up and walked out. It is very difficult for me to admit to myself that I am falling, even when there is strong evidence showing that I am.
When they called my name, it took all the courage I could muster to stand up and look the lady, who ended up being my therapist, in the eyes. I smiled and said, “Hi” and then continued to sob uncontrollably.
The lady took my hand and walked me to her office. It was a cute room filled with minimalistic artwork and self-help books. She handed me a box of tissues and made me a cup of tea. (Tea is a magical thing that can make any situation better.)
After I had calmed down, she asked me a series of questions about my life in general; careful not to approach a topic that might upset me again. She gave me a journal, a few printouts about coping with anxiety, and a list of different ways to meditate. She had me set up a few appointments, and then I was on my way.
After going to therapy for several weeks, I felt a little more confident in myself, had a better understanding of my behavior and depression in general. The changes were so gradual that I didn’t even notice a difference, but people around me definitely did.
The most significant change that occurred during my battle with depression was my artwork. As an art major, art obviously has a large impact on my day-to-day life. When my depression was at its worst, I found it almost impossible to create anything worth a second glance.
The lack of creativity was a horrible experience. Physically and mentally not being able to do something I loved and enjoyed was devastating. After I had made progress, it was easier for me to write ideas down, work in my journal, and at least start major projects. I still have a very long road of recovery ahead of me, but I am incredibly optimistic about it.
Depression sucks. It’s a constant battle inside your head, and it is extremely exhausting. But it does get better, even if it seems or feels impossible. However, it might take awhile for you to realize you need assistance.
It is okay to ask for help. You shouldn’t have to be the only person willing to save yourself, especially when half of you is begging for some sort of end.
