The Depression Diaries

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By: Cathy Huang

University is really depressing. Do you know what it’s like to have depression? I don’t. Or at least I thought I didn’t. But after feeling really stressed and unhappy for a few weeks, I decided I needed to go in to the Student Wellness Centre and talk to someone.

I’d just gone through a painful breakup with someone I had a lot of history with, I was struggling to stay motivated in school and was worried about being kicked out, and a sexual assault in January had actually cost me several good friends.

A few months ago I took a break from dating in an attempt to make myself happier. It did for a while. I was doing things that I enjoyed and I liked being able to focus on myself without having to worry about anyone else. Then someone from my past recently came back into my life and I didn’t want to say no. I guess I can’t say for sure that the breakup this time was painful for him, but it definitely was for me. We’d tried once before and it hadn’t worked out then, but we still had feelings for each other and maybe it was worth attempting to make it work again. It didn’t. He got tired of trying to be with me because it was too stressful for him.

It was the last thing I wanted. All of a sudden it occurred to me that my life wasn’t heading in the direction I wanted it to go and everything came crashing down on me. I had numerous breakdowns over the course of a few days and I spent a lot of time crying. Even though my friends had been incredibly supportive and wonderful, I still felt lost. It had felt like I’d run out of options and, tired of feeling helpless, I went to the drop-in hours for counselling. I sat in the waiting room with two of my friends and filled out a bunch of forms. “What do you expect to gain from speaking to a counsellor? How will you know when things are better?”

“I don’t know.”

After talking to me for only a few minutes the counsellor told me she thought I might have depression. It probably didn’t help that I cried throughout the entire consultation. She told me it seemed like I’d faced a lot of abandonment, from losing friends who just didn’t understand what I was struggling with, to catastrophic relationships, to my parents telling me I just had to push through it. I’d brought up the idea of taking a year off to them before, and mentioned that maybe university just wasn’t for me. My mom told me that no one likes schoolwork and it wasn’t easy for anyone. She insisted that I just had to graduate and get a job, and then I could pursue hobbies in my spare time. But the thing is, if I took a year off I wouldn’t get to do all the things I wanted to do next year. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. The counsellor had me make several appointments. One to see a doctor about depression who ended up putting me on antidepressants, one for the stomach aches I’d started having too frequently in the last few weeks, and one with an intern counsellor who wouldn’t even be around after April. There were no other appointments available with any permanent counsellors until the end of April anyway, and I decided I couldn’t wait a month to talk to someone.

But I wasn’t depressed. Sure, I had lost the motivation to go to class and do my assignments on time halfway through first year, but I didn’t feel sad all the time. I’d gone through several terrible relationships that had made me severely unhappy, and I’d had a few breakdowns because I had no idea what I was doing and nothing was making me happy. But I didn’t have depression. I was pursuing a degree in Psychology. I didn’t want to admit that something wasn’t right because I thought that it would make me unfit to be a psychologist. If I can’t even help myself how can I possibly expect to help other people? So I didn’t go in to see anyone. I didn’t want to be “broken,” despite the fact that most of my friends suffer from the same issues and I’d never thought that of them. I suppose you see yourself very differently than you see other people. It took me a long time to admit to myself that I wasn’t okay, and that I hadn’t been for a long time. It was hard to accept this about myself but I’m slowly starting to see that depression and anxiety aren’t things I need to be ashamed of.

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