I am posting this because I feel like it is something that people don't know about or talk about and I finally feel like I am in a good place to talk about things. Some of you may already know about this but I think it is something everyone can hear about and maybe not relate to, but I hope it brings some understanding. I'm not posting this for pity because I've worked through most of it and I am in a good place now. I'm posting it because I think it is important for all of us to think about.
When I went to college I had an amazing freshman year. I met great people and had a wonderful boyfriend. I love UM. Unfortunately, during the summer between freshmen and sophomore years something changed. For whatever reason I became incredibly depressed. I started withdrawing from all of my friends and my boyfriend. In fact, it got so bad that my boy decided that he didn't want to be with me because I just wasn't myself anymore. Over first semester things just became worse and worse until finally I spent most of my time by myself in my room, not coming out for meals or even class.
Heather and Eric were two of the few bright spots in my life. Both tried so very hard to be my friends during this tough time I love you both forever for this. During this period of my life, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in the cor nor of my room and cry. I spent many hours of my life either crying or sleeping. Sleeping way my relief from life.
Eventually, it was Christmas time. My parents were incredibly worried about me but I insisted on going back to school at UM. I love Montana and it has been so good for me. I had a few good things in my life. One of the few classes I went to on a regular basis way the Advocate class. I loved the feeling I got from this class.
I slipped further and further into depression. This was not the "Oh, I'm having a bad day" depression. This was the "I can never see an end to this, nothing is every going to get better depression." I hated myself and I could not see an end to the pain in my life. My Mom came out and spent a week with me in February in the dorms. I was seeing different psychologists at the time and trying different anti depressants trying to get better. I was seeing a doctor almost every day but it wasn't getting better. But I as still unable to get out of bed and attend class. I think the hardest part was that I was getting medical treatment but it wasn't helping.
My Mom went home, hoping and praying that I would be okay. I amazed that my parents did not rip me out of school at that point. I could not function. I was not going to class. I was not eating. I was barely leaving my dorm room.
On February 26, 1999, I swallowed bunch of aspirin followed by some vodka. I woke up very late on the 27. Nothing had changed. The horrible feelings had not gone away. All I wanted was for the horrible feelings of sorrow and dark, dark darkness to leave me. I spent hours and hours curled up in the corner of my room. I hurt internally and externally. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stand to be awake. I just wanted everything to go away and to not hurt anymore. On the night of the 27th I took every pill I had left in my room and finished a fifth of vodka. I left a message on my outgoing answering machine for my parents.
The next day my parents called and receive my answering machine message. I picked up during the message and tried to pass off what they had heard. I broke my parents hearts at this point. They were in WA and were hearing that their daughter had given up on life. Thankfully, (although at the time I did not thing so), they got my RA on the phone and she came and forced me to open the door. My parents and RA contacted Health Services, which referred me to the local mental health authorities. The police came to get me and escorted me and my RA to the mental health hospital in town.
I was admitted "voluntarily." I'm still not sure how you can be admitted voluntarily when your blood acholhal level and drug levels were as high as mine were. Because I admitted myself "voluntarily," I was not able to check out until my doctor said I was stable. I spent about a week locked on the psych ward in Missoula.
The worst thing I have ever done in my life was what I did to my parents for that day. They had to leave their jobs in WA, thinking their child had wanted to kill herself, drive eight hours to MT and find their daughter in a psych ward. The worst moment in my life was walking down the hallway to meet my parents at the check in desk. I knew I had hurt them so badly, but I hurt so badly, internally and externally, that I couldn't help it.
Lucky for me I had a private room for most of the time. I had taken my contacts out so a lot of my visit seemed to be a blur and of course mentally I was not in a good place. I remember the student nurse from MSU was very nice and understanding. I bottomed out at 103 pounds. There is a picture of me at Advocate Retreat around this time and I am just skin and bones. I remember getting to order my choice of breakfast, lunch and dinner choices. Our "physical therapy" classes were like the "Sit and Be Fit" on PBS. Including paper plates. It was pathetic. For the first day or two, all I wanted to do was sleep.
There was one girl my age in there. She told my that I just needed to tell the doctors what they wanted to hear and I could get out of there. I did. All I wanted was to get out of there so that I could to the job right and be done with this hurt forever. Please don't think this was because of a boy. It wasn't. I was feeling bad way before the boy ever broke up with me. It was probably why he broke up with me. Not that that helped. It was an internal hurt. Nothing made things better.
The strange thing was while I was hurting so badly, I did have a Spring Break trip planned with Jenna. She even came to visit me in the hospital for a bit. I will love her forever for being able to do that. It was definitely not an easy thing to do or a very normal place to visit. I was able to convince my doctors that I wanted to go on this trip and that I didn't want to hurt myself again. After about a week, I was officially released. I still hurt so badly but I wanted out of this horrible environment.
Thankfully, the doctors had been tinkering with my meds and found something that worked better than before. I went on my Spring Break trip and eventually my Effexor antidepressant kicked in. I firmly believe my depression is a chemical problem. My brain was not working right. Once the meds kicked in, I became myself again. I know that meds aren't the solution to every problem, but for me it definitely was a chemical problem.
I am doing much better now. It has been over ten years since that time and the meds are definitly working. I am convinced that I have a chemical imbalance in my brain and that led to my problems. I am once again Suzanne. I am the person you all know and love. I am not the girl cowering in the corner of her dorm room, cringing from the internal and external pain in her life.
Depression is a physical problem. If you or a loved one are hurting, please know there is help. I didn't believe this. I thought I was trying to solve my problem. But the therepy and the first drugs didn't help. Please, please, please seek help and keep looking for help until you feel better. I've found over the years that this is something people don't talk about. But my problem is just as real as that of a diabetic. Both of us have unbalanced chemical levels in our body and both can destroy lives.
As much as I knew I had friends and family who loved me, it wasn't enough when my brain was telling me otherwise. Please remember, none of use have a complete idea of what is happending in others lives. We all have hurts that we may share or we may not. Love one another and don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it. I am myself again today because I was finally able to get help. I love you!
