It was Christmas break 2011. A group of us planned to do two
things: see the lights at Temple Square and go ice skating. I remember coming
up to the ice rink and freezing. Not because it was rather cold outside, but
because I was having an anxiety attack.
Anxiety attacks were not new to me at this point, but they
also weren’t something I understood yet. I didn’t know how to handle them. I
wasn’t even sure if they were anxiety attacks.
Anyway, as we walked towards the ice rink, I slowed down.
Fun was about to happen. With people I really enjoyed spending time with. A lot
of people. And I shouldn’t be allowed to experience something like that.
So, I backed out. I ran away from fun. Instead, I went to
Panda Express and, for the first time ever, ate the entire meal using only chopsticks.
It was quite an accomplishment for me.
That night, I wrote in my journal about how much I’d grown. “Now,
I at least go,” I wrote. I might not have gone ice skating, but I went with the
group, I made it to Salt Lake. That was a huge accomplishment for me. More so
than the chopsticks.
I’ve never been good in groups. But I honestly enjoy being
around people. I enjoy social events. However, I’m not good at them and they
are exhausting. I’m awful at meeting new
people. I often get carried away when trying to introduce myself. I either say
absolutely nothing or I go overboard and tell this stranger everything from my
favorite flavor of gum to the age and hair color of all my siblings.
The semester leading up to this Christmas break was a game
changer for me. I made a new best friend – one who hadn’t grown up in the same
town as me. I invited dozens of people to my apartment each week so that I
could make them tacos. I even walked right up to a guy I was interested in and
told him I liked him. I finished writing a children’s story and it wasn’t even
for an assignment. I had a consistent group of friends – a support group I knew
I could turn to. For the first time in my life, I realized that I could care
deeply for people who weren’t family.
I couldn’t handle it though. Many nights were spent
wandering around the campus, iPod playing depressing music, tears coming down
my face. It overwhelmed me. To think that I was making friends? People were
enjoying spending time with me? I was having fun away from my family? And, the
weirdest part of all, I seemed to be okay with it? This wasn’t right.
Just writing about it now is overwhelming me. My stomach is
tight, a heavy pressure is resting on my chest, my palms are sweaty, my breathing
is heavy and quick.
So, anxiety. It’s real. I deal with it every day. It has
prevented me from making friends, from spending time with the friends I’ve
actually managed to make, and many more things.
Something else is real. Depression. It seems that these
things are often linked. I rarely hear someone bring up one without mentioning
the other. I don’t normally talk about how I deal with both every day. But I
do.
Four years ago, when I walked towards an ice rink in Salt
Lake, something told me I didn’t deserve to have fun. I wasn’t sure what to
think or what I was feeling. So I left.
In order for me to enjoy life, I have to be completely aware
of my emotions. I need to know what I’m feeling – if I’m feeling happy, sad,
angry, indifferent… If I don’t know, then I can’t respond to the age old
question of “how are you?” Saying “I’m good” would be a lie. And, you see, I
can’t lie if I don’t know the truth.
Depression doesn’t mean I can’t ever feel happiness. My
happiness just comes in spurts. I’ll be happy for about two minutes, then
something will whisper in the back of my mind that I don’t deserve to feel that
happiness. I’m able to fight it off. I know how to push it down and not dwell
on it. Sometimes, it is a quick battle and I can bring the happiness back in
just a few minutes. Other times, it takes longer. But, the point is, I’m not
sure I currently know what it feels like to be happy for longer than two
minutes.
Is that normal? Are most people able to feel happiness for
longer than two minutes? Does everyone else have to battle the depression voice
telling them they have to be sad?
There is one type of happiness that I feel is an exception
to this. That happiness comes from God. It’s a feeling of peace, of comfort.
When sitting in the temple, I don’t have to fight the voice telling me I can’t
be happy. When reading my scriptures, I don’t have to feel anxious about life.
I mentioned that I know how to fight it off. It comes from
using the Atonement. Christ didn’t just suffer for my sins, He suffered for
this depression I’m feeling, for the anxiety I feel. He knows what it is like
to struggle to have control over your emotions. He knows because He felt it. He
went through it for me.
So, when that voice whispers that I shouldn’t be happy,
another voice whispers back that happiness is possible. I know that one day I’ll
be able to experience never-ending happiness (Mosiah 2:41). As I keep the
commandments, and use the atonement daily, I’m getting one step closer to that
happiness. It’s hard. Battling depression and anxiety isn’t easy. Talking about
it isn’t easy. Writing about it isn’t easy. Thinking about it isn’t easy. But,
the hope to one day be rid of this, to one day “dwell with God in a state of
never-ending happiness,” that hope is worth it.
