Quick Read-Up on My Depression
I wasn’t born with depression. I was born with a tendency towards it. But I never imagined I would actually get it.
I was in school for teaching for three and a half years. I had come to the point where I knew teaching wasn’t for me, but I had a grant that would turn into a loan if I didn’t come out a teacher. So I was doing the responsible thing and working my hardest at it. Only one teacher knew I was struggling with my life choice. I had a plan to come out a teacher, finish my obligations, then do what I will hopefully would have decided by then that I want to do. My future was set.
I went into student teaching. My cooperating teacher made me do my first lesson really quickly. I did awful. It was rushed and I still didn’t know the kids very well. I wasn’t comfortable bossing them around without even knowing them.
That night, three days in, I got a phone call. My cooperating teacher had told an official third party that I was no longer welcome in her classroom. I figured out later that that was the e-mail she had sent that afternoon after my lesson. No “goodbye.” No explanations. Just, “don’t come back.” I had three days of nothingness to figure out what the school was going to do for me. Certainly my plan was still going to go through. I didn’t have depression, yet.
Finally, it was time to go to the meeting to decide what to do with me. The officiates (including the one teacher that knew of my struggles) had been talking before I got there. As if I were some child that needed to be spoken about, not with. I walked in, and I was spoken at. She made it sound like I was being spoken with. Letting me say a few things. But the final decision was Ms. Boss-Lady’s. And what was it? Kick me out of the program!
I went through Hell and back. But I still didn’t have depression.
I was about three months into my new major, English. I had a huge project I needed to do one weekend because the next weekend I was going home to a convention. I woke up that Saturday morning, and I just didn’t care. I didn’t care about my homework. I didn’t care that it wasn’t going to be done in time if I didn’t do it. I just didn’t care.
The apathy was debilitating. I wasn’t able to do any work. Naturally, this was concerning. So I called a counselor. She said “depression.” I said “no way!” But I did as she asked and called my doctor. He, too, said “depression.” I was put on Abilify, and I was able to complete my homework in time. But ever since then, things have gotten worse. And better. And worse. This blog is all about how I’m dealing with this new debilitator in my life.