When I turned 24, I turned crazy. Okay, so that's a little bit harsh. Quirky isn't a strong enough word. Also, many people would say that I was always… quirky. This, though, was something serious.
At nights, I found myself waking up just to worry about things. Just for that? Yes. First there was sleep, then a nightmare, then hours of tense staring into the ceiling and exhaustion the next day. Everything that I never worried about crashed down at me at the same time. The thoughts of saving for retirement, getting health insurance and dental care, along with more basic thoughts of having to get groceries and fill my gas tank made me panic. I felt as if my brain was slowing down and the world was getting faster—getting head of me.
It seemed like, if only I could just get to some mental conclusion—if only I worried hard enough, a solution would be right around the corner. Things would fall into their correct places again. Unconsciously, I ground my teeth until my jaw ached, not even realizing it until I tried to eat. Sleeping became more difficult every day. Then so did being awake. Everything bothered me. When my phone rang, I ignored it. My friends wrote letters to me, and I somehow never found the time or the will to write back. Even the thought of a conversation with another person exhausted me to the point of tears. Everything just seemed too hard to do, when only six months before, I had graduated with my Master's degree. I wasn't the person I knew myself to be.
One day, I realized I hadn't read a book in months. Or enjoyed listening to music. Or wanted to see my friends. Everything that I loved just . . . stopped.
That day, I decided to try medication. While I wasn't crying, and I didn't feel sad, this was depression—almost literal to its definition.
Within a week of taking, I felt an urge to go outside, take my dog for a walk, and look at the color of the sky. Within two weeks, I was back at the library, a book in hand. Then I realized that my friends were out there still, and I was reaching for the phone to contact them.
While medication is no cure, I feel better. My life has started again. Some day the medication will stop working, and I will have to rely on natural depression treatments: exercise, fresh air, sunshine, no drugs or alcohol, and a balanced diet. When in doubt, I reread this article by one of my fellow writers. It never fails to get me up and going again.
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