I didn’t fully realize that I was depressed until college. Rest assured though, I exhibited warning signs long before then. During high school, I passed my depression off as teenage angst and covered it with biting sarcasm. The excitement of high school life, the extreme highs and lows that typify early adulthood hid the symptoms that became so obvious later in life.
It wasn’t until 3 years into college that I realized what was truly going on. After the major life events of my late teens and early twenties had occurred: living on my own, serious relationships beginning and ending, choice of major and first idea of a life direction, I began to realize I wasn’t like my peers. I would stay in bed regardless of deadlines or consequences. I would choose being alone and sad over being with friends and trying to fake happiness. I let things that I knew I truly enjoyed go by the wayside. In short, I did very little other than exist. It wasn’t until a long conversation with a friend that I realized something was wrong.
Seeking help was difficult, but required. The Protestant work ethic and Midwestern approach of tackling a problem kicked in and I went through the paces of psychiatrist and psychologist appointments. Deep down, I didn’t think it would work and didn’t know if I wanted it to work. Depression was an easy way to cover my faults and short-comings. Without that excuse, it would be me alone to stand for my actions and that was frightening. Still, I took the medication I was prescribed and…nothing happened.
At least it didn’t feel that way at first. I expected “happiness” to come galloping in and save me from wallowing in the mire as I had for several years. What I felt was only a slight elevation in my mood. Soon, I came to realize what I was given was a new baseline. Previously, my baseline mood was so low that even tremendous and exciting events would only barely bring me to where I believed others were. Medication allowed me to have a more mentally advantageous starting place from which I could more positively and accurately evaluate what was happening around me.
My revolution was understanding that it was still up to me to adjust and control my emotions from day to day. Medication allowed me to do so from a better frame of mind but didn’t, by itself, solve any problems. I still needed to do the work and figure out what I truly enjoyed. I still was required to face difficult issues head on and self-correct afterward, even if the outcome wasn’t to my advantage. As I contemplated my life and the world around me, I needed to adjust where my priorities laid and make the changes I thought required to keep an even keel.
Revolution defined is a fundamental change in your way of thinking, a paradigm shift. My change was dramatically humanist; I have agency, I can critically think and I reject the dogma or superstition of mental health concerns that society as a whole, holds. We all have the power to change. It is easy to be intellectually lazy, to wait for results to come to you, to feel resigned to your condition or hide behind the cowardly notion of others being required to take you how you are. Find your new baseline through medication or otherwise and begin to move forward. You don’t need a significant amount of help, you aren’t broken beyond repair, and it’s not too late. I want to share in this revolution with you and assist if I can. The world is a much better place with your participation, ideas, joy, and love. I look forward to sharing in all of that and more with you.
Trevor