My story

Know what really frustrates me about depression? That it's unique. It's difficult to comprehend, especially for someone who has not been depressed. It's also difficult to comprehend for someone who is, but doesn't know it. Am I making sense?
What I'm trying to say is this: I was depressed for a very long time before I even realized that what I was feeling was depression.

You know how, when you're in high school, pretty much everything sucks? Well, that's how I felt, but I thought it was normal. Without a good, talking relationship with my mother at the time, I turned to several people, describing my feelings, and was always met with a blanket "it'll get better," statement. I had no idea what I now realize. I was depressed.

Fast forward through college, which were generally good years. I had my ups and downs, of course, but thanks to good friends and a good residence life, I was able to make it through college in four typical years. After graduating without a job, moving in with my parents and working almost fulltime at Dunkin' Donuts, my depression resurfaced, for a time. Up until this point I still did not realize what it was, however. My best friend was depressed, but of course hers manifested it differently, and she had a trauma that caused her depression as well. I had no trauma, so I wasn't depressed, obviously.

It's important to me to say this before I continue, lest I forget. You don't need a trauma to become depressed. No one needs to die, abandon you or abuse you. Sometimes your brain just doesn't create the right chemicals. And it's OK.

After I started dating Geoff, my future husband, I discovered something I hadn't had in a long time. A confidant. In the beginning, our relationship, though long distance, was new and exciting. I was thrilled to be in a relationship at all, even if he did live on the other side of the country. A month after we started dating I landed my ideal job. I was the sole reporter for a small, weekly, newspaper. I was happy. Those life events and the start of the summer, with longer hours and more daylight kept my depression at bay. But it would not be permanent, unfortunately. I can't tell you what finally pushed me to go to the doctor, but one day I realized I needed help. I was put on prozac and, three days later, I felt amazing. Happier than I've ever felt in my life. It was like a veil was lifted.

There is more to my story, it doesn't end there. I will tell you the rest, eventually, have no fear. But I must leave you with this because, honestly, I have housework to do, and a couch to get up from. It's my own way of fighting depression.