When Your Mind is Your Own Enemy

It all started at the beginning of 2013, during my last semester of high school. The symptoms had been present for years, but I ignored them as much as possible until it became too difficult to ignore. I felt as though a weight was pressing down on my chest and like I was no longer in control of my own mind. I felt never-ending exhaustion, and I found myself more prone to getting emotional easily. I was no stranger to this level of sadness, but I always chalked it up to other factors in my life causing me to feel that way.

Even during this time, there were many reasons why I could be feeling the way I was. I felt isolated from others, and it was even worse considering that I had dealt with my first breakup just before senior year started. Rumors were being spread, about me, and people were butting into my business that never interacted with me before. I assumed that this overwhelming sadness I was dealing with was due to these issues I was facing in my last year of high school along with the normal whirlwind of emotions that comes with being a teenager.

I did my best to bottle up this sadness I was feeling. I convinced myself that it was temporary, and that it would pass on its own. I didn’t feel like I could tell anyone, anyways, because I didn’t believe that anyone would understand or take it seriously. I had already heard people tell me, “It’s all in your head”, or “You’re too young to have problems.” I couldn’t cry without people around me judging me for “crying too much,” and I couldn’t be too open about how I was feeling because I would be seen as “crazy.” So, I did my best to put on a smile while locking away the internal pains and struggles I was dealing with.

The more I concealed my sadness, however, the stronger it became. I had allowed it to make itself at home in the inner depths of my mind, and it gained power over me. I isolated myself from the few friends I had left because I was convinced that they were sick of me. No matter how much sleep I got, I felt so drained that I sluggishly walked through the halls of school as though someone had chained a heavy weight to me. Any energy I could muster went into going to school, so I was attached to my bed whenever I wasn’t obligated to be in school. I felt as though I didn’t have much to look forward to if life was going to constantly be this way, and maybe I just wasn’t fit to continue being alive. I genuinely believed that I would wind up giving up on life before I reached adulthood.

I thought I did a good job of masking my sadness, but I didn’t realize how conspicuous it was becoming to others. I had distanced myself from any remaining friends I had at the time, but they still noticed that something was wrong and showed genuine concern. Even my ex-boyfriend that broke up with me the summer before hugged me and asked if I was okay because I wasn’t myself.

The biggest surprise, however, came from the clinic in my school. One time, I went there to get some aspirin for period cramps. I had only met the school nurse once during my freshman year, and so I didn’t expect much beyond just answering a few questions and taking the pill. She told me that I should come back in about a week for a check-up, which confused me since this wasn’t something that I was required to do at the school clinic before and I already had a pediatrician outside of school, but I decided to go anyway.

When I got to the office, I had to fill out a form answering questions about myself. There were the usual questions about any physical ailments I may have and what illnesses ran in my family. There was also a section about mental well-being. Was I feeling sad or hopeless? Did I worry a lot? Was I having suicidal thoughts? Up until this point, I still hadn’t told anyone about the struggles I was facing internally, and it still had full control over me. My mind had become my own worst enemy, and I felt like I was losing the battle against it.

I don’t know if it was me being tired of fighting the battle alone, or because I genuinely wanted to find out what was wrong with me. Either way, I ended up answering the questions as honestly as possible. For the first time in my life, I opened up about everything I was holding in. I was nervous about being misunderstood and judged as usual, but surprisingly, the school nurse approached me with warmth and understanding. In fact, she admitted that she told me to come back because she had sensed that something was wrong when I came for the aspirin that day. She was concerned about me and wanted to check on me mentally as well as gently offer professional help. I felt some relief finally releasing all the internal agony that I was holding in, but I was also shocked that she was able to tell that something was wrong. Were things so bad that someone who didn’t know me well could tell I was struggling mentally?

I would soon be diagnosed with depression. For most of my life, I assumed that depression was a temporary overwhelming sadness that you felt when something bad happened in your life. I had heard of clinical depression before, but I didn’t know how heavy it was and that you could develop it at a young age. The clinic provided reassurance and solutions for coping with depression, and I am grateful for that. There was also a sense of comfort in knowing what was causing me to feel the way that I did, and that I was not alone in what I was feeling.

However, getting a diagnosis was still just the first step in my journey of living with depression. It remained as a dominating force over my mind for a long time, and I struggled to find healthy coping mechanisms. Unlike conditional depression, which is triggered by a specific event and is more likely to pass on its own, clinical depression can be life-long and requires medical treatment such as therapy and medication. Because of how severe my depression was and how much it robbed me of enjoying my teenage years, I was feeling frustrated and discouraged. Why did I have to deal with depression, and how was I going to live the rest of my life this way? I was only 17 at the time and already struggled to survive my first long bout of clinical depression. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with more depressive episodes that would hit me unexpectedly.

The clinic provided me with a therapist for a while, and she did help me out during the time I was able to see her. She was very welcoming and easy to talk to, and she provided me with resources to help me outside of the sessions. Unfortunately, she was only able to see me until I graduated high school a few months later. Then, I had to find a new therapist outside the school.

I went through many therapists throughout the years, and I was in and out of therapy. I had a variety of therapists that either had methods that didn’t mesh well with me, or they left me feeling worse after the session than I did when I came in. I had therapists that didn’t seem to care about what I was talking about, that were rude to me if they didn’t see me making progress, or that made me feel like I was incapable of living a normal life because of my depression. As a result, I would give up on therapy because it seemed pointless.

I tried seeking coping mechanisms on my own, but I ended up with solutions that were often only temporary and avoidant such as weed, alcohol, or random hook-ups. I also became dependent on romantic relationships for happiness, which would backfire because I wound up settling for men that were toxic just so I didn’t have to be alone. The temporary euphoria I felt from these coping mechanisms became addictive, and I continued to indulge in them because it was better than facing and exploring the depression and dark thoughts that were still looming around in my mind.

When the temporary fix wore off, I would feel worse. The self-deprecating thoughts would echo through my mind so frequently that I would believe them. I truly would believe that I was unworthy of happiness, and that everyone around me would be better off without me. I didn’t think I would make it past my early 20’s with how often I thought of giving up. I came close to attempting a few times, but I would always end up not going along with it.

Perhaps this epiphany that I wasn’t doomed to succumb to depression was always there, because I would always reach out for help or stop myself. There seemed to be a part of me that would strong-arm the depression voice away and remind me that I had reasons to live. I would have trusted loved ones talk me out of it if I reached out to them, but there were times when I was able to talk myself out of it. Severe depression may take control of your thoughts, but these thoughts are not rooted from reality.

Unfortunately, some people are unable to come to that realization, which is not through any fault of their own. Depression is such a powerful force that it can make you believe that you are all the horrible things you think about yourself and that you don’t deserve to be alive. Just like physical diseases, mental illnesses can be hard to live with, especially since they are often life-long and something that has to be coped with instead of cured. Unfortunately, it can sometimes be too heavy a burden to bear. That is why it is crucial to seek professional help and confide in trusted loved ones.

I have always wanted to contribute something to this world that could have a positive impact on others. Whether that be through writing or another medium, I want to use my passion for creativity to speak out to others. I also want to be present in the lives of my loved ones and eventually have a family of my own. These desires are what I remind myself of whenever my depression becomes too heavy. and they inspire me to keep going.

Even though I spent so many years trying to avoid the negative thoughts, I have learned to acknowledge them in a way that allows them to pass. I also am better at being honest and leaning on my loved ones when needed instead of hiding what I was feeling. Living with depression hasn’t been easy, but it has made me stronger. It also has made me more confident with myself, because I know I am strong enough to withstand even the worst of times.