Depressed in 2021

2020 was the year that changed the entire world. It was also the year that broke me down and forced me to survive.

As a 25 year old, urban Indigenous male, I've battled with mental illness, addiction and substance dependency for years.

February 2020, was the defining moment of my life. I had woken up one night, with one of the worst, uncontrollable feeling's I've ever experienced. (Now knowing it was a panic attack). I couldn't take a full breath, I couldn't stop crying and I was terrified to face anyone. I couldn't control any of my own thoughts.

A week had gone by, and I had called countless clinics, seen as many counselors as I could. I can't even remember a moment where I wasn't in total fear of living at the time. The thoughts I was experiencing, were getting more grim and dangerous as every day passed. I knew I had to reach out and get help, I knew I didn't want to feel this way anymore.

Until one night, I had a prepared a full plan in my mind. Notes I would write, passwords to all my accounts and social media's ready to give to my father. How I would end my feelings, and my own being. I've experienced these same exact thoughts as young teen, and often acted out on them. I knew, deep down inside, I didn't want to give up. But I wanted these thoughts and feelings to stop.

I had to stop everything I was doing at that point. In my small city of 175,000, I was lucky I had access to a Mobile Crisis Unit. I contacted the unit, and they sent a crisis worker to my location. And they had confirmed what I was already thinking, and what I already knew. I had to admit myself to the hospital. I was a danger to myself. I had already self-harmed through-out the previous week.

The shame, the guilt, and the utter feeling of defeat that I felt, while I was sitting in triage, waiting to be admitted, was deafening. I didn't have a close group of friends I could all on, I didn't have a single family member within 12 hours of me. The only sense of concern I felt towards me, was the crisis worker who sat with me, and made sure I was admitted before she left for the night. I still think about her, the worry and the feeling of wanting to help, she had shown me that night.

I had spent the night in the emergency room, listening to the cries of patients, being monitored, only separated from everyone else, by a thin curtain cracked wide enough to see my bed.

The next evening, a bed in the Psychiatric Ward had opened up, and I was escorted to the unit. Before I stepped onto the actual unit itself, I was put into a small room, with a table and 2 chairs, what I had assumed was an intake room. There, my vitals were taken and was asked the same general questions I was asked while I was admitted into the ER.

I was given 5 minutes alone with my phone to contact who I needed too. My partner and I were dating long-distance at the time, and I had relied a lot on him to be my emotional crutch. I couldn't call him to let him know what was happening, because I was too busy calling into work letting my situation. I sent a quick text explaining, that I had admitted myself to the hospital and not to worry.

The stories, the experiences, the danger and constant unsafe feeling I felt during my 5 day admission, was overwhelming and is almost impossible to forget.

One thing had changed. At the age of 24, I was finally diagnosed with Severe Depression, after an entire lifetime of feeling lost and confused. It was the biggest step towards taking control of my mental health. But at the same time I was terrified, and I was relieved.

Knowing that my brain wasn't working the right way, that it was sometimes working against me, made me feel like I wasn't crazy. It made me feel, like my childhood, I wasn't "over-dramatic", and that I wasn't a "problem" as my foster parents had made me believe.

The day I was discharged, was one the most proud, I have ever felt. But in a few short weeks, the world would completely change.

I've always worked since I've been 17. It was also the same year I was discharged from Foster Care. So it's what I've always known, is working to provide for myself.

Within the few following days, I had to readjust to living independently again. And within the same few days, I was back to work full-time. The Corona Virus had changed my workplace, my new found routine, and the world immensely. Half my co-workers decided to stay at home, which left our team to re-adjust and continue to support our community and our co-workers.

March 202o to June 2020, was full of constant changes to policies, sanitation protocols, health and safety measures to ensure our safety as employees. It also meant, that I had the chance to pick up more hours. Come into work early, stay late, pick up multiple shifts as more and more co-workers felt it safe to stay home.

June of 2020, we were able to re-establish our workplace as more workers felt safer to come back, and we were also finally able to start hiring more hands.

July 2020, I was offered a a job, with 35+ hours from the start. In a whole new, remote town, with no social circle. After days of weighing the pros and cons, I had to choose to support myself, and accepted a new job.

It was then, where I had made one of the hardest decisions I've had to make, to help ensure my mental well-being.

July 2020, was the month where I was finally taking control, taking risks and accepting the rewards of my actions and choices. But it was also the month, where I lost myself, where I lost the one person, partner and friend that had been there for me for the past year.

January 2021. My Mental health has taken its toll again. Its the month where, I can no longer take control of my own feelings. But it's also the month, where I'm mature enough to notice the changes happening to my physical health, social group and mental health.

Working has always been a distraction, both negative and positive at times. It's also where I had found some of the most supportive, understanding and accepting people I've ever met. Small town hospitality at its finest.

Knowing there's people who will be behind me, cheering me on, supporting me as I continue to grow and experience the ups and downs when dealing with my mental health.

Just knowing I have a support system in my life, a healthier more open relationship with my partner, has made this past year worth it.

My mental health is still fragile, as I try to sort through everything, on top of multiple health issues and concerns. But I know there's a way through everything that my life has given me. Life may seem like there's always going to be a battle, but I've conquered and over came everything it's had for me up until now.

Thank you for taking the time to read a small part my story. Keep your head up, stay strong and know, everything will be okay, even if right now, it doesn't seem like it.

-Danny Kwandibens

(P.S. I want to let whoever is reading this, know, that it is completely okay to feel sad. It is absolutely okay, to feel depressed. It is perfectly acceptable to take the time to feel your emotions. Just don't let it become who you are. Don't let it become your being, don't make it a part of your personality. You are an amazing human being, who is allowed to feel their emotions.)