My Depression Story

Deep down I think I've always suffered from depression. Something has always gotten me down. In fact, one of my 7 goals to reach before I'm 30, that I wrote years ago, I wrote that I wanted to be truly happy. 

Back when I was going to girls camp, I made friends with my counselor at the camp and would email her about all the problems I faced and all the troubles I was going through. I would share with her how depressed I was and it got to the point where not only did she fear for my life, but she let my parents know what was going on. I wasn't on medicine. I wasn't seeing a therapist. She had become a sort of-therapist for me which, looking back now, wasn't fair to her. I was really down then. I contemplated all the ways to just end my young life. I was miserable. I would break into tears randomly and without control. It didn't help that it seemed to me at the time that I had no friends. 

I had friends in middle school but when I got to high school at the mere age of 13, all my friends had gone to a different school. Lucky for me I found "friends" through the choir program. But after a year, they too were gone away, to college, and I was stuck with the need to make new friends once again. I constantly was forcing myself to try to fit in, to be someone people would not only want to be friends with, but beg to be friends with. 

I felt I needed friends because without them I felt worthless. In fact, I felt worthless as is. Sometimes I still do. 

When my depression turned to pure anger and malice, I ended up hurting the people I was closest to and ruined relationships to this day I regret ruining. To my parents, especially my mother, I am sorry for breaking your heart, hurting your feelings, and betraying your trust day after day, year after year. To JeanMarie, I am sorry for treating you the way I did when I was in the stage of trying to "fit in". And to Sister Stewart, I am sorry for hurting your daughter and for treating her with such disrespect. To my seminary teachers, especially Sister Westwood, I am terribly sorry for ruining the spirit of your class and for detracting from the message you were always trying to share. I am sorry for being so rude to you, and the class. And on that note, to my seminary classmates, I am sorry for whispering, passing notes, talking bad about you, and for detracting from the spirit that you could've felt. And to all the others out there that I hurt, offended, betrayed, or abused, I am honestly sorry.

After struggling for a while, and realizing my church bishop couldn't help the issue, I finally had to see a therapist. I hated seeing someone. In fact, I felt broken. That feeling of worthlessness just increased. I also saw my doctor who put me on some anti-depressants. That helped some. But, I was still depressed. 

My freshman year was a disaster. My depression got the best of me and I was leaning on people, once again, for constant support. They were my literal life line. Without Hannah, Kelsey, and Paul, I wouldn't be here today. They were God sent. They listened to the 17-18 year old me babble on, complaining, and asking "why me?" and if I had the worst life. In that moment, I sure felt I did. Years later Paul told me that he honestly wasn't sure that when he got back from his 2-year church mission I'd even be here. That kinda hit home. I knew then that it was worse than I remembered.

When I got to BYU in Utah probably during the second half of my freshman year, I saw a doctor who finally found a medicine that helped. They also diagnosed me as being bipolar. I had never thought about being bipolar but when I got diagnosed, all the sudden I had answers!  The medicine is called Abilify. And for three years I was stable. 

That was until I chose to serve a mission myself. Sound weird? Let me explain. During those three years I got really close to God. I was in SUCH a good place. I talked with my bishop and decided I wanted to go on a church mission. He worked with me to get better and better spiritually. I also started biking, and would bike up to 17 miles a day. God was going to work miracles through me somewhere in the world, in fact, it was a miracle in itself that I was even in this good of a place based on the decade that preceded it. I attended the missionary preparation and the temple preparation classes my church offered to prepare myself for being a missionary and attending the mormon temple. Within a few months, I met with my bishop and stake president and put in my mission papers. AKA I applied to be a missionary awaiting my call to see where I would serve my mission. I never expected the phone call I got a couple weeks later. I was told that I would not be allowed to serve because of the Abilify that I was on. Apparently it is addictive and therefore isn't allowed for missionaries to take. I was told however, that if over the next 6-7 months I would switch medicines with the oversight of my doctor, and remain stable, then I would be allowed to go. 

I was hopeful. I tried medicine #1-- it made me numb. I stopped feeling any and all emotions. It was amazing how within a month of being in the best place of my life, I started shutting down.  So, I talked to my doctor and went on medicine #2-- it made me depressed. It also made me slightly suicidal. I was back to that 14 year old me. Depressed, detached, angry, malicious. So I came to the decision that I could not serve a mission. Although I was prepared and felt I had been ready... at the state I was currently in, there is no way I could serve a mission. I wasn't happy or close to God anymore. So, I went back on Abilify. But, my depression remained. As a matter of fact, the doctors I was working with put me on Zoloft as well to help my depression. 

For the next 2-3 years (up through now) my depression has remained relatively stagnant. But at least it hasn't gotten too much worse. I still have those days when I break down and feel life isn't worth living. But I won't let my depression get the best of me. I struggle more than I let on. In fact, I struggle every day. But I have hope. And one day I believe I will be resurrected and have a perfect body and spirit. So until then, I wait. We all wait. I know I'm not the only one struggling and that is another thing that keeps me going. So hold on, and if you ever need to talk, let me know. 

- J