Five years from Ignorance to Denial to Understanding…..
COVID-lockdown began, which meant minimum responsibility and maximum freedom at home for eighth-graders, including myself. Despite the closing of school doors, it opened up another door to undiagnosed depression symptoms, isolation, bedrotting, loneliness, disordered eating, and gaming addiction for me. For nearly a year and a half, I indulged in a lifestyle of not acknowledging my surroundings or the family who cared deeply for me. Without the support and self-awareness I needed, it was challenging to break this behavioral pattern and overcome the rut. It has been an eye-opening journey filled with a lot of learning for me.
“She’s only trying to taunt us with her suicidal ideation… don’t worry I’ll never end up like her” My thirteen-year-old self once ignorantly told my parents as my older sister was having one of her frequent mental breakdowns behind the locked door, not realizing that these words would cut deeper than the piercing knife. Mental health & depression were unfathomable to me. I believed that therapy was for the weak until I faced depression myself.
I knew things were out of control when I quit competitive swimming after the practice site reopened after the pandemic restrictions were lifted. Swimming has always been a fundamental aspect of my identity, and it was my only source of happiness. However, at the time, video gaming appealed to me more than swimming tedious laps in the pool, or so I thought. This decision set the stage for the most difficult period of my life. I began withdrawing from social situations and grieving my loss of identity. Disoriented and frightened about the future, I remained isolated within the four white walls of my room, at a loss for how to seek help.
This coincided with the beginning of my sophomore year, which was also my first year of experiencing high school in person. Masks were intended as a preventative measure against the pandemic, but I took advantage of them to conceal my insecurities of weight gain and severe acne that surfaced during lockdown. This act continued into Junior year as my peers gradually began to stop wearing masks. Knowing that I was one of the few who kept their mask glued to their face made me anxious about being associated with “mask fishing”. To me, my mask not only protected my face but also my vulnerability. Unconsciously, I was isolating myself from my peers, feeling invisible behind my mask. I didn’t fit in with the academic-oriented students who had large social circles or the popular crowd. My struggle to find my belonging within the school overlapped with the battle between my mental health and academic standing. My academic performance was declining and I began skipping certain classes more frequently.
Halfway into my Junior year, I was on the brink of being chronically absent and received a letter from the district warning of the risk of expulsion. I felt so disappointed in myself, especially as a first-generation student whose parents worked to the bone to move us to the States for better education. The conditions under my roof were already tense due to my parent’s dysfunctional relationship and it didn’t help that my situation was feeding more fuel into the fire.
The combined disappointment of my family and myself drove me to reach out out to my school’s mental health clinician. In the first two months of individual therapy, I believed that suppressing my vulnerability was a sign of strength. My therapist, who was a visually impaired woman, noticed my reluctance to open up and taught me that expressing vulnerability is in fact an act of bravery. The day I received a professional diagnosis of major depressive disorder, I broke down in tears on the spot. It was a moment of both shame and validation. Coming from an Asian household where mental health stigma was significant, I was apprehensive about discussing my depressive symptoms with my family. I tried to not allow my depression to define me, but being labeled with a mental illness separated me from traditional normality.
“Connection is the antidote to human suffering.” The connection I’ve built with my therapist is something I will cherish forever. Therapy has taught me as much as any other core components of education such as math and science. It taught me to forgive, love, communicate, and appreciate. Throughout my mental health journey, I found my “why” in life by connecting with a more meaningful identity. Now, I’m navigating my place as a first-generation student, passionate about exploring my interdisciplinary interests in psychology, research, and writing.
While I didn’t walk out of high school holding a transcript with straight A’s, graduating itself was an achievement I proudly celebrated with my family. During my final year of high school, college was never at the forefront of my mind, and I had little hope of attending. However, the day I opened my acceptance letter from UC Berkeley, I felt a sense of hope and accomplishment that I hadn’t experienced in years. It was a pick-me-up that I needed, especially while coping with a major rejection from an out-of-state college program which I had spent months preparing for.
If there’s one thing I’m certain about, you are not alone. There are many people and amazing resources out there for you, so take the leap of faith and reach out to them! As paradoxical as it sounds, if you have suffered from trauma or pain, healing becomes your responsibility. While it is impossible to rewrite the past, it’s within your power to forgive yourself and start looking after your future self.
Humans and butterflies are no different. Sometimes, Butterflies emerge out of their cocoons with a swollen body and shriveled wings, unable to fly. They go through the initial difficult development phase and eventually find freedom, flying off. We all encounter setbacks and challenges but it’s through these challenges that we discover our resilience and purpose which you will “fly” with throughout your life.
Read next blog- https://www.rcoz.us/loneliness-and-desperation/
