For me, depression is something incredibly personal to me. Even more than anxiety, depression is something that I have struggled with intimately for my entire life. The first time that I recall feeling depressed was in the sixth grade. For a large part of my eleventh year, I had persistent and painful depressive thoughts. I thought that I was worthless, that life lacked meaning, and I felt very hopeless. My parents took me to a couple of child psychologists; needless to say, none of the psychologists worked out. The first therapist tried to immediately diagnose me with OCD, asking me about my behaviors and ticking them off furiously on a note sheet, while she sat stiffed back in a formal office. The second therapist initially comforted me with her playful office and friendly demeanor, but then scared me away by asking me deeply personal questions during our second session, before we had any time to build up trust. Those two experiences scared me off therapy for a long time, and it wasn’t something that I would revisit in my life until nine years later, as a junior in college in the depths of a serious depressive spiral. 

Depression has come and gone since the sixth grade. More than anything else in mental health for me, depression has been my lifelong companion. I remember feeling depressed again during my freshman year of high school. For many months, I felt like I was unable to be truly happy. School, while stressful, provided a temporary relief by creating a distraction for my depression. Still, after college applications were submitted, I experienced a strong and profound resurgence in depression during my second semester of my senior year in high school. I remember asking myself again and again why people even had children at all. Why bring life into this world, I thought, when life was full of pain and suffering?  I could never understand how people regarded life as something sacred or precious. It is hard to underestimate how dark and low my thoughts could get during a depressive spiral, and it is harder to underestimate how indistinguishable they were to me from reality. 

In my life, certain periods of time bought a distraction from depression. Getting into a university which I wanted desperately to attend and then starting college brought me new and exciting emotions. My second semester of my freshman year of college is still to this day one of the happiest times of my life.  At the end of that semester, I traveled to Chile for a month with three other students. The trip was full of black sand beaches and red volcanos and the excitement of a new culture and freedom. I remembered thinking to myself that that was what happiness felt like. Of course, that type happiness could only ever be temporal. Three weeks into my sophomore year of college, my dear cat Lily unexpectedly died at the age of only five years old. I had loved Lily as my own child and the grief that I felt from losing her tragically and unexpectedly when I was not around to say goodbye was extremely painful and is something I still grieve about today. Her death was the catalyst for another period of depression which lasted for the rest of that semester. Towards the next semester, I tried to distract myself through various means: getting a new job in finance in New York City for the summer, taking an acting class, socializing and living it up in New York.  For a time, the distraction worked, and I was able to run away from all of the pain inside of me.

Distraction, however, can only get someone so far. The depression I experienced my first semester of my junior year of college was the most difficult depression I have ever experienced.  I had always relied on school, grades, academics, and success as a bandaid for depression. However, this time I was seriously questioning my path in life, and I didn’t know if what I was doing (chasing monetary and social success) was actually something that gave any life purpose. Without my one lifeline and purpose, I was untethered. Previously, even when depressed, I was considered high functioning. I managed to study, achieve great grades, obtain perfect test scores, snag prestigious internships, and compete at a high level in extracurricular activities. This time, I was not. I barely made it through the motions of classes and school, struggling in classes I would have previously considered easy. I had been elected the Vice President of a prestigious consulting club at my college, but I was unable to fulfill any of the responsibilities, and the other people in our executive board had to pick up all slack.  I was unable to sleep more than three hours a night for the entire semester. I spent the entire time in my own mind, searching for a meaning, searching for an explanation, searching for something, but I was looking and not finding. 

In that lowest state, I started an unhealthy relationship with one of my best friends at the time. Although the relationship collapsed, the high of falling in infatuation temporarily pulled me out of the depression for a month or two. I took a very easy course load the next semester and focused on making some new friends. The temporary high from the short lived romantic relationship actually made me  a bit more functional and I started sleeping a slightly better (although I would never recommend starting a relationship as a way to escape problems). It was in this temporary upswell that I sought out therapy, which was the first step in a long process of healing. Although I only saw my therapist for four months, she helped me retrain my negative thinking, especially my lack of self worth.  The following summer, although I had a very grueling summer internship, I also made a friend and mentor who introduced me to meditation and certain Buddhist thought patterns, which finally made me feel at peace and enabled me finally discover some meaning in life: to experience the beauty that life has to offer, to experience and engage in my curiosity, and to do my best to make the world around me a better place, both in my personal interactions and in the work that I do.

Despite that revelation, I continue to struggle with depression. It isn’t something that ever goes away. I’ve experienced smaller periods of depression since then; for instance, during August of 2019, where I noticed myself slipping into a state where I was unable to be happy. Although more recently I haven’t experienced the constant, two weeks of low mood necessary to diagnose clinical depression, I continue to frequently and regularly have depressive thoughts. However, cognitive behavioral therapy has enabled those thoughts to hold less power over me, and I’m better able to push back against the clouds of depression.  The main things that have helped in curbing depression have been, in order of importance, 1) therapy, 2) exercise, 3) sleep,  4) setting short term goals, 5) eating well, 6) meditation, 7) maintaining social connections.  Short term goals have been especially helpful to set direction in my life, and so that I know I’m working towards something to improve myself. Exercise is a powerful tool when done consistently to aid in emotional regulation. Therapy cannot be understated, and is the driving force to enable further healing.

There isn’t a nice, clean takeaway at the end of this blog post. Depression is an ugly and often deadly disease (nevertheless, there is some interesting research into how the repetitive and intrusive thought patterns that often cause depression can be evolutionarily adaptive) with which I and so many of those closest to me have wrestled and struggled. If you are struggling to cope, I will write another more detailed blog post focusing more on the healing from depression. In the meantime, therapy, exercise, and medication can a huge effect in lifting your mood, if you are able to engage in those activities. I would also recommend this book: Feeling Good by David Burns, which is often hailed as the standard of depression treatment, and formed the cornerstone for my treatment in my junior year. More than anything I hope this blog post helps you realize that you are not alone in your darkness.