Introspective in Perspective

There have been a lot of experiences in my life that I feel have had a large impact on me, though there are only a few that I can remember that I feel changed the way that I actually think and act. Some of them seemed like they were only small moments in the grand scheme of things, but thinking back I definitely think “This is one of the moments where I started to grow up.” Those moments are the ones that have the biggest impact on people, even if at the time you might not realize it. I have always suffered with clinical depression, though I wasn't officially diagnosed until I was in the seventh grade. At the time I thought that the little blue pills that I had to take were the best things ever, because they were what was going to help me to be normal, help me to not feel so awkward, crazy, and lonely all the time. I took them faithfully for a while, until I started to reach a place that I considered to be 'normal', and I would randomly decide that I didn't need to take them anymore, because I was cured. I knew that there was no cure for depression, but I didn't want to think about that, because it meant that I wasn't normal, would never be okay on my own. This vicious cycle continued for many years, where I would take my pills, feel better, stop taking them, become depressed, renew my prescription, take my pills... round and round and round, with me stuck in the middle feeling weak and helpless all the time because I couldn't be 'sane' without something helping me. Even though I was an EMT, even though I knew that this wasn't my fault in any way, there was nothing that could make me believe that. I kept taking myself off of my pills, trying to force myself to be better without them. (It didn't help that the first drug that I was placed on made me gain weight, which made me feel worse about myself and yet more determined to not need them anymore.) For a while, I felt like I was doing fine. My life was becoming more and more stressful, which was adding lots of anxiety problems into the mix, and I would hold everything in for so long that I would eventually erupt like a volcano, spewing toxic words and actions at anyone who happened to be around me, while still trying to convince them that I was fine. It was a sad place to be, and even as I was pushing people away I was hoping that someone would be able to help me, pull me out into the land of the living, where I had been an outcast for so long. I had a few friends, but I tried my best to not let any of them see how bad I actually was, laughing and smiling when I was around them so that they seemed to believe me. There was one person who always seemed to see through all of the bravado and bullshit that I put up as my exterior, saw my nail biting for what it was, and decided that he was going to do something to help me. I remember the night perfectly. I was sitting on the floor next to my mom, begging her to cut off my hair, which was finally growing out and was something that I was absurdly proud of. But at that moment, I needed it gone. My clothes felt too tight, my pulse was racing, and the feel of the littlest thing touching my skin made me want to cry. I was trying so hard to keep a handle on my emotions, and they seemed to be forcing themselves out through my pores, making my skin feel so fragile and new, and making me feel panic and fear like I had never felt before. The lights were so bright that I could barely see, and I just wanted to go somewhere and be alone in the dark. But I felt as if I were an egg, and if I moved my shell would crack into a million pieces. It was at this point that he came in and started talking to my mom, telling her that I was just putting on a show, and was much more depressed than I seemed. Each word hit me like a dart, showing me that he actually cared about me but at the same time feeling like I was being attacked for being not good enough. I crawled back under the table and started to cry, because it felt like all of my secrets were being exposed, like the facade that I had built up around myself was crumbling down around my feet. I remember methodically removing all of my jewelery and putting it in a little pile next to me, so that as little was touching me as possible. All at once this became too much for me to handle, and I ran out of the room, hoping that I would be able to go somewhere and gather myself before I exploded, and at the same time hoping that someone would follow me, comfort me as I had comforted so many others over the years. He found me in the garage, the concrete floor cold under my feet. I was leaning on the hood of an ambulance, breathing heavily and trying to calm down. I heard him come out, saw his boots against the floor, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't, I was too ashamed. Suddenly he grabbed my arms and hugged me, telling me that everything would be okay. For the first time, I believed him. We talked for hours, about his struggle with depression, my feelings, and the fact that he knew that I was going to be okay, even if I didn't right at that moment. Finally I was able to go to bed, with my pride somewhat shattered but mending (and my hair intact.) Soon after that I made an appointment with my doctor and had my medicine changed. On her recommendation I made an appointment with a therapist, which led to me getting a psychiatrist appointment and medication for my anxiety issues as well as my antidepressants. I continued to take my medication until I lost my insurance, where I started to spiral downward again. But this time I was able to take care of myself, and I was recently able to get insurance back and get started on another medication. But that night changed me forever, because it taught me so much. The fact that one person cared enough to confront me, cared enough to let me know that I was not alone, I was fine, they wanted me to get better helped me to realize that I am worth fighting for. I'm also not the only person to struggle with depression, or not want to take pills for the rest of their lives. But they help, so I have come to terms with it. I may never be 'normal' without them, but I would probably not be seen as 'normal' anyway, and besides, being normal is vastly overrated (and not all that much fun.)