[ The D Word]

“Loving ourselves through the process of owning our story is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.”

-Brené Brown

I have depression. There, I said it. 4 years ago, I would have been so scared to even talk to anyone about that. Even still today, I'm careful about whom I straight up tell that too, and I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of it being such a taboo topic.

I'm sick of having to deal with it behind the scenes.

I'm sick of hearing people not admitting that they have it.

I'm sick of people not getting the help they need.

And I'm sick of hearing about people taking they're lives through suicide. 

Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I've never been suicidal. I've never gotten to the point where I even thought about taking my own life, I've never been in a place that deep and dark, or gotten to that point of desperation for relief. But I have known many people who do get there, and I know a lot of people who have thought about it. Thankfully, everyone I know battling it right now is still here today. 

My depression began the middle of sophomore year of high school, and by the summer of 2011 rolled around, I had depression, mild anorexia, and PTSD. Anyone who has ever had even one of the 3 knows how hard it can be, so the cocktail of all three wasn't a pleasant time. I spent most of that summer at home every day, spending my time reading books or watching TV.  I rarely talked to my friends - the very few I hadn't isolated from my life - and used food as a way to maintain control over some part of my life. 

The scariest part of that summer was this: if you asked me if anything was wrong, I'd say no, and that I felt perfectly fine. 

My family would make little comments every now and then, saying I should eat more or asking if I was okay, but I'd brush them off. I didn't want to accept that anything was wrong with me. If something was wrong, then I must have failed, and I must be screwed up and need help. It wasn't until one night I noticed that so much of my hair had fallen out that my ponytail was basically 1/4 the size it used to be. The memory is still clear as crystal, walking downstairs to find my parents by the computer, looking at them and saying "I don't know what's wrong, but I need help". I cried myself to sleep that night, but I felt a little better, accepting the fact that something was wrong and knowing I was going to get the help I need. I was finally hopeful again. 

Eventually I got the help I needed, saw the therapists and psychiatrists, started on medication, and mentally worked hard every day to see the good in everything. Slowly but surely, I learned how to gain control over my life again, my thoughts and emotions, and release the strict control I had used on my food to compensate. I got back to a normal weight, found an amazing group of friends, and the rest of high school was amazing. An upward battle, but an amazing recovery. I was able to get back to a place in life that I did not need to be on medication anymore, and stopped right before coming to college. 

Fast forward to sophomore year of college. By the middle of sophomore year, I was having a good year school wise, I had joined my amazing sorority and found so many wonderful friends. And living with my two best friends from freshman year was as exciting as I had hoped. Plus, I had found the most amazing guy who was everything that I ever could wish for. 

Yet I found myself having down days again.

 Never to the point I did before but still unlike the normal "bad day" that is common for most.  My depression was now more of a gloom, a fuzzy dark cloud that made my mood melancholy and my appetite disappear, lack of motivation to do anything and no desire for human interaction. My depression had changed from what it was in high school, and one of the main differences was that I was aware that I was prone to it, and could recognize when it was hitting. Those closest to me knew that I have it, so I was able to talk to them about it, which is the most amazing thing and makes so much difference. I decided to contact a professional again, and go back on a low dose of medication. It wasn't an easy choice, because part of me still felt like I was admitting defeat and that I was not able to be happy by myself, but I knew it was better to get the needed help than suffer more than I had to. 

And I also knew that as hard as it was before, I had overcome it. 

"Fall down 8 times, get back up 9 times."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger"

"Forget what hurt you, but never forget what it taught you"

Everything happens for a reason is one of my mottos in life. It didn't used to be, trust me. But anyone who had been through tough times and survived, or overcome hardships in life, can attest to the fact that they grew from them, if not in strength than experience. 

Isolating my friends eventually taught me the importance of a close friendship, being completely open with those you hold close, and to not allow my introverted depressed tendencies to let me lose the ones I love. I have learned to not spend time on friendships that are toxic, and to foster the ones that will help me grow. I have been able to find friends who not only accept me for who I am, but love all the differences and embrace me all the same. Even just this year God has blessed me with friends who have become so close and precious to me, who know how I feel, can relate to me, and thus support me in ways that others cannot. And to my beautiful little Julia, and my fast friend Jamiee, you two mean more to me than you will ever know. 

A toxic relationship and break up taught me the importance of finding someone who values you more than you can fathom. I appreciate my wonderful boyfriend and our amazing relationship so much more than I probably would have, because I know how special it is to have found that person. He has become such a rock for me when I'm going nuts, dealing with stress or depression some days, or even just every day, making me laugh and making sure I know how special and beautiful I am. Ladies, if you find a guy like that, you've found a keeper. I thank God every single day for him, and truly believe he came into my life at the perfect time. 

Most importantly, the fact that I've overcome depression before reminds me that it is possible to beat it. Life is so beautiful. If you try hard enough, you can find a reason every day why life is worth living. Diving deeper into my Catholic faith has brought me not only peace of heart and mind, but hope and inspiration. So many others including the saints have struggled with the same things I do, and they're perfect examples of using their struggles to grow closer to the Lord, as well as to keep on living. 

Now that I'm getting to the end of this post, I don't really remember what message I was trying to clearly convey when I started writing it. But that isn't really a bad thing. Everyone will probably get something different out of it I guess,  depending on what they're looking for, and I hope that it is something beneficial. 

If you know me but didn't know this about me, now you do.

If you were too afraid to accept how you've been feeling but it kinda sounds similar to this, please please talk to someone.

If you already know you have depression then you're ahead of the game. Let's be friends, cause its so much better knowing you're not alone. 

And if you've ever contemplated taking your own life, or currently are, don't. I love you way too much, you're so special, and it would be such a sad thing to lose such an amazing person as you. It gets better. You are loved. 

You're here for a reason, and life is an exhilarating adventure.

"But whatever experience we have, whether it is good or whether it's bad, we can always remember it and learn something from it. And it's those moments... when something touches you, something opens up something that you didn't realize before, you feel a longing, you know, that you never felt before."

 - The Human Experience 

“I just want you to know that you’re very special… and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.” 

-Perks of Being a Wallflower