There is Hope

I was 17 when I was “officially” diagnosed with major depression but I had been struggling since I was a young teen. I remember the days before my diagnosis and wondering what was wrong with me. I started and ended most days in tears. Getting out of bed seemed impossible to me and not because I was a teenager that liked to sleep too much. In fact, my struggle with insomnia started around that age so sleep was something that came very few and far between. Most days my entire body ached and I was often lost in my own mind, wondering if or when the turmoil inside of me would ever come to an end.

I grew up with a mother that struggled with depression as well and you would think that means that she was more than prepared for my struggles or knew the signs to look for but she didn’t. On days that I couldn’t get out of bed, I was often called lazy and yelled at. Trying to explain to her that I felt dead inside wasn’t something that seemed possible so instead I kept it all inside while it continued to eat away at me. I was home schooled from 3rd grade to 10th grade so 90% of my days were spent with my mom and sisters. I often wondered why I couldn’t be happy and positive like my older sister or why my younger sisters seemed to be able to walk through life without a care in the world. Little did I realize that my little sisters were struggling just as much as I was but I was so trapped in my own mind I couldn’t see the signs.

I went to Penn Manor in 11th grade and though my years there weren’t all filled with great memories, I’m forever grateful for the staff at Penn Manor and the friends that I met that kept fighting for me when I didn’t want to fight any longer. I remember one night after telling my friend how much I was struggling, I got a text from the cop at my school asking me to promise him I would be at school tomorrow and when I got there we would sit and talk. I didn’t want to promise anything, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die but I made the promise and got to school the next day. Little did I realize that day would start the beginning of my journey to healing.

I was sent to Phil Haven in 2010. I was in out-patient therapy until I went to college in 2011 and I was put on Celexa which made me feel more crazy than I already felt. From the age of 13–22 I had several failed suicide attempts, many nights of trying to numb the pain via alcohol, toxic relationships and more mental agony than I care to remember. I was put on one med after the other, just to have none of them work. Each med made me feel worse or made sleeping even more difficult. I was supposed to be enjoying life, chasing my dreams and making memories but instead I was finding myself asking God over and over to please let me die in my sleep. I whole heartily believed my pain would never end and that the world and the people I loved would be so much better off if I no longer existed.

February 2014, God brought a man into my life that over the past 3 1/2 years has helped me to see my worth and know that I had the ability to heal and be whole again. He pushed me to take care of myself when I didn’t want to and helped me get back to therapy. I have been working with my therapist consistently since 2015 and though it took a while for me to not feel shame for needing a therapist, I am proud of how far I’ve come and that I no longer feel shame in my journey. I’ve had to face issues in my past that I tried to ignore for so long. I’ve had to forgive myself for all the anger and shame I felt. I had to make ammends with the ones who felt the wrath of all my pain and anger. I’ve had to forgive people that never apologized and most of all I had to realize that I am so much more than my diagnosis of depression and anxiety.

Mental Illness doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t matter how old you are, your enthicity or the amount of money in your bank. I have encountered many individulas that struggle throughout my lifetime and the most important thing that I’ve realized is that people who have a support system and don’t walk through it alone are the ones that are able to see there is another side to the agony they feel. Depression affects every one of us differently but it doesn’t mean we can’t fight it together. There is hope in the struggle. Each day you are able to force yourself to do opposite of how you feel you are releasing the hold of depression little by little. Facing your wounds is not easy but it will bring healing to you little by little as long as you don’t ever give up. I’ve learned to give myself grace on the tough days. Grace to know that even if all I do is get a shower, eat and write in my journal, that is so much more than I did when I was 13 and laying in bed crying all day because I wanted to die more than anything in the world.

Depression doesn’t come with a handbook and what works for some people won’t work for all but what’s most important is that you find what works for you! Whether it is journaling, running, music, painting, photography, meditation or even just a hot bath to soak in. Find what brings peace to your heart and continue to do that even on the good days. Mental Illness is a tough battle to fight my friend but the number one thing I want you to know today and every day is that it is not a battle that can’t be overcome. You are stronger than the struggles it brings you and your life has so much more meaning to it than the thoughts going through your head. Whether you are struggling today, tomorrow or a year from now, please know that you are not alone and your worth isn’t defined by a medical diagnosis. Don’t keep your pain inside, find someone you can trust and has your best interest at heart and let them know you’re struggling.! There is hope for all of us! Keep fighting and whatever you do, don’t give up!

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