I wake up and realize that I forgot to take my medicine last night. This isn’t the first time this has happened–in fact, it happens quite a bit, especially when I drink the night before. Normally I would get on with my day and begin to notice later on, my head eventually starting to feel dizzy and light and that annoying pang feeling in my eyes arriving every time I change the direction of my glance. But last night is the first time I’ve forgotten to take my medicine since switching over from 20 to 40 mg this past semester, and the minute I open my eyes, I instantly feel the repercussions. Despite feeling like complete crap, I crawl out of bed, gulp down the forgotten pill with a glass of water (knowing very well that it won’t kick in until at least five or six hours), and get ready for the day. I can’t concentrate throughout my classes because my head feels foggy, and when I go to the grocery store the bright lights and throngs of people make me feel like I’m about to pass out. I get in my car, drive home without trying to make too many quick glances around or else I’ll feel more lightheaded, cancel my plans for dinner with my roommate, and crawl back into bed until the morning.
I’ve had depression since I was fifteen. While I know that every teenager at the beginning of high school is destined to go through a rollercoaster of uncontrollable emotions, mine seemed to be hitting me a little too hard. While my friends were crying over boys or grades (and don’t get me wrong–I had my fair share of those tears as well), my sadness didn’t seem to always stem from something tangible like everyone else’s. Some mornings I would just wake up and feel like crying for absolutely no reason known to me. Since then, I’ve been on daily antidepressants. My doses vary between 20 and 40 mg depending on the circumstances going on in my life or even the season, but for seven years I’ve relied on those tiny white pills.
Having depression in college has definitely not defined my time here at JMU, but it has altered my experience. Take alcohol, for example. Because it’s already a depressant, it’s common to wake up the next morning and feel awful for the rest of the day, both emotionally and physically. But drinking excessively on antidepressants can make that emotional toll ten-fold, not to mention the consequence of forgetting to take your medicine after a night out. Having a hangover plus prescription withdrawal makes for a not great combo, and sometimes it’s hard to explain to friends why you have to cancel plans the next day without sounding over-dramatic over what might just seem like partying a little too hard the night before. I’ve had times where I’m still recovering mentally from a weekend of drinking a week later. My school work has also been affected by my depression. When I’m taking too high of a dosage, my head feels foggy and I can’t concentrate. When I’m on too low of a dosage, my emotions get the best of me and I still can’t concentrate on school work. This is the caveat of antidepressants: although they’re helpful in improving your mood, you take them at the risk of sometimes losing your creative spark or edge, and instead feel sleepy and out of it all the time. With the intense workload of college, the latter is definitely not ideal.
Seven years later since I was diagnosed with depression, I now know that so many more people suffer from depression than I originally realized. In high school, it was weird to talk about mental illnesses without feeling like an outsider. Now, as a twenty-two year old, I’m finally realizing just how common mental illnesses like depression and anxiety are, and how much more open people are to talk about them. The purpose of me writing this is not to make people feel sorry for me, because that’s silly. So many of my friends and peers deal with mental illnesses, some even worse than mine. The point is, however, to bring light to the fact that even though you may not always know it, everyone is going through something. Be kind, be caring, and be understanding to those around you.