Junior/Senior year of college....
I finally started dealing with the depression that was slowly crippling my life. I kind of had to. There was a weekend break my junior year when I just broke down. Turns out that was a major depressive episode I had been building up to. I stayed in my room for three days, didn't do my homework for my J-term class and got out of bed only to use the restroom or get pizza out of my fridge. I only broke out of that episode because I had a shift to work in the kitchen.
After I talked to my j-term professor about what happened, he was surprisingly understanding and allowed me an incomplete that I later turned into a D+. Hey-better than failing and it was a physical chemistry course on thermodynamics which I didn't like much (too much physics and I'm not a fan).
Then I procrastinated two months to see a counselor on campus. A month after I started seeing her, she gave me a depression evaluation. I scored off the charts, but this time that wasn't a good thing. She advised me to go the student clinic and talk to an RN there.
After an agonizing weekend away on a Mock Trial trip where I talked to my three closest friends about my fears and the depression and what meds would do to me, I started on anti-depressant medication that seemed to help. My doctor back home wasn't surprised when I came in to talk to her about it and was satisfied with the treatments I was doing. I thought things were turning around.
Senior year was still bumpy. The depression had affected me so much academically, I nearly changed my major. Chemistry was becoming too difficult to focus on, I felt I wasn't learning anything and I was finding my love of science decrease. Somehow, quitting school was never an option for me. I didn't know what else to do with my life; I had wanted to work in forensics for eight years and now it seemed like getting a chemistry degree was going to kill me, even with taking anti-depressants and getting tutored.
Then in April my senior year a very close girlfriend didn't show up for lunch one day. I didn't notice because I didn't make it that day either. Then her mom called me. That had never happened. I assumed she was on a spontaneous road trip to see a friend ours of town. It wasn't that far and she'd driven there before.
I can't go through the story here. Suffice to say her minivan was found along a two lane highway, locked up, with her keys, purse and cellphone inside. Her body was found not too far away in a field. Official cause of death-exposure. She was 19 years old. It rocked the campus. It devastated her mother and family.
If I hadn't been on anti-depressants I don't know how I would have survived. To this day those last couple months of school are blurred. I remember writing poetry about her. I remember crying my eyes out. I remember graduation being moved indoors because it might rain. I remember riding in a car to her funeral. I remember her sister playing a song from the Little Mermaid. I remember the cemetery and how damp and muggy and depressed the day felt, as if even nature were mourning my sweet young friend. I remember laughing and smiling and feeling guilty for doing anything because she could never do any of it herself anymore. Survivor's guilt I had badly.
I think I broke again, like I had my junior year J-term. Only this was worse. There was so much pain and anger, not just at God, but also at her and myself.
TO BE CONTINUED...
I finally started dealing with the depression that was slowly crippling my life. I kind of had to. There was a weekend break my junior year when I just broke down. Turns out that was a major depressive episode I had been building up to. I stayed in my room for three days, didn't do my homework for my J-term class and got out of bed only to use the restroom or get pizza out of my fridge. I only broke out of that episode because I had a shift to work in the kitchen.
After I talked to my j-term professor about what happened, he was surprisingly understanding and allowed me an incomplete that I later turned into a D+. Hey-better than failing and it was a physical chemistry course on thermodynamics which I didn't like much (too much physics and I'm not a fan).
Then I procrastinated two months to see a counselor on campus. A month after I started seeing her, she gave me a depression evaluation. I scored off the charts, but this time that wasn't a good thing. She advised me to go the student clinic and talk to an RN there.
After an agonizing weekend away on a Mock Trial trip where I talked to my three closest friends about my fears and the depression and what meds would do to me, I started on anti-depressant medication that seemed to help. My doctor back home wasn't surprised when I came in to talk to her about it and was satisfied with the treatments I was doing. I thought things were turning around.
Senior year was still bumpy. The depression had affected me so much academically, I nearly changed my major. Chemistry was becoming too difficult to focus on, I felt I wasn't learning anything and I was finding my love of science decrease. Somehow, quitting school was never an option for me. I didn't know what else to do with my life; I had wanted to work in forensics for eight years and now it seemed like getting a chemistry degree was going to kill me, even with taking anti-depressants and getting tutored.
Then in April my senior year a very close girlfriend didn't show up for lunch one day. I didn't notice because I didn't make it that day either. Then her mom called me. That had never happened. I assumed she was on a spontaneous road trip to see a friend ours of town. It wasn't that far and she'd driven there before.
I can't go through the story here. Suffice to say her minivan was found along a two lane highway, locked up, with her keys, purse and cellphone inside. Her body was found not too far away in a field. Official cause of death-exposure. She was 19 years old. It rocked the campus. It devastated her mother and family.
If I hadn't been on anti-depressants I don't know how I would have survived. To this day those last couple months of school are blurred. I remember writing poetry about her. I remember crying my eyes out. I remember graduation being moved indoors because it might rain. I remember riding in a car to her funeral. I remember her sister playing a song from the Little Mermaid. I remember the cemetery and how damp and muggy and depressed the day felt, as if even nature were mourning my sweet young friend. I remember laughing and smiling and feeling guilty for doing anything because she could never do any of it herself anymore. Survivor's guilt I had badly.
I think I broke again, like I had my junior year J-term. Only this was worse. There was so much pain and anger, not just at God, but also at her and myself.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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