Dealing with my high-functioning depression
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed below are my own. I am not a licensed clinical psychologist, so please don’t take the words I say below as a way to diagnose your own mental health. Talk to a health care professional if you feel as if you have symptoms of depression
Some days, I’m on top of the world. I feel invincible and strong and smart and powerful. Other days, I hardly want to get out of bed and feel so sad and down that I just want my life to be over.
I know what you’re thinking: Brooke, everyone goes through these kinds of emotional highs and lows. It’s a natural part of life. To that I say, yes, seasons of sadness and happiness come and go. Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “ To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” However, it doesn’t mean that my feelings and life experiences should be trivialized. I know that everything has its time and place, but my high-functioning depression has been ongoing for about three years now.
When it started
When I was in my first-year at Carolina, my first semester was great. My second semester saw the first wave of depression hit. I went to the on-campus doctor for a check-up about a separate issue and was given a form to fill out that asked me about my mental health. I decided that day to be honest when I filled out the questionnaire. And I answered “yes” to enough questions that I was referred to Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS) at Campus Health.
At Campus Health, I spoke with a clinical psychologist and was told I needed to go to therapy. I was uneasy about the topic of therapy because outwardly, I was doing fine. My grades were good, I had healthy relationships with friends and family and I wasn’t “skipping out on life.” However, I agreed to attend therapy once a week. I was already stressing out about how to fit a one-hour therapy session between my course load, work-study and everyday life, but I understood the benefits that therapy could bring to my life.
Unfortunately, the therapy ended after two sessions. I was very hesitant to open up to the therapist about my problems. I was so used to building up barriers between myself and others that I was too afraid to let those walls down. By the second session, I had heard back from study abroad that I had been accepted to the South East Asian Summer program. That had obviously lifted my mood, so when I went to therapy that week, I was giddy with the excitement of new adventures. The therapist seemed to see this as a sign that the depression I had been in a few weeks back was not strong enough to warrant more sessions. I was secretly relieved because then I could gain that one hour of my life each week back and put it to more “useful” things.
It took me an entire year and a half after my first therapy session to acknowledge internally that I had depression. It seems crazy that for so long I didn’t even want to acknowledge that. Even after the doctors told me that I had depression and I had to be medically cleared to go to China because my doctor who signed the medical release form had known about my bout with depression the prior year, I did not officially acknowledge my depression until July of 2017.
When it takes you an entire year and a half after you’re diagnosed by a therapist with depression to actually agree with them, it takes a toll on your mental health. Even though I wasn’t acknowledging my own depression, it didn’t mean that it had magically gone away on its own. Instead, I had simply internalized these feelings as a part of my everyday life; the yoke I had to shoulder. Being me meant having to consistently deal with fatigue and extreme anxiety and perfectionist tendencies.
What I’ve learned
It’s okay to not be okay. Seriously, there is nothing wrong with going to a therapist for help. There are reasons why those jobs exist. And if you believe that depression is a “made-up disease” that people use as an excuse, then I implore you to reconsider. I was once in that same boat; I even thought it was a sign of weakness to take anxiety medication. Now, as I’ve grown and matured, I understand the importance of seeking treatment. Like one of my professors always likes to say, “Don’t suffer in silence.”
One of the biggest things that I’ve learned through this entire journey to mental wellness is that it’s important to show love to yourself. I am highly critical of myself, a perfectionist and my own worst enemy. When your self-talk is negative and hurts you, it’s time to re-figure the way you speak to yourself. I’ve had the hardest time defeating my inner demons, but I’ve found strategies that help.
Exercise and writing and watching TV for a couple hours helps lighten the load. Meditation is also something that I find helps, though for some it can lead to a downward spiral into rumination rather than reflection. Breathing during a stressful situation can also help you to recenter and refocus. You have to find the kinds of things that will help you succeed in quashing your inner demons and get back to what you do best: living life.
Lastly, I want to acknowledge that the road to wellness is not a straight line. I will always have times in my life where I am infinitely sad and want to sit and eat ice cream in my room while listening to sad music. We oftentimes misjudge wellness as “being 100%.” When we relapse, we start to wonder if we can ever get well again. In my case, I’ve dealt with my depression quietly and without anyone really noticing that I’ve forgotten what it means to be “well.” But, I will be quiet no longer. For me to stay silent is a detriment to my own well-being.
Above all, I’ve learned that asking for help is the most important thing you can do for yourself. We are not meant to suffer alone. We are also not meant to judge others or feel superior to others because our mental health is “normal.” There is no such thing as normal, and we’re all on our own paths and journeys. Until we can learn empathy and compassion to one another — and most importantly to ourselves — then we can never grow and change.
