Depression. Ten letters, three syllables, and vast amounts of stigma. As many as one in every eight adolescents have clinical depression*, a number that’s on the rise. However, that’s just with clinical depression; the thing most people know about, that people take medication to assist with, and something you may have to live with for the rest of your life. I don’t have depression, but I’ve been depressed and I’ve gone through a stage in my life where I was in a depression.
I’m sure we all have those days where we wake up and before our eyes even open we feel the impending stress of the day we have ahead of us. We may even all go through phases where we just don’t feel like we can connect with our friends. This is what I felt at this time last year. I knew rationally that I could get my tasks for the day done, but it didn’t feel that way. I knew rationally that my friends were still there and they cared about me, but it didn’t feel that way. I felt trapped and unable to escape when there wasn’t even anything to escape from. I got to the point where I felt like there was a rock in my chest from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep again. You know when you’re at a concert and you’re standing too close to the speakers and they reverberate through your body, focusing on your rib cage? I spent weeks constantly walking around with this feeling, along with the strange but ever present desire to cry. I did know that something was wrong, I just didn’t know what.
One day, in between classes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought that if I just let go, just let myself cry in the bathroom stall for a few minutes, I would feel better. Boy, was I wrong. The tears wouldn’t stop, my flood gates were open, and I had no chance of closing them. I had to skip class, because I couldn’t stop bawling my eyes out. I may not have known what was going on, but I now knew that I needed help.
I emailed an advisor and some close friends. I knew I just had to open up to let help in. I’ve never done anything harder in my life than trying to formulate an email to my mother, explaining to her how unhappy and confused I was. I met with my advisor on a regular basis and even tried to see a psychologist. Most importantly, I tried to accept and put into words what was going on. I got better, but not on my own. Telling my friends, those who had been next to me during the whole process without realising that there was anything wrong with me, was incredibly difficult. Ultimately, however, it was what made me start to feel better. A burden shared is a burden lessened.
Eventually, I got better. I changed the situation that I was in. I moved on and was able to move past it. I still feel strange talking about it, and not all of my friends know what happened to me, how lost I was when I was right there with them. It wasn’t until I was talking with a friend from home, someone who had listened to me cry about the experience, that I was really able to put it into words. “I was really really anxious all the time. And… I guess I was a little depressed.” I was ashamed to admit it, to use the word depression. “Well, yeah. I thought you already knew that,” was my friend’s response. I tried to explain how I didn’t feel like I could claim that word, that what happened to me wasn’t real depression. It wasn’t a word I could just say. My friend helped me talk through how it was depression; it just wasn’t permanent. I now understand I had been too worried to use such a powerful word to describe my situation even though that’s exactly what was going on.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, a depression can be small. Believe me, it will feel massive and all encompassing when it happens, but in the end it might turn out not to be. That doesn’t make it any less serious, or any less of a health issue just because it can end. And thankfully for me, it did end, because I did my best to address the causes and I talked about it. Being able to be honest with those I love, painful though it was, was what helped me the most.
If you ever feel this way, know you’re not alone. Know that you can open up, even if you can’t explain exactly what’s happening. Just having someone who will listen and be there can help so much, whether that be a friend or a professional. Try to talk about it, test out how it feels to say the d word, accept what’s going on, and try try try to move past it.
* https://secure2.convio.net/dabsa/site/SPageServer/?pagename=education_statistics_depression