365 days of depression

In college when my depression had hit an all time low, it was really hard to wake up everyday.

I was always surprised when my birthday came around. I couldn't believe that I had made it another year. The days all blurred together as they tend to do when you're asleep for 20/24 hours a day. After talking with some friends who had the reverse problem, being unable to sleep, they said the same thing happens, your concept of days passing by is completely skewed.

I had a lot of shame everytime my birthday came around. I was shocked, but I was also filled with self loathing. I had accomplished NOTHING, I slept away my days and I wasn't really living, my life didn't deserve a celebration. I'm sure if you talked to the people around me they'd say otherwise, but anxiety and negative self-talk are really powerful things. I hated myself for wasting away but had no motivation to do something different. I had basically accepted I was going to be a sleeping lump forever.

Things started to change on my 21st birthday. This was 3 days after I was raped, and on my birthday it was downpouring rain. I had tried to get a lot of people together, but only 4 people showed, 2 of which were sleeping in my apartment for College World Series/my birthday. (So appreciative of you: Liz England, Taylor Johnson, Meredith Ziegler, and Steven Townsend) I realized I had broken ANY/EVERY connection to the outside world. People don't know you if you've been asleep for 365 days, why would they care about your birthday. (yes, I was severely depressed before the rape, but, the rape didn't help.)

30 minutes after midnight I was drunk (of course) in the middle of a giant College World Series drinking tent and bawling my eyes out. The pain was exploding out of my eyes, but I couldn't verbalize what I was feeling. I didn't even understand what I was feeling, I hadn't felt in so long. I think I understand now though. I felt dirty, violated, like I wanted to take a million showers, except it happened in the shower so I couldn't bear being in there. (I still hate showers, we're working on it) I felt shame, self-hate, hate for the world, sadness for other women, no sadness for myself yet, just hate.

I sat and I cried for hours to my friend Adam who I had run into there and cornered with my breakdown, I'm not sure what I said or if he could even understand me, but he knew I wasn't OK, he was scared to leave me by myself. I'm not sure if I slept or if I just cried for 6 hours, but then the sun came up, and my birthday was over. The pain was all put back inside, reallllllly far down, as far as it could go. I went to breakfast with my friends, they were mad I went missing (I had a tendency to go missing, it's an extrovert problem.) They told me funny stories of their night and then I went to sleep.

I didn't wake up until I was failing majority of my classes finals week of fall semester, that same week my friend Adam came to visit from California. We got coffee, and he asked, "How are you doing?" I said, "Fine, stressed about school." He said "I don't care about school, how's your head, have you been to counseling?" (He was a psych major and was in a grad program for it, very fitting.) I said, "No, I don't think I need to, I think I just need a break. If I don't feel better after Christmas, I'll go when I'm back to school."

Turns out I didn't feel any better after the break, and trying to explain a 1.1 GPA to my parents only made things harder. They wanted me to come home they didn't understand what was happening, they were concerned, angry and scared.

I was scared too. When I got back to campus my conversation with Adam replayed over and over in my head, I made an appointment for the first week of February with a counselor. I went every week, until she thought I was starting to work through some of my trauma, we switched to biweekly. I still wasn't attending class though, I still wasn't getting better. The weekend before Easter break I told my mom about everything. Again, she wanted me to come home, I told her I couldn't because if I missed any more class I'd fail. I talked to all of my professors that week, convinced them to let me turn in overdue work the Tuesday after Easter for a C- and if I missed anymore classes they should fail me. My parents and siblings helped me stay motivated over Easter, we sat around the table working on over half the semester's course work. I kept trying to quit, they wouldn't let me.

I got back, turned in the work, one teacher told me I'd have to retake her course in May and she wouldn't accept my stuff, I didn't blame her. I started my anti-depressants. I stayed in Omaha for an extra month and June 1st I moved back home. I was 15 days away from turning 22.

Something was different about this birthday though. It meant SO much to me. I was still here, I had made it to 22. I cried a lot now, I got really pissed off sometimes, but feeling something was better than nothing. I was alive. I had made it another 365 days and I wasn't just utterly disgusted with myself. 

I was so proud of myself for being here, for feeling anything. I spent half the year asleep, and then in 6 months, I went to counseling, shared my story with my parents, started my medicine,  and I graduated college. I could feel, I wasn't "cured" by any means, but I was really here.

I didn't hate myself on my 22nd birthday. For the first time in years, I thought the past year was worth it. I was proud to be alive, I was proud to be 22.

Now, every year I spend my birthday reflecting on the last 365 days. I've realized, I don't really like being surrounded by a ton of people, I don't like cake, I don't like presents, and I don't really like drinking on my birthday. I'm reflecting on a lot of feelings, the good ones and the bad ones, that I've experienced over the last year, and I'm grateful to have felt it all. I love aging, it's such a privilege.

Being depressed completely changed my view of my birthday.

Coming out of depression changed it again.

If you're in either of these stages, just know I understand, I feel for your heart and your mind and you're not alone. You are worth it, and you deserve a celebration for making it another 365 days.

Whether you celebrate with cute number balloons and champagne, or dinner with someone you love, spend a little time by yourself on your birthday reflecting on the last year. Absorb the good and the bad, what you've learned and how you've grown. It feels good, and starts your next year off on the right note.

I'm glad I'm alive, I'm glad you're alive too.