I've been trying/intending to write this blog for so long that after I wrote my post about turning 25, I searched for a line I thought I'd written. It was nowhere to be found. It's a difficult subject to tackle, but that's exactly why I feel it's necessary to write a a little bit about my journey with depression. I often think of Dumbledore when I think of this subject; "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." We're afraid to bring up depression or any dark feelings we may have, but forcing them down inside us only gives them more power. So, it is my hope that I can bring some of my darkest thoughts into the light. Part of me has been afraid that this will cause more darkness, but I think that's just the fear talking. I know so many people who have struggled through this and have felt completely isolated because of it. This is for you. You're not alone. (Back away now if you're sensitive to people graphically talking about suicidal thoughts.)
I'm going to start by saying that I've never been diagnosed with depression or anxiety disorder. It's not difficult to figure out that if you frequently want to die you have depressive issues. It's not difficult to figure out that when you're getting stress headaches at the age of ten, you have anxiety issues. I'm no sort of expert, I'm simply sharing my experiences with you. A lot of these experiences have surely been referenced at other times throughout this blog, sorry if you are subjected to them multiple times.
I've always been sort of a misfit. I would hop friend group to friend group. I was always sort of the third wheel hanging out with a couple of best friends. I suppose lots of people liked me, but everyone seemed to have their own groups established that they would only sort of let me be apart of. Looking back, my friends in junior high and high school would invite me places and I would make up excuses, unable to find a way to express my introversion and need to spend time by myself. Heck, I didn't really understand it. I was a bit of a class clown and back then I was outgoing, so I didn't really understand that I was introverted. I assumed I was an extrovert because I was Chatterbox (my actual camp name) and loved to run off at the mouth. I think that's why teenagers are so anxiety: they're constantly battling not only everyone else's misconceptions, but their own misconceptions of themselves. I'm not sure that entirely goes away in your twenties, but you start to get a bit of a grasp on who you are and how you relate to others. In high school, I sort of remember thinking I wanted to be sad. It was like teenagers were supposed to be sad so I wanted to do that. And I did. I wrote sad poetry and imagined leaving town and my parent's house. I remember questioning why God would let the boy who sat next to me in my English class junior year die in a car accident. I remember wanting to be someone else. I don't ever remember it getting more serious than fairly typical teenage angst.
Almost as soon as I left high school, I started having problems. Everyone was asking me what I wanted to do and beyond, "I'm going to the JC," I had nothing to tell them. I wanted to learn some Italian so I could go to Italy, but I dropped my classes the first semester I enrolled before I set foot in them. I didn't feel motivated to be in school when I didn't know what I wanted to do with myself. Once I did go to school a year later, my anxiety was pretty awful. It was a struggle to be in class and to talk to other students, but more than anything it was a struggle to be called on. I specifically remember my English class and literally praying for strength to raise my hand and say something before she could call on me out of the blue. Even when I volunteered I would turn bright red. So much anxiety.
In 2009, things got really bad. I still had no idea what I wanted to do and I just imagined being stuck at Michael's and at home for the rest of my life. I constantly, actively wanted to die. I imagined slicing my body like meat with a sword. I imagined driving of a cliff. I imagined jumping off a cliff into the ocean. I imagined swallowing lots and lots of pills. I dropped all my classes that fall after sitting in a Spanish class and being unable to focus on anything because I was too busy imagining my body hanging from the rafters. I lived from big event to big adventure. I would tell myself that after my next Disneyland trip would be when I'd get to go. I drove myself on a trip for the first time that October and I'm not sure how I got home because I fully intended not to. I did make it home, though, obviously. I frequently prayed that Jesus would just end my life and let me be with him. I felt useless. Getting out of bed was the most tedious task. What possible reason was there for me to be on the earth? My view of myself and the people around me became so incredibly warped. I assumed none of my friends wanted me around, that they just let me be around out of some strange sense of obligation or convenience, because what could they possibly see in me? I was nobody. In thinking that, I became difficult to be around. I couldn't think of anything but my own uselessness so I was actually a really terrible friend. I'm so grateful to the friends who did stick around through all that. I drove to the beach a lot, never knowing if I would make it home, but the time I came closest to jumping, a family suddenly appeared next to me. I know Jesus was right there with me that whole time. It's hard to know that while knowing all the pain in my heart, but I know I wouldn't be here without him. Really, I was praying more than I ever had in my life and just breaking down in complete worship. It still hurt all the time, but when I thought I would break, He was always there next to me.
In February of 2010, my friend showed me a Charlie McDonnell video: Song About Love. I adored it, and proceed to watch all of his videos. I had no idea what video blogs were until that time. I started watching other vloggers through him, and came across Hank and John Green. In a way, it sort of saved my life. These men and the community they created taught me that it was okay to be myself. I'd spent so much time feeling like a misfit, I never really embraced the things that made me unique. I realised I had been sort of guarded to who I was and never fully allowed myself to enjoy certain things. That summer I led a bible study as well so I was spending a lot more time in the word, and also going out and having adventures with the girls in the group. I think it was sometime in the fall that I woke up and realised, "Whoa, I haven't thought about killing myself in a really long time. I think it's been a couple months." Nothing about my circumstances had changed very much if at all, I was simply embracing myself more, and immersing myself in the word. My darkest time was over.
I intended to talk about this up to about present day, but I think this blog is plenty long. I will say this: keep going. When you think you can't, keep going. Life may not necessarily get better but YOU can get better. And don't be afraid to talk about depression. Don't fear the word.
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