It’s okay to not be okay.
You know when someone asks you if you are okay, when you are so obviously not? My depressive symptoms started in early high school. I didn't feel like everyone else and I didn't really fit in. I was larger than most of my peers and I was questioning my sexuality.
On the outside, I had everything I needed and wanted. I was a great student, I excelled in sports and I had a good group of friends. That's what I was told to believe. "You have all of this, you should be happy". So I shoved my emotions and thoughts down into a little box at the back of my brain.
Things were good for a while, but I can remember this one day in the locker room after practice about a year later I was shoved into a locker by my "friend". Jokes were being made, but they weren't funny to me anymore, and hadn't been for a while. It's like they couldn't see I wasn't laughing. That day, that little box in the back of my brain felt like it burst open. All of those thoughts and feelings came flooding back. Did I tell anyone? Of course not. I was taught that since I had friends, did well in school and was doing well in sports, I should be happy. "You're too young to be so sad".
My world got smaller, and I started struggling in a couple classes. I lied about grades I would get on tests to keep my parents happy and I lied and said I was going to a friends house when I drove myself to a park to cry in the parking lot alone. Being with people was hard because they would be talking about boys, but I had no interest. I was more interested in my friends than any guys at school. No one was "out" then, especially if you were an athlete.
However, it wasn't until college that things really took a turn. My sophomore and junior year I spent most of my time at home alone. I was planning on taking my life. I was upset, it was winter time and I was sitting by a tree by a bridge when someone walked by. They didn't interact with me but a few moments later the campus police came rolling up in their car. I was dragged into the car and stayed in the hospital that night. The next day I was escorted to therapy. It was terrifying, but the best thing that happened to me. I started talking and my feelings were validated and listened to. I felt heard for the first time. I started making improvements and started opening up to the people around me after while. Medication helped me cope with day to day interactions and challenges.
Since then I've had my ups and downs as everyone does. The stranger who called the campus police is now one of my best friends and I can't thank her enough.