My life stopped! I just couldn’t get out of bed. I remember how it began. It was 2012, I was 22 and already a year behind my peers, due to the fact that I never quite understood economics and in turn failed my first year. To add insult to injury, I found out that I would be graduating with a 2:2. It honestly felt as though I had lost the key to unlock the next door of great opportunity and I couldn’t call a damn locksmith. My sense of self-worth was reliant on my sense of achievement. But this time, I felt like I hadn’t achieved anything, I felt defeated.
Nonetheless, I reluctantly attended the graduation ceremony with my family. A day later I posted a picture-perfect photo of myself beaming with delight on Facebook – desperate for the validation it offered. But, I wasn’t delighted at all. I soaked in the congratulatory messages, the “bright dings of pseudo-pleasure”, that only lasted an instant.
Time passed and I spent the majority of my summer searching and applying for graduate jobs in every sector imaginable. The more locked doors I ran into, the worse I started to feel. The 2:2 was my trigger and it hovered over my head like a dark cloud. Rejection emails, not receiving a call back and the interest that continued to rise on my student debt only furthered my feelings of inadequacy. This wasn’t how I imagined life as a graduate. This wasn’t how I imagined life at all.
Thomas Curran and Andrew Hill recently conducted a study published in the journal Psychological Bulletin, which examined 40,000 American, Canadian and British millennials just like me. The research found that, this generation feels “overburdened with a perfectionist streak”. For many of us, the pressure to meet increasingly high standards and expectations account for our age group’s record-setting levels of mental-health issues, including anxiety, depression and eating disorders, as reported by the World Health Organization.
Falling into depression is hard to come to terms with, and even harder to explain. Somehow, you never see it coming, and for a long while you’re in denial. I would attempt work, but my presence was of no value. I noticed that my symptoms started to play out in my body, and spent months in and out of my local GP with worrisome digestive problems. They suggested ‘talking therapy’, but my pride allowed me to continually disown my internal issues. To the outside world, my smiley selfies and ever-joyous demeanour made it seem as though my life was #actualgoals! But, I spent long nights crying myself to sleep, and in the mornings, I just couldn’t get out of bed.
I wasn’t okay.
I had lost interest in almost everything and seldom remembered the day of the week, let alone left my house. I couldn’t stand socialising with my friends, because it meant having to pretend that I was fine. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I would purposefully watch my phone ring or pretend that I never saw a message. But the “strong” front I displayed seemed to be working quite well, so I kept it up.
My mood swings were insane and there was only so much I could blame on my dramatic periods and oscillating gemini star sign. I was sad. I had hit a new life-low that was beginning to show up in everything.
You see, when dealing with depression you aren’t the only one that suffers.
My family felt the remnants of my pain in my attitude towards them, but they couldn’t cure it, or confront me about it. I was on a silent warpath, socially withdrawn even at home, where I would spend days in my room, getting lost in a novel or binging on a Netflix series. Occasionally, changing position to move from my bed to a familiar spot on my floor, where I hoped I would find the solace I constantly craved.
Looking back on the family meetings that my mum would often orchestrate, you would think that we were on an episode of Dr Phil. My parents happen to be trained Executive Coaches, so to my annoyance, the meetings would divert to discussing me and my ‘gremlins’. It was a constant battle, but who better to hear your pain than your family right? We would always end with a prayer, subsiding how I felt for a moment. But, there were many times that I couldn’t pray. I was angry at God.
In writing this story, I’ve felt like I’m not in the best position to discuss my mental health, as it’s still a constant work in progress. Last year, my family experienced a tragic loss and I found myself crawling back into my dark place. Yet this time, somehow, in the midst of the pain I felt, I was able to find my light and tap into my purpose – starting The L8 Bloomers.
So, here’s the advice I will give:
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Don’t pretend to be okay. A Harvard Health study found that there are greater benefits to your psychological health, when accepting thoughts and feelings of frustration or upset — rather than trying to pretend. One of the first steps is awareness.
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Open up and talk about it, whether it’s to a professional or a confidante, don’t hold it in. You do yourself and others a disservice when you lack vulnerability. Now is a greater time than ever to use your true story to convert your deepest pain to your greatest victory. So, do you unapologetically, it’s a waste of time trying pretend to be someone else.
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Don’t get lost in your negative story. Acknowledge this life phase as a momentary pause, even though it feels like forever. As my mum always says, “change your narrative, and stop getting in your own way”. Accept that life isn’t perfect, and even the strongest of us can have the toughest times.
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Remember that happiness is not the absence of problems, it’s the ability to deal with them head on. Make happiness a habit that you practice every day, and try to find a healthy way to take control of your life. I do this most mornings, by listening to a Steven Furtick podcast, to help launch me into my day and remind me that my faith is much stronger than my fears.
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Find your light at the end of the tunnel. When you find yourself in a low and dark place, don’t sleep there. Find ways to cultivate a passion you may not even know you have. For me, this is writing. It’s a great way for me to express myself and find an outlet for my depression. For some people this outlet might be music, food or even going to the gym. Find what works for you and allow it to help you work through your problems.
I write this story because I feel that there is an unspoken beauty in the fact that it’s incomplete. I only now feel free to say “I wasn’t okay!” and appreciate that that’s okay too. I no longer feel othered or stigmatised, because I know that there are many young people just like me, and we don’t need statistics to recognise this fact.
Still, we bloom.
