A Deep Dive into Depression: My story
When I was in high school, I lost three months of my life.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There are pieces here and there—flashes of a movie, my parents’ faces, the way the light warped at the edges of my vision. But mostly, it’s a blank.
The strangest part is that—from an outside perspective—nothing really happened. There was no accident or illness or trauma. Instead, I experienced my first and most significant major depressive episode. This is the story of the time depression took over.
How it started
In high school, I saw myself as a nerd. I was obsessed with getting the best grades possible in my classes. And for the most part, I did.
My life was great. I was lucky to be surrounded by a great group of friends, and though they didn’t share my love for Star Wars and all things Sci-Fi, we supported each other through our studies. I was close to my parents, and my sister and I only occasionally bickered. Things were good.
Then I started to slip. I started to feel like a stranger in my life, like an alien to everyone I knew. I became convinced I didn’t belong anywhere. I withdrew and became quieter. I would watch conversations like a stranger.
I started to have more trouble getting up in the morning. I put my alarm clock across the room, but my sleepwalking self was able to turn it off without me ever knowing. My dad was frustrated that I couldn’t get myself up. In the meantime, I stayed up later and later, often up until the early hours of the morning watching Netflix or YouTube.
My anxiety got worse. It had always been there, but now it was intolerable. I could hardly stand going out anywhere other than school. Then it was uncomfortable to leave my house. Then my room.
I was drowning in negative emotions. Loneliness. Fear. Frustration. Overwhelmed-ness. I started missing class. My grades got worse.
Then I just… stopped.
What it was like
It was like a switch went off in my brain—the off switch. I stopped feeling—not just the bad emotions but the good ones too. I couldn’t get up in the morning. I didn’t go to school. This went on for three months, and I remember very little of it.
What did I do all day? According to my mom, I laid on my bed in a fetal position and watched TV every waking moment. I watched the same five or six movies over and over on repeat. I made it through Friends and The Office a few times. I didn’t read, I didn’t write, and I didn’t do anything I really enjoyed.
Weirdly, though I wasn’t going to school, I continued working at my part-time job at a grocery store. Twice a week, I would dress up in my uniform, walk there, work for four hours, and then walk home.
My parents were completely confused by my behaviour. They didn’t know whether to force me to go to school or leave me be. They went from medical professional to professional, trying to find a solution. I remember fighting with them a few times when they tried to force me to get up in the morning or see a new doctor.
I remember crying once. I went left my room to get a snack—I had no appetite for anything except junk food—and stopped on the stairs. My dad was in the kitchen, bent over the counter, crying. I backed away, back up the stairs, and went back to bed. I sobbed for about five minutes, and then hit the “Next Episode” button on my phone to turn my brain back off.
For those months, it seemed like this would never end. This would just be the way I was for the rest of my life. There was no solution in sight.
When it ended
If I’d had my way, I would have stayed in my bed forever. But my parents were far too amazing for that. They forced me up, again and again, until they eventually found a therapist to help me.
I remember pieces of those first few sessions. I was anxious every second that I was away from my devices. My parents had made me come, and I was angry. I was sullen and didn’t want to talk. Sometimes, I would lie for the therapist for no reason. We wasted several sessions working through issues that I made up.
But the therapist was also working closely with my parents. She shifted my worldview until I wasn’t nearly as angry at my parents as I was at her. Then she had my parents take away my devices—all of them. My phone, my laptop, my Nintendo DS. No more screens, no more distractions.
I was furious and angry and devastated. But for the first time in three months, I was forced to sit with my feelings. I couldn’t avoid them. I felt my fear and my sadness. And they hurt. Those feelings made me not want to do anything at all.
Then, a week later, I went back to school. The first time, I stayed for just an hour. I was lucky that my school had an amazing guidance and learning services department. The counsellors there worked to set up a program just for me, designed to be simple enough for me to get back on track. I did all my schoolwork in one quiet classroom, away from the eyes of curious classmates and teachers.
A few weeks later, I was in that classroom full-time. Then I started to go back to my classes, like normal. Then I felt like a normal student again.
Who I became
Once I was back at school, I gradually woke up. I became me again. I plugged into my therapy and stopped avoiding. I learned new ways to think and live and challenge myself.
I won’t lie. It was hard work. Some mornings, I would hear my alarm go off and just lay back in bed and listen to the irritating buzzing. But I kept getting up and going to class. I kept trying.
Once I was finally myself again, I became someone new. I was stronger. I was more empathetic. I would look at the people around me, and instead of worrying about how I looked in their eyes, I wondered what they were going through.
My proudest accomplishment is that—with the help of summer school, online classes, and support from some amazing teachers—I managed to graduate high school on time. I got to receive my diploma alongside my friends. Today, I just finished my third year of university, and though I have my ups and downs, I have never given up.
My best advice to anyone in a similar situation is the most cliché advice: It gets better. It’s okay to feel lousy sometimes. Some days, just getting out of bed is a victory, and you should celebrate it. But when you can get through the darkness, it gets better. You can get better, and you will be stronger.
