In some respects it started in 1999 when I was diagnosed with depression and put on medication. But in reality it started many years earlier, before I was old enough to know what depression was. Being a shy child and moving from one state to another every few years, I was usually lonely and isolated. It’s hard to be happy when you have no close friends, and move just as soon as you start to fit in. I remember being quite young and crying to my mom, “I feel like nobody loves me.” Of course I was loved, and I knew that, but there was some unexplainable unhappiness within me. I suppose if I’d been born a few years later I would have been medicated as a child.
Junior high and high school brought new tortures. Anyone who was quiet, smart, or a little different was victim to numerous bullies. The school bus was the worst. Since mine was the last stop, the seats were mostly filled and the few that remained were obstinately refused to be yielded. Even kids several years younger than me would take the opportunity to prove they were too cool for someone like me. I begged to go to a Christian school or to be home schooled, but that was not allowed. It didn’t help that I skipped 7th grade and thus ended up a grade higher than the kids who had been my friends, and a year younger than all my classmates. The blessing was that it meant I could get out of that atmosphere a year sooner. I'm glad that was before the days of school shootings, because some of my classmates would have followed the trends.
Attending a Christian college was a little better in that I found many people with similar interests and beliefs. But there were some difficulties there too. My junior year I was selected to be an Resident Assistant, but the experience was so overwhelming for me that I was forced to resign due to my depression. I was also forced to see a counselor for a few sessions, but I didn’t get much out of it because I was so resentful at being there. I did manage to survive as an RA for my senior year however. One of the memories that still makes me cringe is that at the end of the year, my Resident Director, who had known me for four years, told me that she’d always thought of me as “just another student” even though I had thought we were closer than that. After all, I had even worked one summer with her at a Pioneer Girls camp. She also told me that she felt our relationship was like rough sandpaper. Reflecting on it now, I truly believe she was dealing with some emotional problems of her own, and probably didn’t realize the wounding power of her words.
Whether from coincidence or intuition, my senior research project was on the biological function of antidepressants (long since outdated). Now that I’ve had some personal experience with several different antidepressants, I realize how variable they are from one person to another, and even variable at different times for the same person. I’ve been on at least 6 different meds over the years, often two at the same time. I’ve also had a couple different anti-anxiety meds. In my own case, I think the major cause is chemical insufficiencies in my brain; however, I know that circumstances, events, and beliefs can also play a roll in feelings of wellbeing.
I’ve been through some counseling in years past that has helped me to look at things a little differently. Sometimes I know I should reconsider my perspective on issues, but I don’t always want to do that. At times it feels easier to live with depression than to take steps to resolve the issues that may be contributing to it. It’s especially hard when there are other people involved--people I don’t want to confront about their lack of cooperation and communication, or people I don’t want to hurt by questioning whether they are doing the right thing in the right way. And I also don’t want to be seen as an irritant by complaining too often about things that don’t seem quite right to me. I don’t know if it is related to my job and/or gifts of wisdom and discernment, but I frequently feel like I have a unique perspective on things that are happening. I always hope that someone else sees the same picture so that I don’t have to be the one to defend my perspective. I’ve been shot down in groups a couple times for voicing my opinion, so I usually just keep it to myself. Ironically, in the two instances that come to mind, the group leader specifically asked me for my opinion and then turned it around to make me sound like a heretic.
Those are just a few of the factors that have made me who I am today. In general I would say that I am content with who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. My only desire is that I would be more conscious of dwelling in Christ and that His joy may complete in me.
