My Story
For the majority of my life, I struggled with feeling out of place and ungrounded. When I think of my high school years, I remember worrying perpetually, outbursts of utter sorrow, and no time to analyze who I was or who I was becoming. It was not fun.
When I came to college, this amplified tenfold. I was self-deprecating and lonely and clung to toxic relationships in order to make myself feel whole. Mid-fall quarter, this was made worse as I discovered my father was sickly and needed medical treatment.
It was at this time that I decided that I may need some outside intervention and sought out the help of the school counseling center. I met with a doctor who, to put it mildly, was the worst doctor to ever be a doctor. He told me that I needed to get out of my own head, that I was being overdramatic, and that, frankly, he did not understand why I was seeking counseling, as I did not need it.
Spinning Out
An important aspect of my personality is that I need to understand where I stand. This once again sent me loose, as I didn’t understand what was wrong with me and why I couldn’t be happy. I didn’t know this at the time, but I would later discover that I had suicidal ideation at this time. I did not actively want to kill myself, but in crossing the street, walking through campus at night, and driving around town, I was very aware that I could be killed in a savage accident. I could picture it as if it was real. And it haunted me.
I would later enter a romantic relationship that, in hindsight, was deeply detrimental to my mental well-being. Then, as it ended, the world crashed under me. I didn’t feel like I was smart enough to be at college, not nice enough to make any friends, not pretty enough to be loved, and not sane enough to find peace with my life (yet not struggling enough to warrant help.)
Rock Bottom
This all came to a head when Campus Safety had to be called and take me back to my room as I was walking with no direction across campus in the middle of the night, allowing no one to redirect me or change my mind. I decided to go back to therapy, because maybe, it would work.
Finding Help
That was the first step towards me getting better. I found an incredibly kind and understanding mental health professional who was able to talk me through a lot of the things that were plaguing my mind. She diagnosed me with depression and anxiety, validating the struggle I had been unable to name for so long. She put things in perspective and helped me to get a grasp on my own mind.
Later on in our time, I was deemed a good candidate for medication, and began taking anti-depressants. After a few trial and errors, I finally felt level headed once again. It was not perfect (as I don’t believe humans can achieve perfection outside of paradise), but I was able to view myself again as being worthy, capable, and grounded.
Why I’m Sharing
Since having found help for my struggles, I have been very open about my struggle with depression and anxiety and finding inner peace. I firmly believe that the stigma surrounding mental health in America is incredibly detrimental to our nation, as we should be able to talk about our experiences without shame and find help as easily as we find aid for our physical ailments.
And, I hope that by sharing my story, along with many other brave survivors who have shared their stories, we can make a difference to at least one person.