My Struggle With Depression

I am pretty open about a lot of things in my life. Mental illness however, is not one of them. It's not that I have a fear that people won't accept me for it, or I will be viewed as different, it is just something I see as very private. For a long time, I have seen mental illness as a personal struggle and not something that really needs to be talked about in a social setting. However, as I have read through some other people's accounts of living with depression, I am starting to realize that maybe by sharing my story, I could be helping someone else with their own.

I was diagnosed with depression during my sophomore year of high school. I was in the middle of switching friend groups, dealing with the struggle of expectations and unrealistic goals, and dealing with the emotions of a very mentally ill grandmother, and depressed friends and family. My therapist at the time (who was absolutely wonderful) was helping me to get a handle on it, when my grandmother unexpectedly passed away. That ws my trigger. I spiraled into serious clinical depression after that. It was only through the help of my therapist, and my new group of friends that I managed to get a semi-handle on it right before my junior year. Sophomore year was really hard for me. It's really hard to get good grades and turn all your work in on time when it is a struggle to even get out of bed. More weekends than I like to admit, I was useless. I slept all the time, and struggled to find the motivation to do anything with anyone. Anything that had brought me joy was suddenly just a cloud of darkness.

However, life got better, and I kept a secure handle on my depression until the end of my junior year. I was even able to stop going to therapy.

However, not all good things last. I still don't know what triggered it, but I fell back into that severe depressed state. I couldn't even be bothered to do my makeup or brush my hair a lot of days. Finally, I decided that I needed to make a change. I started trying a little harder. Even if it was just being up by noon on Saturday morning, or doing some mascara or my hair to go to school, I was trying. And let me tell you, it was exhausting. Just getting back to something that resembled a human being was incredibly difficult for me. I've never really asked my friends what they thought of me at that point in time, but I know it wasn't pretty.

The turning point for me was when we were asked to give 10-15 minute speeches (like Ted Talks) for my Advanced Placement English final. I bounced topics back and forth until I asked my amazing and supportive English teacher for his opinion on talking about the misconceptions of depression. He hesitantly agreed, and said he was interested to see how I would pull it off.

The day I was set to give my speech, I put in extra effort to be as put together as possible. I made sure I had full makeup on, I did my hair, and dressed as professionally as I could. All of my notecards were perfectly ordered, and I was ready. I had a game plan and I was going to stick to it.

I started out answering the questions that are asked the most, and then brought up statistics. I wanted to lose everyone a bit so I could close with a bang. My closing for my essay was...

"I can say with absolute certainty there is at least one person in this room with depression. Look around. It could be anyone. It could be a boy or a girl. It could be the person in front of you, next to you, or behind you. I’ll give you a hint. This person is me. I was diagnosed with clinical depression a little over a year ago."

In that exact moment, I saw the smug smile on my friends face, and everyone else's heads snapping back to look at me, and I knew I had accomplished what I had set out to do with my speech. It made my realize that not everyone defined me as the depressed person I felt like I was. For the first time in a long ime, I remember feeling hope. Suddenly I wasn't defined by my illness. I was my own person who just so happened to have a problem.

Now, I see a new therapist. She helps me to manage my depression, and even though she has diagnosed me with a couple of other things (anxiety and adjustment disorder) since then, I don't feel defined by it. It's not the big sad elephant in the room anymore, and anytime I start to feel it coming on, I remember giving that speech and everyone's reactions, and I am filled with hope.

There are still things left over from my periods of depression that I have to deal with. I'm not a very physically touchy person. I don't like people coming over and touching me or hugging me. I am okay if I was the instigator, but not if it was someone else's idea. I still sleep a lot. I am always tired no matter what. I can sleep until eleven or noon on Saturday's, but now it is a little easier to get up when I am told to. With the anxiety added in now, I have become a bit of a worrier no matter what the issue is. I can't help any of these things, and it still isn't fun to explain it to other's when I flinch out of a hug or ask them not to touch me, but I can live with it because I know I am getting better.

I still have trouble with the fact that no one else knows exactly how I feel or how to treat me when I get depressed. Even my family and closest friends are out of their element, and that can make it a little bit harder to deal with than usual. I always say that when I am depressed, my mental state and focus is a lot like trying to watch paint try. Painful, slow, boring, and you just end up giving up. That's what it feels like to me. However, in spite of all of this, I am not scared of it anymore.

I'm not scared to talk about my mental illness anymore because I won't let it define me. I am finally able to take control of my life. Even though I still have those difficult days or weeks, I know that I can get through it now.

-Lauren Hansen