My History With Depression

Inspired by a post by my favorite female blogger Joanna Goddard, I want to open up about this experience.


People might view me now as this bookish person, who usually has a sunny disposition, and mostly likely was a straight "A" or "B" student all through school.

That's where people would be very wrong.



When I was in Elementary School, I was the brown-noser.  I just liked hearing praise from my teachers when I got answers right.  I had horrible second and third grade teachers, who never praised me, they just constantly cut me down.  So, I always strove to do things to the best of my ability in fourth and fifth grade, which got me in trouble with classmates.  But even in Elementary School, there were subjects that would be my downfall throughout the rest of my school years. And that class was Math.  I never got it.  Never understood it, and my teachers tried in vain to help me grasp it.

When Elementary School ended, it was time for the big leagues.  And anyone who was not popular in school will vouch for the fact that those bullies you encountered in Elementary School are nothing compared to the people you meet in Middle School.  I encountered mine in the first few months of sixth grade.  I lived a literal five minute walk from Middle School, and to get there, I had to walk a catwalk over an aqueduct to get to the main street to go to school.

This seventh or eighth grade girl, Desiree and her friends decided that the catwalk I (and countless others) used to get to school in the morning would be their hangout to smoke their morning cigarettes, and pick on the weaker kids (me).  Every morning, it was a gamble of whether or not they would be there.  You always knew when they were, since you could smell the Marlboros from quite a distance.  And on those mornings when they were there, they would stop me and say mean things.  I only really remember them asking me to have a cigarette with them.  And since I'd just graduated from D.A.R.E. that June, I knew I had "self-esteem" and that they couldn't persuade me to do anything I didn't want to do.  Of course, I was a stupidly naive twelve-year old, and because I was extremely shy, strangers or very intimidating people scared the hell out of me.  I started begging my mom to walk me to school in the morning, so that Desiree would leave me alone.  And she indulged me, for about a week.  But inevitably, I had to face Desiree on my own. And it was a struggle, but I made it. And Desiree and her friends stopped using the catwalk, probably because they were caught by the Truant Officers.

Anyway, I deviated from my story.  In sixth grade, my grades took a huge plummet.  They were never really excellent, but I was literally failing every class, except P.E.  My English/History (same teacher), Math, and Science teachers called my parents in for a meeting to discuss my issues before class started.  I sat outside my Basic Ed class that whole meeting, wondering what they were saying.  My Math teacher (who creeped me out from Day 1) said I had A.D.D. (not ADHD), and my other two teachers basically stated they might have the same idea, since I always seemed to be in my own little world when I was in class.  So my parents, sent me to see a Psychologist.  This "Doctor" was a total jerk, and didn't have the demeanor you'd expect for a Children's Psychologist.  He asked me to draw a picture of me, standing in front of a house.  I could draw anything else I wanted, however big I wanted it, but those two elements had to be part of it.  When he analyzed my drawing, he asked me rather evilly why I had drawn myself so small in the picture.  I didn't know why, and his tone made me withdraw further into myself.  And so I was prescribed Ritalin, which made me turn into a flaming bitch on wheels.  I was prescribed another medication, something that started with a "D", but it made me basically catatonic at home, so my mom just stopped the whole medicating thing.

And my school life was pretty much like this through high school.  I don't know how I managed to graduate from the Eighth grade, but I did.  And I promised myself, High School was going to be different. I was going to buckle down and work hard.

But the pattern soon repeated.  And I had really caring teachers, who were invested in my learning and wanted to help me.  But I pretended like nothing was wrong, and I continued to suck.  In my Sophomore year, I was assigned a Mentor, if I wanted one.  Since I felt forced to accept this, I did. And unsurprisingly, I was doing much better in school.  My teachers noticed the change, and my World History First Semester had nothing but good things to say about me.  I even earned an award, which I never received, since I didn't want the whole school seeing me get it, and make fun of me like they did since Elementary School.  After Christmas vacation and First Semester finals, I had the opportunity to continue with my Mentor, but I lulled myself into false security, and said I could hash out the rest of the semester by myself.

And that's when my world turned to shit.

I had made this great friend in Volleyball class, and I was sad that I wouldn't see him everyday in class, since First Semester was over.  I met my crush since the Eighth grade in Second Semester Badminton class role call, and was excited that we might smooth over this rift we had since the beginning of the school year as well as the heartbreak I felt when I saw him at Homecoming with this blonde girl.  As fate would have it, she was also in our class.  And I was going through this dumb stage where I heard music in my head, and I danced to it in class.  And I cringe remembering this, because that damn blonde girl pointed it out to him, and he never looked at me the same again.  When you're sixteen, and you're in "love" with this guy, something as trivial as a blonde girl pointing out your idiosyncrasies to your crush is just damning.

And I got my revenge, in an obscure way.  One day, we had a "match."  Fifteen-to-twenty minute round-robin matches with several teams in class.  One day, it was him and her, me and my partner.  She served the birdie, but it was he and I who volleyed most of the match.  Our partners tried in vain to get a hit in, but something was going on between us in that moment. He would try and use his height to his advantage, but since I'd just finished Volleyball, I was able to jump several feet in the air.  His team ultimately won, but something had changed between us.  I was angry, and the world just got darker from that moment.

My grades once again plummeted, except in P.E., where you cannot really fail unless you don't participate.  I stopped doing homework, classwork was boring, and I just lost interest in school.  I had my best friend, I had an ally in each class (except P.E.), so I was never lonely, but I just couldn't shake this hatred or darkness that loomed around me.  And with the situation with that guy, my best friend starting to date, my family seeming to never to get off my back about everything, and thinking about going to college; I just was overwhelmed.  How was I supposed to get into college with atrocious grades like mine?  Not even Palomar Community College would accept my grades as acceptable for admission.

And one night, it just exploded.

I was sitting on the couch, no doubt listening to my Neon Ballroom CD with my headphones on, trying to do my homework.  My family was in the dining room, talking and just being loud.  I asked them nicely to be quiet, so that I could get my homework finished.  Of course, they told me to go to my room, which was right off the dining room so it wouldn't have been that much of a change. And my younger sister who has been a thorn in my side since forever it seems, just kept pushing the envelope.  My parents just let her sit there and continue saying mean things.  I just lost it.  I walked into the kitchen, and ripped a bottle of Advil out of the cabinet (I know now my choice of pills was not a smart one, but I was sixteen), and threatened to down them.  My father called me a psychotic bitch, and banished me to my room.  I called my best friend, and told her what had just happened.  And we spent an hour sobbing on the phone to each other.

And my blackness ended then and there, for the time being.  That was February, 2000.  My friend's mom died not too soon after that moment from cancer, and I moved 3,000 miles across country in June.  The darkness came back again on the move, and it stayed there until I started school in September.  I wasn't depressed the entirety of my Junior year, but it started again after I left school to get my G.E.D.  That September; 9/11 happened, and six days after that my paternal grandfather died.  This man, who was a huge light in my life, was no longer there.  Never again would I hear his voice saying my name, or hear his laughter ring in my ears.  I was in a haze the week leading up to his funeral, and on the day of his burial I just was in disbelief that he had died.

I entered the depression again in 2003, when I was let go from my first job.  When you're unemployed in a small town without many jobs, and you live in a place that rarely sees much sunlight for up to six months at a time, it messes with your head.  My sister started dating who would eventually become her ex-husband in 2004, and this messed me up.  I was the oldest, I should be dating.  The fog lifted for about three or four months starting March of 2005, especially when I went to Cape Cod for a few days around my 22nd birthday.  It kind of plummeted for a bit when my sister got engaged in August, but I didn't stay sad for long.

The end of the dark period of my life began in October 2005.  I started working at TJ Maxx as Christmas help.  I was close to my training associate, and in December of that year, I "met" the guy who would throw my life into a tailspin for several months.

All my adolescence and some of my adulthood, I didn't think I was very pretty.  Despite that on the day I got a new haircut in May 2005, and was coming out of the salon with my mom, a guy literally walked by me and stopped dead in his tracks and did a second take, I just didn't see myself as pretty.  This guy, who had been talking to me for maybe two weeks, told me I was "a beautiful girl."  And from that day, I viewed myself in a different light.

And I have my bad days, where I just feel like shit, and I don't always feel good about myself.  And I went into a depression of sorts when he broke off things with us after two dates, but I pulled myself out of it.  With the help of my baby sister, who bless her heart, listened and watched me go from happy to sad in a blink of an eye because of him for several months.  Music and my job were also big helps in the recovery department.  Getting hit on sometimes several times a day helped you get out of a funk on occasion, and I had friends to make me laugh at work.

I still get depressed.  Usually around Christmas, which I associate with being in a relationship, but it lasts a couple of days at the most.

Depression is totally serious, and it's not something you can control or push away.  It lingers, and it consumes you like a fire.  If you or someone you know is depressed, please seek or help them seek help.