The first week of 9th grade was like the beginning to any school year. I was trying to get back into the swing of things; I felt different, kind of awkward. I figured the feelings were typical back-to-school nerves.
Weeks went by, and this feeling just wouldn't go away. It actually got worse. When I came home from school, I just felt sad. As time progressed, it got to the point where I would start crying for no reason. Nothing would have happened, but I would start crying for hour-long periods. I didn't know why, I just knew I was sad. This happened every single day.
After roughly two weeks of these episodes, I brought it up to the counselor I had been seeing. Every session, I would really only say one thing, "I feel sad." It got to be annoying, even to myself. I tried so hard to put my feelings into words, but I just couldn't.
I started writing down the times I felt sad and a little of how I was feeling. Every week, I would bring them to my counselor. One of the entries read:
"8:55am. 9/20/10
I'm feeling sad, almost to the point of crying. I think if I were at home, I would've cried. Dreading this afternoon and my future."
The following week, we had a group session, meaning my Dad was in the room with my counselor and I. We all talked and expressed what we needed to and that was when my counselor said that I was dealing with Depression.
I had a hard time accepting that. I tried to deny it, but in the back of my head, I think I always knew Depression was a huge possibility. It's a serious thing, and I didn't want to be looked at like there was something wrong with me.
However, once I did realize and "accept" the fact that I had Depression, I started to rebel against the counseling process. I felt like I was getting ganged up on, but in reality, we all wanted the same thing: for me to be happy.
My counselor kept suggesting anti-depressants. I think they are a great thing for some people, and I'm not against them in any way. I just didn't feel like they were for me. Although I never wanted to admit it, there were times I actually thought about taking them because I was so desperate to be happy again. But I felt like it would be something I would decide, not something I would be forced to do.
A few weeks after her initial suggestion, my counselor entertained the idea of me seeing a psychiatrist, because they specialize in that field. It scared me because I knew that if he thought I needed medication, I'd get it no matter what I wanted. It was also nerve-wracking due to all the negative stigmas attached to their profession.
He went through a list and asked me probably 20 or so questions. Most of them were easy and I could just simply say "no". The last question he asked me was "Are you suicidal?" I froze. There were many times I had thought of suicide, but I had never tried to kill myself, or made a plan to do so, and since since my Dad was in his office with me, I didn't want to admit it, and I said "no". However, my counselor had told him things I had said to her, and he did make me talk about it. Once he realized I was only trying to explain how I felt, and not making a suicidal threat, he came to the conclusion that medication was not something I needed.
By January, I decided to quit counseling. I didn't feel like I was able to be helped. I had been depression for five months, and I now felt like I was kind of on my own. I had become very anti-social. I hated talking to really anyone and if my phone died, I wouldn't even think about charging it for weeks at a time.
I would always hear how kids and young adults committing suicide was becoming an epidemic, but I never thought I would be that kid. I never thought I would really want to die. But I did. And that's not something I openly would talk about.
March 3, 2011, I sat at the end of my bed, and I just felt so low. Worse than I ever had before. I felt like there was no reason for me to be on this earth anymore. I texted one of my friends at the time and said "I can't do this anymore." I honestly don't know why I reached out to her. I think maybe subconsciously I wanted help. She wasn't clear on what I meant, and I said "I want to take a gun to my head. I can't do this anymore, I want out." She begged me not to do it, and I sat there and cried for at least an hour, debating what I was going to do. I finally promised her I wouldn't.
After that night, I prayed every single day that I would be happy again. That was the only thing I wanted. Things slowly started to get better. But again, this was a process.
I began being very dependent on people. If my mood was down, I expected them to know how to make it better. If my mood was up, I expected them to make sure it stayed there. I also wasn't choosing who I surrounded myself with very carefully.
At one point, I was feeling down and I was hanging out with someone who definitely didn't have a positive affect on me. There was about a 2 week period that I had thought about cutting myself. When I brought it up to this person, their response was "me too!" And we talked about it like it was "cool." I was always too scared of the pain to actually do it, and one night I had a dream that I cut myself all the way up my arm and it hurt so bad and I was taken to the hospital. The thought never occurred to me again.
I eventually got to be too much for people to deal with, and that's when I looked to God more than ever. I started praying a lot. I prayed for strength, and that I wouldn't be miserable forever. Little by little, I started gaining back control of my life. I apologized to the people I had hurt, and realized I had to also show them I meant I was sorry.
I was so insecure with myself. If people were laughing around me, I felt like they were talking about me. I became extremely hard on myself, and I would wallow in my own self-pity. My insecurities got the best of me.
I started to rely more on myself, and I adjusted my focus. That was the BEST thing I did. Instead of worrying about things that didn't matter right now, I focused on what did. Who I love, what's truly important and I focused on the now. Now the "20 years from now".
I learned to let God take care of my worries. If God brings you to it, he will bring you through it. I put my trust in him. I was truly happy again not long after that.
It was a scary 8 months. I wouldn't wish Depression on ANYONE. It was constant misery every single day. But, I wouldn't be where I am today without experiencing this. Overcoming Depression has made me realize SO much. I don't take things for granted. You need bad days to appreciate the good ones. Appreciate the people who love you and think the world of you, because they won't always be here.
I've realized I can do anything I set my mind to! I've accomplished so much in the past 3 years that before my Freshman year, I would have never imagined I could! NEVER give up!
Prayers&Positivity
Becka
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