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Mar. 10th, 2016 12:06 amI was looking through the diaries I kept in my junior and senior college years (looking for the username of this person I knew). I think I've always been depressed. In one diary I talk about 'my miserable life'; well, how miserable was it, objectively? I was in college on full scholarship, and I probably had more friends and companionship and freedom than I've ever had in my life. But I was unable to appreciate it.
I think that when the depression started to manifest, friends took it as an aspect of my personality... one which they did not find particularly desirable. So I did my best to stop whining about how unhappy I was. But that didn't fix anything. I sought counseling once while at the university; and after a consultation, was told I seemed to be holding up pretty well, and that there wasn't any need for me to return for treatment. I think this diagnosis had more to do with the limited mental health resources of the university than my state of mind.
Depression wasn't commonly understood as a legitimate illness at the time. I just accepted it as how I was; after years, I didn't question it. But again, that didn't fix anything. When my life is otherwise comfortable or secure, it's something I can largely ignore. But when things get rough, they get very rough inside my head.
I'm trying to figure out how I'll do something for it. At least now I know I ought to seek treatment.
[I don't mean to suggest I concluded this on the basis of an old diary. A friend has gotten me to accept that my despair and lack of self-esteem are in fact depression... it seems obvious now.]
I think that when the depression started to manifest, friends took it as an aspect of my personality... one which they did not find particularly desirable. So I did my best to stop whining about how unhappy I was. But that didn't fix anything. I sought counseling once while at the university; and after a consultation, was told I seemed to be holding up pretty well, and that there wasn't any need for me to return for treatment. I think this diagnosis had more to do with the limited mental health resources of the university than my state of mind.
Depression wasn't commonly understood as a legitimate illness at the time. I just accepted it as how I was; after years, I didn't question it. But again, that didn't fix anything. When my life is otherwise comfortable or secure, it's something I can largely ignore. But when things get rough, they get very rough inside my head.
I'm trying to figure out how I'll do something for it. At least now I know I ought to seek treatment.
[I don't mean to suggest I concluded this on the basis of an old diary. A friend has gotten me to accept that my despair and lack of self-esteem are in fact depression... it seems obvious now.]
