We’ve all heard about depression: the big, scary, stigmatized word that seems to be synonymous with sad people. Perhaps, we’ve heard that it’s just being super bummed, or perhaps we’ve heard that it’s incurable. Whatever the case, I’m here to break those stereotypes wide open. As someone who has walked the battle of depression and is still here to fight many more battles, I’m a living, breathing representation of the pursuit of life.
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I’ve heard a lot of statements about happiness. I heard that if I could just smile, I could be happy. If I went to the right school, made the right decisions, and became the right person, I could achieve this goal, but this didn’t seem true for me. In my life, I experienced extreme happiness, extreme joy, and passion in some instances, but on the flip side of this I experienced extreme desperation. Much of my life was lived in this state, the state of being swallowed by a darkness I couldn’t seem to control; a darkness that I couldn’t seem to speak about to others. I had a lot of dreams for my life and I attempted to reach them, but every step felt like a marathon, every breath was an impossibility, and every smile a falsity. Finally, when I was 21, I made the terrifying decision to go to the doctor and ask questions. I had heard along the way that medicine was a cop out, that it was an easy way to “being happy.” But at this point in my life I didn’t even want to be happy, I just wanted to get through my days.
I remember the coldness of the chair in my doctor’s office, the anxiety that lived in my chest cavity that felt like it was swallowing me whole. I remember her kind face as she asked me questions and we talked. I filled out questionnaires and expressed what I went through on a daily basis. She diagnosed me with severe depression and anxiety. She told me that what I was experiencing was normal.
She told me about serotonin, a chemical in my brain that allowed me to feel happiness or lack thereof. She told me that when it’s functioning correctly, our brains would distribute it a little bit of it at a time on a daily basis. However, if it isn’t functioning correctly people can experience extreme loss or pain, and their brain will try to fix it by distributing all of their serotonin to fix that pain. This creates an extreme joy, followed by an extreme low because there’s no serotonin left until the body reproduces it. She told me that this is what was happening with my brain, and that it was okay, and that we could fix it. Anti-depressants are actually designed to fix this, to build a wall so that only a little serotonin at a time can be used, and leave some for bad days, balancing the system out. We decided I should be started on low medication to begin with and as needed we would progress and heighten the dosage, and that I would continue to see my counselor on a regular basis to walk out this journey.
I walked home in a shock that day. I was halfway home with my prescription in my bag like a secret when I started crying. I felt a visceral relief hit me. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t broken, I was just sick. I was sick and I could be fixed. My greatest fear was not that I was depressed, my greatest fear was that I was just irrevocably broken and there was nothing I could do about it. But that’s not true about me, and that’s not true of you.
For the last two years, I have walked a journey of harder days and lighter days. I would eventually heighten my dosage and I have been going strong on that dosage for a while. I’m now stable and discovering what life has to offer when a cloud of darkness doesn’t shroud my vision. I’ve hiked up mountains and I’ve cried in bed unable to leave it; it’s a process, and that’s okay. I’ve learned the power of love and the power of pursuing my own life even when it’s not always easy. But mostly I’ve learned that there is no shame in talking about these things. I’ve learned to kiss stigma goodbye, because it’s not worth my time.
Someone told me that it was okay to admit where I was at, and that it would take awhile to heal, but that it was okay to say that. I’ve come to realize that our darkest days aren’t so dark when we bring others beside us. We are only ever truly alone if we allow ourselves to be. It was through the help of my doctor, my counselor, my friends, my family, and myself that I have come to where I am. I live with depression and I’m okay, in fact it has shown me how to fight the hard, long fight. I will not give up. The risk is far too high. Whether your fight is a mental health disorder or something else, this is my prayer to you: Don’t. Give. Up.
If you or someone you know thinks they might be living with a mental health disorder talk to a doctor, a friend, a loved one. Things can only get better if you make it known.
*What the author has described about serotonin is not the only source of depression as this is the opinion of one doctor. Anti-depressants have helped the author, but that may not be the case for every individual. If you are having concerns about your mental health please speak with a mental health professional.*