Explaining mental illness is a difficult task, and there is never a straightforward way to describe it. There are various ailments, and different people display different symptoms. If one does not suffer the same way I do mentally, it is nearly impossible to explain to them how I am feeling, unless they are educated on the matter. The thing about any mental illness, but specifically the ones I struggle with, is that it is a chronic disease that nobody can see. I cannot show my pain or describe it, but it is always there. Some days my internal wounds flare up, and other days I forget they are there. This is what I mean when I say that depression and anxiety are an uphill battle. It is a fight that never goes away, and sometimes it is harder, almost unbearable, to overcome. Other times it is smooth-sailing. I lived like this my entire life, with high highs and even lower lows. Recently, I decided to face my demons rather than running from them as my illness overtook me.
After the quarantine struck a year ago today, I became forced to face my own thoughts without any distractions. I did not realize how much I used distraction as a coping mechanism for my depression and anxiety. Of course, the quarantine turned everyone’s world upside down, but mine did not remain excluded from that. It forced me to live my depression symptoms I was trying to run away from; isolation, loneliness and no motivation were the worst. The days blended endlessly, and the longer lockdown went on, the worse I felt. I ended up sleeping all day and staying up all night when my emotions and obsessive thoughts heightened. It was a recipe for disaster, and I was a time bomb waiting to explode.
Near May, quarantine slightly lifted, and I was able to see people safely, but at that point, I did not want to. It seemed impossible to act like I was okay; it was hard even to live, let alone pretend I was happy to my friends. To be honest, I do not even know why I found it so important always to seem happy, but at the time, I did. I had one friend who helped me through everything; I forgot what it felt like to actually laugh and have a good time, what it felt like to look forward to something. I always felt bad because everything that my friends and family close to me did to help me was not enough. I know it discouraged my mom, especially seeing me so broken. Eventually, near the end of May, I knew I needed much more help than I was getting. Though everyone around me tried so hard to help, my thoughts were still dark, and I felt no happiness whatsoever. The day I went to the hospital for treatment, I barely even remember. All I know is that I woke up at 3 p.m. uncontrollably crying, and that was when my parents knew it was time for me to go somewhere. I really wished people talked about mental illness more, especially at that moment. I felt like a crazy person who was so unhinged, someone nobody understood. My treatment facility did so many things for me, but one of the biggest things was that I did not feel alone. Some patients were going through the same thing as me, and some worse. At the end of the day, we were all getting help we needed; that was so special to me.
The second I got out of the hospital, I first told my mom that I wanted to help kids like me. I wanted people to understand what kids like me go through and become more educated on it. Those with depression, anxiety and so many other problems already feel alone. The judgment society puts on them makes it so much worse, so it baffles me that we still see mental illness as taboo as a society. Because of this, it was bizarre having to tell my friends in the beginning what I was going through; I was so scared. Eventually, they asked me where I was for five days, why I was not on my phone, and why my schedule was so weird. I was in extensive therapy all summer throughout the day, so it was confusing for them as to why I could not leave to do anything. The crazy thing is it actually ended up helping so many of them after I shared everything and made them feel less alone, too. It was another reminder of why I want to do what I do in the future.
I would not wish what I felt on my worst enemies in those months. Even after treatment, I still have horrible days, and there were times at that moment where I could feel myself slipping into dark thoughts again. All I could ever want is to see someone like myself broken and help them heal. It is the most rewarding feeling, and I am so grateful for the people who did and are still helping me. I want so badly to give back to everyone and be that light in the darkness that my therapists, doctors, friends and family were for me. I know this is an illness I will have to deal with the rest of my life, but helping others who feel the same makes life a little bit easier to go through for someone like me.9
