Everyday NhanSense: Each day, I will blog about something that comes to mind. My goal is to practice writing about my hobbies, my interests, my opinions and so forth.
Day 25’s Topic: Fighting the good fight.
It’s no surprise I often use the “Depression” tag a lot for my blog posts. Modern society has such a stigma over this specific “D” word that a lot of people brush it aside, or worse, try to hide it.
“It’s all in your head!”
“Stop being sad!”
“You’ll get over it. It’s just a phase!”
And yet, for some people, depression never goes away. And you know what?
I have depression.
There. Was that so difficult? No, not really. I have actually gotten used to feeling like this in some unpleasant degree. But in all actuality, I have had depression long before this blog had even one letter typed out. Way long before that, in fact.
I can say now with 100 percent certainty that I was a depressed person in a variety of ways. It all started when I was a college student. Back in school, I had to work constantly to make sure I could pay tuition, pay for food, pay for every random expense to keep my student loans down, but it came at the price of my happiness and overall college enrichment.
I was always so out of it in the classroom because I was tired all of the time. There were so many days I barely could get through class running on fumes, just always sitting in the back of the class barely able to keep my eyes awake.
I had many countless nights where I would stay up to blast out a halfhearted essay or two, on top of trying to cram useless information into my noggin that I would forget the moment the exam was finished.
Ultimately, for my introverted personality, this meant I would forego a lot of things like social gatherings or just being able to relax like a young adult who had a lot on his plate. Well, it was a lot for me to handle anyway. I managed to squeeze some time for myself here and there, but my life was far from well-rounded.
Looking back at it, I should have seen the writing on the wall a lot sooner. I found myself talking about how I was “possibly” depressed to a career counselor of mine on multiple visits, where I danced around the notion that I may or may not have needed professional help.
Perhaps had I done something sooner, maybe I could have nipped the problem in the bud before all of the worst effects blossomed out of control just a few months after college graduation.