Opinion
Spring breaking point: learning to fight back against my depression
By Caroline Harrington ’16
March 31, 2016
Tags opinion
Spring break: the time for visits with friends, expensive trips to tropical places and countless Instagram pictures of smiling people having fun. While a boozy beach was not my intended vacation destination—I was looking forward to spending two weeks training with the rowing team in scenic Tennessee—I certainly did not anticipate where I actually ended up.
Thursday night before the team was to leave, I found myself alone in an ambulance on my way to the worst place imaginable: St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. Do not get me wrong; they try their best. But, I was not seen for over 14 hours and was locked in a concrete box with my phone confiscated, because that is what mental health treatment means in this country. So after this experience, on Tuesday, Mar. 15 I checked into a partial program for depression and anxiety at Metrowest Medical Center in Natick, MA.
Let’s back up. I have been suffering from depression for a little over four years. Recently I have been struggling through a difficult relapse along with the development of depression-inducing anxiety. Though this may seem like a little too much information, I think it is important to try to be honest about my experiences. One in five adults suffer from mental health issues, diagnosed or not. My condition, so to speak, is not abnormal or rare, but I have found that accepting my disease and being honest about it is rare and often leads to criticism. There are a lot of key players in my story with loud voices trying to express what is best for me. In this process, I was shut out of the conversation—until I got to treatment.
During my eight school-like days in the partial program, I was constantly surrounded by people who have similar but often more difficult mental and emotional struggles than I do. At first I felt like I was trapped in a looney bin, in a place where I certainly did not belong. But what I found from these people who have enough difficulties of their own was a compassion and empathy that I had never felt. I loved going to treatment. I loved the people I interacted with, and I loved how they treated me like just another person. They supported me like nobody else ever had. They listened to me, and I felt heard.
Throughout treatment I learned myriad coping mechanisms and techniques to address and control my thought processes and emotions. I learned how to have diplomatic discussions, stay grounded in reality and modify distorted thoughts. What I find incredibly interesting is that all that I have discovered is completely applicable to the daily lives of many, regardless of mental state. As a person whose personal and mental life is now broadcasted, I hope I can help educate people further, not only about mental health and the stigma against it, but about ways to deal with situations more effectively.
What I struggle with now is the process of reintegration into daily life. Unlike many of the peers I met in treatment, I was excited and ready to return to reality, not fearful. But since my hospitalization, I have found that my process of a return to normalcy has been blocked and challenged. I am understanding of the fact that this hesitation comes from a place of concern and care, but I find it difficult to accept the lack of trust my peers place in me. My friends in treatment, clinicians and therapists placed their trust in me. How could I lose this trust from everyone else? More importantly, how could I lose my voice and my ability to be heard?
Ultimately it comes from a place of stigma. It is no secret that mental health is somewhat of a taboo, ignored and pushed under the rug until it is convenient to pull it out. People often think that sufferers of depression, anxiety or any other illness are incapable of functioning normally. Clearly that is untrue, as 20 percent of the population suffer and most of those people do not publicize their conditions and suffer silently.
So, is publicized mental illness something worthy of a loss of trust? Is my openness about my struggles and emotions making people uneasy and allowing them to put me under a scope? Frankly, I am not sure how to answer that question, as there are a lot of pieces at play. All I know is that the obstacles put in place by peers and administrative figures out of care and concern add an unnecessary challenge to the improvement of my mental state. Here I am, fighting for my voice, fighting to stand up for my wellbeing and still feeling like I am shouting into a void.
Since being back, I have been able to make my voice heard in a constructive way. I am gaining back my voice, step by step. Where do I go from here? I suppose, I just keep moving forward. I am thankful for the support I have received and hopefully I can prove myself worthy of being trusted. More than that, I hope that in sharing my experiences openly, I can maybe impact or help someone else who is struggling. So if you feel like you are struggling alone with no idea what to do, just know that you at least have me in your court and do not be scared to reach out.
Although I did not get the spring break I would have liked, at the very least I got what I needed: a stronger mind and a louder voice.