In social media, I've alluded to the fact that I have dealt with major depression. I've been open about my feelings when they've been included in other posts and thoughts, but I've never really shared the whole story.
A friend recently opened her heart to share her experience with postpartum depression on Facebook, and it really touched me. Although mine has nothing to do I felt inspired to share my experience. In full.
But I can't do this without a couple disclaimers.
Please don't just feel sorry for me. That's not why I'm sharing. I'm not looking for pity! Just understanding, for my sake but especially for so many other people who are suffering now.
I realize that many who follow my writing are minors (teenagers). While I'm not going to share anything that is incredibly inappropriate, if your child is actively involved in social media, they are going to see and read some things that are unpleasant and maybe even disturbing. If you have deemed them mature enough to read difficult material, then I hope they read it and can learn. But if not, I'm sorry they are permitted to have free reign of the internet. However, this is a story of hope if you follow it all the way through.
If you ever come to me and share your personal experiences or stories, please know that I will never, ever share what you say in confidence without your express consent. I understand that many of us need time and healing to be open about our deep problems and troubles. You can trust me to be quiet should you want to have a private conversation.
I am not a professional. This is just my experience. If you are in serious need and are struggling in the depths of mental illness, I pray that I can offer you love, comfort, and hope. But I strongly encourage seeking professional attention or a counselor to give you the tools you need to succeed and make progress as an individual.
Alright.
Though it was surely not the first time I ever felt majorly depressed, a simple story describes how I came to realize that something in my thoughts, feelings, and behavior was off.
It was my first semester at BYU-Idaho. The winter was cold. Really, really, really cold. There were record low temperatures in the area of -25' Fahrenheit for a few days and even weeks at a time. If things soared near the line above freezing, it was an absolute miracle. But I was happy to be there. I took on a load of 15 credit hours of college coursework. I decided that going to college would mean turning over a completely new leaf, and my classes started at 7:45 and 8:00 AM, depending on the day. Those of you who know me well will understand this was a mistake. Early mornings are not exactly my figurative cup of tea. I had a wonderful ward and great roommates and friends. Although I didn't have any family close-by, I talked to my parents often and felt close to them. And to be honest, I actually really enjoyed being so far away from everything and everyone I had known. It was nice to create new friendships and introduce myself to people who had no idea what I was like. It was an opportunity to reinvent myself the way I wanted to be. I liked that.
I was away from home and family, it was cold and dark, I felt the stresses which are normal to any new college student, but I was glad to be there. There wasn't any particularly unusual circumstance that ought to have caused me to feel anything less than happy.
On one particular Sunday evening, I remember standing in a group of ward members who were planning to do something together. I quickly realized that there was something going on I thought I was invited to join, but the individuals planning the event had no intention of including me. We've all been there! You hear about what's going on, ask some normal questions about it, and the others avoid eye contact and ignore you because you aren't invited. It certainly doesn't feel good when that happens, but it's nothing all of us haven't felt and eventually overcome.
However, after that event occurred, I couldn't shake a dark feeling of rejection and loneliness for the rest of the night. When I was finally alone in my bedroom (my roommate wasn't home yet), I wept. I knelt in prayer as I typically did before going to sleep, and I sobbed. I was shaking. Incredibly dark and intense feelings of loneliness, despair, and hopelessness absolutely overwhelmed every fiber of my body. It was as if light was leaving me with each pleading word I directed toward heaven. The more I opened up to my Father about my troubles and feelings, the more shame and upset I felt in my heart. It was inescapable. I didn't know what was happening. And I definitely didn't know what to do about it. So I thought it was my fault. There must have been something wrong about me as a person that made me unworthy or undeserving of attention or inclusion by those around me.
When I woke up the next morning, that feeling of awful gloom had persisted through the night.
I still went to class.
I attended the University Devotional.
I spent time with my roommates.
I called my family.
I read my scriptures.
I prayed.
But it didn't change.
In all of this, the one thing I wasn't doing was considering the possibility that it was completely within my control to change and feel happy.
By the end of that week, I knew that I wanted relief from these feelings, and I didn't really know where else to turn. It was by chance that I happened to see an advertisement for the student counseling center on the school webpage. After reading some basic information, I decided it was worth a try to see someone trustworthy who I could talk to about what I was feeling.
At the time, I didn't realize exactly how things work in a professional counseling setting. My only previous experience with something like counseling was with my parents, an excellent bishop, and a few youth leaders. But I was very insistent on seeing someone that day (a Friday). I didn't quite understand, but I was scheduled to meet with someone as an emergency/crisis client. I'll be honest. I came out of that appointment feeling a bit traumatized. Due to the nature of the meeting, the psychologist asked me questions like,
"Are you currently experiencing thoughts of suicide?"
"Have you intentionally inflicted physical harm on yourself?"
"Do you feel impulsive or out of control?"
"Are you currently a real danger to yourself or others?"
Ummm... I don't think so?! Am I?? Have I done that?? Do I feel out of control?? Am I worse off right now than I think??
I was placed on a waiting list and told that I would be offered another appointment time when it became available.
I decided to go visit family in Utah that weekend, in the hopes that maybe I would be able to tell someone about what I was feeling. But the opportunity never really perfectly presented itself, and I lacked the assertiveness to make it happen.
So I went on my merry way, kind of forgot and ignored what I was going to do to feel better after those days of really intense darkness, and I continued to push my way (with great difficulty) through my first semester of college.
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