I... don't know what to feel. Certainly not happiness, no- if there was any emotion I could possibly describe right now, I would say. But mostly? I feel numb. I don't want to believe it. Yesterday, I had an appointment with a new doctor. I didn't expect much, I did ask for a physical form so then I could participate in a sport for high school, maybe do a check-up- I did a heart scan because I was complaining about lightheadedness, but I turned out fairly healthy. He told me it was probably because I'm dehydrated, and he talked with my dad afterward. Just as we were about to leave, he asks, "Any other questions you have?" I don't know what happened. All I remember is me asking, "What about mental health?" quietly because I was afraid my dad could hear me. My doctor stops and stared for a moment, I think. He asks my father to leave the room. Then he tells me to talk about what was on my mind. I can't even form coherent sentences- I'm stumbling over words. I tell him about how I moved towns last year and that since then I'd been really agitated with my classmates. Switching classes but then realizing I kept on getting ticked off and felt angry- getting impatient with small things. I stopped playing guitar because it was pointless, forcing myself to draw something because I felt empty, sitting on the floor and crying because my body felt too heavy to carry itself. But I kept stammering it all out and I felt myself choke on my own words. I said something about not enjoying the things I used to do or something equally as lonesome, feeling like there was nothing I could do to feel better, and when I was done, he looked at me almost sadly. Said something about being a father and not being able to imagine what I was feeling- how he'd feel if his child felt the same way I was currently. He pulls out a thin sheet of paper- a form- and tells me to fill it out. He then leaves the room. I fill it out, and he comes back in to read the form. He said everything out loud- "Let me add this up: 2, 4, 7..." He ends up saying '19'. Then I realize. There was a little score counter on the bottom of the sheet. 20 and above meant major depression. Depression? I'm fourteen. There's no way. He brings my dad back in, and they talk for awhile- I'm fidgeting like crazy; I keep scratching the shape of a triangle in my palms- depression? No. That's not... I can't remember anything. He said something about seeing the hospital psychologist, maybe getting a psychiatrist- taking blood tests and getting prescribed a medication. I'm barely speaking at this point- my voice is so low sometimes I can't even hear myself speak. I just nod instead. He hands me a card, then a slip for another appointment in two weeks, and a small packet for tests with attached directions to the local blood testing centers. I arrive home. I stared at the slip with the little title under my name: Diagnosis: Depression. I cried. A lot. I can't be depressed, I'm too young... But the anger. The irritation. The thoughts I've been having- feeling tired and yet I sleep half of the day away, forgetting things right after I say them and losing track of days- weeks-, not doing anything because nothing seems fun anymore and it's all pointless- I cried the rest of the day. When I fell asleep last night I had a nightmare, but I don't remember what it was about. I don't remember the last time I had a nightmare. This morning, I planned on getting my blood tested because I want this done and over with. During the afternoon I get a call; my dad hands me the home phone saying it's a psychiatrist. It's the hospital psychologist's assistant. She asks me things- how I'm feeling, do I feel like I need a psychologist- I say yeah in my teeny tiny mouse voice again because I still feel awful, and she gives me a number to call. I forget what it's for though. A hotline? She then tells me the psychiatrist is going to review my answers and determine how soon I should see her. I get my blood drawn later, and my dad buys me a large pizza because I wasn't allowed to eat for eight hours for the blood test. I eat half of it before I get sick. The crook in my arm where the needle entered still aches a little. Depression. How can I be depressed? Am I depressed? Am I in denial? I want the blood tests to say that I don't need medication, I don't need a psychiatrist, I'm not depressed- But part of me knows that I'm lying to myself. I'm living in a generation where they romanticize mental illnesses for the sake of 'the aesthetic' and I want to believe that I'm just being dramatic- but I've been living with those symptoms for months and maybe even years- I'm too afraid to know what people would think. Would they think I was someone who romanticizes it too, or would they coddle me like a helpless child? Would they even take it seriously? I hate it. Hate is a strong word. I still hate it. I just want to be told I'm not crazy. I don't know what I am anymore. I'm lost- wandering in my own fears and I don't know what's going to happen. Someone tell me if I'm going to be alright. Tell me if everything is okay, or if it'll pass and I'll be better. I feel too young for this to happen. I don't want it to happen.
You should be happy. You know why? Because it means there is a solution to what you have been experiencing. The apathy, anger, and fatigue can leave and let you be happy with the help of your doctor and probably a therapist.
Try not to let a label overwhelm you. If you've been sad, talking with an objective, non-judgemental professional can help you come up with some ways to cope that work for you (emphasis on YOU). That's all it is. When I had a referral to a therapist, it did freak me out a bit. It was so 'official' seeing it written down. I had paranoid thoughts about being carted away to a facility. I needn't have worried as I liked the therapist I got. I'm impressed you had the good sense to speak up when you did. It could have gone on and on and gotten worse. Btw, you have a knack for telling a story. Keep up with the writing!
Depression doesn't mean crazy. I know it probably came as a shock. You might consider talking to your doc and father about trying therapy before going the medication route. Sometimes some talk therapy and assistance are all that is needed, and a lot of docs get prescription happy too fast.
I know it's hard to think that you've been diagnosed with depression, but it's not the end of the world. You will be getting treatment for it, and you will start feeling better about life in general. I've been diagnosed with bipolar depression 7 years ago, and was terrified because I thought that it meant I'm looney. Well, over the years, I've grown used to having to be on medication and having to have therapy/see my shrink, possibly for life. You're still young, you have your whole life ahead of you. This depression could be a temporary thing, based off of your day to day experiences and feelings, or it could be for life. Neither is inherently bad, because you now have a name for what you're going through. You have a diagnosis, and treatment can begin. Having to see a mental health professional is not such a big taboo anymore as it used to be, where only "crazy" people went. Depression does not make you a crazy person. And don't allow anyone to tell you to just "snap out of it" because if it were that simple, nobody will get diagnosed with depression. Don't be scared. You will get through this and come back a stronger person, whether you have to take meds or not. And don't think too far into the future. I know all you can think of now is this large brick wall in front of you. But let me let you in on a secret: There are ways to conquer the wall. You don't have to go over it. You can break it down, go around it, dig underneath it, etc. Depression can be a scary thought to those of us who have never dealt with something so big before, especially at your tender age. But that's what doctors are for. They have our best interests at heart and will do their best to see us functioning like "normal" people. I say "normal" because everybody's idea of it is different. If someone makes fun of you for being depressed, it's because they are scared too. They don't know how to handle things like that, and the only way they can feel better is to break you down. Just remember one thing: You will be alright. You will get through this seemingly impossible obstacle course and come out stronger on the other end. Like I said, don't think too far in the future, and this may be temporary. I'm by no means trying to give you false hope, but just trying to point out that it's not the end of the world getting diagnosed with a mental disorder. Chin up, you'll do great! Hugs
I know it's really hard for you (I've been there) but you can see it this way : a lot of us do not get a diagnosis until things are so grim we put ourselves or others in danger. You're 14 but plenty of 14 year olds are depressed (ok, not that many, but also not that few). I certainly remember being in the same kind of situation 2 years ago (and still somewhat like that nowadays, although long periods of emptiness and despair have shifted into cyclical outbursts of rage and self destruction followed by periods of mild boredom and emptiness). Just go along with things right now. Hope is probably out of reach as of now but do not be too desperate about needing medication. If they say you need it, you probably do. If it doesn't help right away, tell them, and maybe they'll see what other medication they can prescribe (it's commonly reported that antidepressants will need a fine dosage that's not usually right at first). If you get therapy, please make use of it. You're not crazy. You're not damaged. You're not a weight to everyone else. It happens. You'll get out of there.
