When I first came to UCF in the spring of 2015, I was ready to make memories. After taking a semester at a local college back home, I was excited to come to Orlando, all of 3 and a half hours away from comfort. A whole new town with a whole new school and thousands of potential friends. I was optimistic and willing to make the best of it, make as many friends as I could and try to be active in campus life. What I didn’t expect was the social inhibitor that would either keep me in bed, or keep me wishing that I could be in bed shut out from the world: depression. I was never diagnosed with depression, and while I went to therapy in high school for an incident with self-harm (that’s when all of this really started), I had never really received any type of treatment for whatever it is that I struggle with, or received any conclusive result or diagnosis. There has always been a part of me though that just knows what it is, that pit inside of me that stands gaping open, wanting to close up but without knowing how.
So upon first arriving to UCF, I attempted to push that deep internal feeling of hopelessness aside and open my arms to the wonders of UCF and college life. I made new friends, made friends of friends, and had my fair share of heartbreaks and just plain ole’ fun (but we won’t get into that… sorry mom). My roommate at the time introduced me to college parties, late night Taco Bell runs, and Disney. Boy did I love the Taco Bell part. I didn’t realize until later in the semester though, that I wasn’t truly enjoying any of the things we did, or the adventures we would go on. There was an inexplicable feeling in my stomach that seemed to be pulling me to my bed, curled up with the lights off. I didn’t know why and that made me feel even worse. I just wanted to feel normal.
When fall came around, I thought things would be different. I experienced college football games for the first time with the expectations that I would have the time of my life, only to be thwarted with my reality. I became a walking, talking doll—lifeless inside with a smile painted on my face. I didn’t really know why I felt this way, just that I couldn’t help it. It weighed me down everywhere I went. When I tried to ignore it, it reared its ugly head and sent me spiraling down. I tried to push it away and toughen up. I went to campus events, interacted with my friends, and accepted invites to hang out, just to convince them, and myself that I was fine. I was just being dramatic, right? Wrong. Drinking became my outlet. I would go out just to have the opportunity to drink. I drank heavily as many times as I could and ended up in a worse state than before, but I couldn’t stop; I didn’t want to stop. My grades slowly dropped, I didn’t go to class, and I attempted to compensate my feelings of loneliness with food. I overate and gained at least 20 pounds. I knew I wasn’t OK. So I turned to self-harm…again. But I couldn’t tell my parents, or really anyone except for a close friend. Eventually I stopped trying to fight it. I started giving excuses for why I couldn’t hang out with friends and after a few weeks, I didn’t even bother with excuses, so the invitations would slowly stop coming. I didn’t leave my room for three weeks except to go to class and work. I was trapped, held hostage by this uncontrollable monster inside my head.
I couldn’t escape myself.
Toward the end of fall semester I completely broke down. I called a friend at 3 in the morning after drinking heavily to come and keep me company. She tried to convince me to take the next step and call CAPS, the Counseling and Psychological Services offered here at UCF, free of charge to all UCF students. I was hesitant at first, thinking they couldn’t help me, or really that I didn’t need help, I would just get through it. But I knew I couldn’t hide from it. The feeling of hopelessness and self-hatred for allowing myself to fall victim of whatever this was swallowed me whole. I wanted to be home, and when I was home, I wanted to be anywhere but home.
So finally, in the spring of 2016 I mustered up the courage and made an appointment with CAPS. I’ll be honest, I was scared as hell. I didn’t know what the outcome would be and I definitely didn’t want to start taking medication, but I went anyway. My therapist talked through my emotions with me and helped me mold what I was feeling into a shape, allowing me to center it so that I know where its coming from and how it affects my mind and the rest of my body. It was so relieving to finally be able to talk through those feelings that were weighing me down without any form of judgement or pity. I still never got any kind of diagnosis but I’m not done with my sessions. I still have a long way to go before I am fully capable of living with this depression. I still struggle with being a part of campus life and living out the “typical” college life, but I now realize that my college experience doesn’t need to be like the rest. It will be what I make of it, and if that means missing a few events to be with myself and get better, then so be it. I am working toward a stronger and better me.
If this process and these feelings have taught me anything, it’s that suppressing those emotions will only make things worse. Acknowledging them when they are present is the first step on the path to getting better. While my experience is different than other experiences (not everyone’s depression is the same), I know that there are thousands of other people, college students to be specific, that are going through this as well. According to the American Psychological Association depression—alongside anxiety— is one of the most common mental health issues among college students in America. It is a serious problem that can’t go unnoticed. If you are ever having these feelings of depression—whether it be exhaustion, lack of appetite, over eating, hopelessness or the like—please, please don’t hesitate to talk to someone and seek help. It was the best decision I’ve made in a long time and it has already helped me so much even though I still have a ways to go. Campus life is important, but our mental health is more important. If you ever feel like you’re a lone, I promise you, you are definitely, most certainly, without a doubt, not alone. You will always have a fellow knight, and friend here to help you along the way. :)
Photo credit: lonely-unicorn.tumblr.com, patch.com