When I was 19, I was a year ahead in university, active on multiple sports teams, running a painting company, and in a relationship. It was then I began my battle with depression.
At first, I believed I was just having a bad day and did not want to get up for work. I mean, who does?! Then, I thought maybe I was just having a tough week … then a tough month.
I later learned this was the beginning of my depression.
This was the start of my downward spiral, of which there seemed to be no end.
It was July when my depression began, but its causes date way farther back. It started with the smallest spark of worry – worry about my relationship, my company, my schooling, my friends, and so much more.
This slowly flared into stronger anxiety and stress about these things. I began avoiding increasingly larger obligations as the feelings intensified.
And so began my raging fight with my life, for my life.
I want to fast forward a little bit to September, when the fight was at its toughest. I was heading back to school, hoping and praying everything would just go back to normal on its own. I thought maybe if I just get back to my routine, everything would be fine. I remember intensely dreading the first day of school.
Soon I was sleeping through class as everything around me was falling apart.
Everything I had once done with ease was now difficult. Finding the motivation to do homework, to hang out with friends, to exercise – it all became a battle.
It wasn’t until October, but when I finally decided things were bad enough to ask for help I went to se a doctor for the first time. I walked into the office and with the same act I had been maintaining for the last few months – with fake confidence and charm – while slowly dying inside. In this office, I was finally able to admit I was not doing well. It was there I acknowledged I was struggling with depression.
However, the journey of recovery did not start there. In fact, things got far worse before they got better.
It was October 23rd when I hit my lowest moment; it was in this moment I truly thought I was going to take my own life. I was so tired of the battle; I was so tired of fighting. I remember sitting there, telling myself no one would care, no one would miss me. Lie, after lie, after lie streamed through my head and I began to believe them.
As the thoughts finally fell to, “this is the end”, something changed and I realized my words were lies, nowhere close to true: People will miss me, people do care, and there is hope.
This began a journey, one which included anti-depressant medication, counseling, and encouraging friends who helped carry me through. Depression, I learned, would be a battle I would wage for a whole year until I won my freedom.
The experience pushed me to the brink of death, but here I am today, still alive and able to share my story.
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