If you’re reading this, the feeling you’re feeling right now does not have to be permanent.
When I was in high school, I did it all. I took multiple advanced classes, leadership roles in all of the clubs, played two sports, received good grades, dated the quarterback of the football team, gave the commencement speech at graduation, and officially decided to go out of state to attend the University of South Carolina. After reading that, you might think I was living the perfect life, but that was far from the truth. I first struggled with my mental health during my sophomore year of high school. At that time, the stigmas surrounding mental health still lingered in the air. I told my mom that I didn’t need therapy, because I was not depressed. I was not going to let something so “small”, such as sporadic sadness, control me. However, the powerful emotions eventually took over without me even realizing it, and I re-considered my mom's advice. This is when I met Melissa. Melissa, my phenomenal therapist, worked with me throughout high school. She helped to make me more situationally aware of my emotions and how to cope accordingly. I learned how to work through trauma, to be more in touch with my emotions, and to find closure within myself. This experience inspired me to pursue my dream career.
I thought, at this point, I had succeeded. I had struggled but succeeded. I felt like I was now a REAL advocate for mental health because I had actually been through it. Phew, I was glad it was over. I could now go off to college and pursue this new and adventurous chapter of my life.
But it was truly far from over.
Halfway through my freshman year of college, I found myself falling into a depression. A demoralizing feeling that had never been introduced to me before. It amazed me how quickly I seemed to dislike myself, where I was, who I spent time with, and what I was doing; how I seemed to question every aspect of my life. A life that, a few months prior, I was counting down the days to jump into - I now hated. I watched myself through a third-person lens for weeks: walking around campus, eating lunch, going to the gym, interacting with other people, and even watching tv. I was unattached to my body, my emotions, and myself. I would cry at times when I could not control it. This feeling consumed me. I did not tell anyone this was how I felt; not because I didn’t want help, but because I was so disconnected from the world around me. It was one night when I was in my dorm, by myself, I realized that this paralyzing feeling was not me; and more importantly, not who I wanted to be forever. The next day, I mustered up the courage to pick up the phone. I had not yet told my mom, my number one supporter, and best friend, how broken I felt. As soon as I heard the sound of her voice, from 1000 miles away, I couldn’t help but sob.
I could no longer ignore the tears; they were drowning me.
She recommended that I reach out to Melissa, my high school therapist. When I did, we spoke on the phone for hours. She had recognized that my feelings were symptoms of depression. Both Melissa and I were able to work together the next few months to get to a place where I was able to finally recognize myself. It was not a perfectly linear process. It was extremely difficult at times. Day-by-day, the brokenness began to heal and I was Bailey again.
If you're reading this - I hope to relay, from my own experience, that sometimes it’s not that we do not want to ask for help, but we might not recognize we need it. Isolating ourselves and forgetting to check in on our own mental health can only further exacerbate the problem. However, being able to communicate our feelings with those around us becomes the first step in eventually finding yourself again. If you’re reading this, take time to check in on yourself and your emotions. This feeling that may be consuming you, does not have to be permanent.
-Bailey B., University of South Carolina Class of ‘23
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