On the days leading up to my hospitalization, I was sinking deeper and deeper into a major depression. Living in residence at my school, I spent the majority of my time curled up in a ball on my bed, isolating myself from everything and everyone around me. I didn't want people to see this part of me because I knew that I was not the person that I wanted people to know and it scared me to think that I would lose everyone that I had built trust and relationships with because they would see this part of me. My mom knew that something wasn't right,and came down and stayed at a friend's house close to my school while I continued to attend school. Despite how horrible I felt, I continued to attend class because I didn't want to let anyone down, I didn't want people to see how bad things had really gotten. I knew I had reached my breaking point when I woke up one day and couldn't speak at all. Not being able to talk at school was a part of myself that I thought I had gotten rid of completely, and now it was back. I was scared to show people at my new school this part of myself that I hated so much, so I stood in the background, hoping that no one would notice that, on the inside, I was going through inner turmoil. After dealing with this for one class, I texted my mom on the break of tears asking her to pick me up.
When she picked me up, I broke down. We drove and drove until we found a church parking lot. I knew that I needed help and felt like I was doing everything I could, but nothing was working and things were getting worse and worse. Though I was not suicidal, I wondered if it was worth living when I felt so horrible, and this scared me a lot. Once we parked, I grabbed my cellphone and called every mental health hotline that I could find. Though the people on the other end of the line were kind and reassuring, they all had the same message: “The earliest we can get you in to see someone is next week”. I had previously been to psychologists, and I knew that, despite the wait time, simply seeing someone once would not fix everything. I knew that recovering from this severe depression would take a lot of time, time that, in that moment, I did not feel I had. That night I returned to residence and resorted to once again curling up in my usual ball of sadness and isolation until I broke down once again. My mom came and picked me up, and, despite it being 9:30pm, we made the 75 minute journey home. I was frustrated because my depression made it so that I could no longer attend the school which had helped me overcome so much, and I didn't want to let anyone down by “feeding into my depression” and going home to take a break. I thought that once I got home, things would immediately start to improve, but they didn't.I had no energy to the point where my parents had to help me do simple things like get dressed and walk up and down the stairs. I had lost most of my independence to this disorder, which was so frustrating. Every cell in my body was shutting down and I didn't know what to do anymore. After a lot of contemplation, my family and I made the tough decision to go to the emergency room, where I was voluntarily admitted to the Adult Psychiatric Unit. My hospitalization consisted of seeing many professionals and doctors as well as going through numerous medications to try to find the correct dosage. Now, two weeks after being discharged, I am doing a lot better and am back at school. Though depression still lingers from time to time, I now have strategies of managing it. If I have learned anything from this experience, it's that you should never give up hope. Though depression and anxiety still affect my functioning from day to day, the magnitude in which they affect me has dropped significantly. With the proper treatments, mental illnesses can get better. If anything, this experience has given me a lot more wisdom and hope, and has taught me that, if i got through this, I can get through anything that comes my way. I hope that, if you're ever facing something as difficult as this, that you will feel this same hope too.
1 Comment
Angela Rolfe
3/25/2016 04:40:29 pm
You display a lot of courage in being so open & honest about how depression can make a person feel & think about themselves & others. Very brave & strong of you to share your journey. Kudos to you.
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
CategoriesAll About MeMy name is Lauren and I am 20 years old. I have an anxiety disorder called selective mutism that limits my ability to speak outside of my home. I believe that this disorder has touched me for a reason, and my life mission is to bring much needed awareness to this heartbreaking disorder. Welcome to my journey. Archives
January 2018
Categories |