My Story

I began my journey through depression many years ago with very little understanding of what was happening to me. I remember walking across the main quad on campus in November of my freshman year, thinking in desperation that I was either going to go to the University Health Services for help or go find some pills, not knowing which one I would choose. Fate put one of my orientation counsellors in my path. She saw through my mask of silence, sat down with me, shared her story, and helped me reach out just enough to make that day and the ones after a little easier.

For years, I felt embarrassed about that encounter. I was 17, full of potential, at a top university. I had an easy transition into college; I couldn't wait to be there and had all sorts of dreams for the future. I was doing well in school and had some friends. I had issues but nothing that I felt justified the intensity of my despair. I fought alone with these feelings all year, and eventually they lifted and life became easier again.

Eight years later I learned there was a name for what I had experienced: Clinical Depression (or Major Depressive Disorder). Of course, I learned that the hard way. I had been student teaching. The stress of the situations I was put in was too much for a body prone to depression. As the semester wore of, I became more and more anxious. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to do from one day to the next. My cooperating teacher thought that I just didn't care enough or wasn't trying, when instead student teaching was all I thought about.

I went home for winter break with two weeks of lessons to plan for. I couldn't string two coherent thoughts together when I tried to work on them. I finally got diagnosed with Depression and learned that there was a word for what was happening to me. I read some about it, but the words didn't seem real. They weren't real until the day I got back to school and found that no matter how much I wanted to, my body just couldn't finish student teaching. It was another six months before I had the abililty to work full time again.

Five years ago was the start of my latest episode of depression, which is still present today. This time I finally had enough support and community to understand what was happening, to not be embarrassed by it, to know that it was not my fault but that of my biochemistry, and to meet others who had shared my experiences.

Five years later, meds have helped relieve the worst of the symptoms but still won't lift the entire cloud of depression. Some days I feel hope, and other days I feel blackness. Some days I feel my life has promise, and other days I like I add no value to the world. Some days I get out of bed looking forward to the day, and others I desperately want to cancel everything I'm supposed to do that day so I don't have to move because it all seems so hard. I've gained skills to make the hard days easier, and I've reorganized my life to make the tough times less stressful. I still take one day at a time, but the days feel more meaningful and less long.

My experiences have changed my life, both for better and for worse. I've lost a lot due to depression - jobs, my teaching certification, friendships. I've also gained a lot - deeper friendships, more compassion for myself and others affected by mental illness, new perspective on what's important in life, and the opportunity to give back to others on this path.

I hope "Through the Mist" will help at least one person to feel less alone and one friend or family member to be better able to reach out to someone in need.