Still Coping

The alarm goes off on my Iphone at 7 a.m. every weekday. Some days I hit the snooze button once or twice and get up without a problem. Other days I hit the snooze nine or ten times before I have a panic attack. As debilitating as the attack is, I find a way to have a quick smoke. Then I send an email to my professor:

Good morning professor, I am sorry but I will not be able to make it to class today. I woke up feeling *insert made up illness*. Sorry for the short notice. See you next class. -Larry Lanza

I am too embarrassed to tell them that I can‘t go to class because I am depressed, and for the next few hours I lay in my bed. I stare at my phone, I stare at my computer, and I stare at my ceiling, trying to catch my breath and calm down. On top of feeling shitty because of my mental state, I‘m even more upset that I missed class. When I finally get out of bed somewhere around 1 o‘clock, I eat whatever is in the fridge, and shower. These are what I call my “shit days.”

In November of my sophomore year, right after Thanksgiving break, I woke up and had my worst “shit day.” I don’t think I left bed until it was dark out that day. To clear my head I hopped in my rusty Jeep and blasted the Allman Brothers. Instead of clearing my head, the drive filled my head with the some of the darkest thoughts I‘ve ever had. The song “soul shine” was playing and I could not even handle being this stressed and anxious and sad for another minute. I didn‘t think about school, or my family, or my girlfriend, and I drove my truck off the road in hopes of hitting a telephone pole. I closed my eyes and went for it, and I missed it. “FUCK!” I screamed repeatedly and cried, for as long as the rest of Greg Allman‘s guitar solo. I whipped my eyes clear of tears, lit my spliff, and got back on the road. This was the lowest point in my life. This “shit day” was almost my last.

I stayed up that whole night, silent in bed. I couldn‘t get up and hang out with my friends. This was the lowest I have ever felt. I had two classes the next day, and I skipped them without hesitation. Skipping class became a habit. Instead of telling my professors that I was in a terrible mental state, I just accepted the absences and tried to heal myself. My depression led to a 2.2 GPA- a stat that only enhanced my stress ad anxiety. My GPA and my success in college is still hindered by my depression.

Now that I have been dealing with this mental illness for sometime, I wonder how I’m supposed to cope, how do other students cope, how are depressed students able to fight through and grow?

Depression effects a large population of the adult world. Humans from all walks of life suffer from this mental illness, but college students seem to be extremely susceptible to depression. The American college health Association conducts a survey ever year on various issues dealing with mental illness. In 2015, 44.2 percent of men and 62.1 percent is female students felt overwhelmed with anxiety. Along with those numbers in mind, 8.7 of all college students seriously considered taking their own life. Along with myself, my two friends, Lindsay and Tom, fall into both of these horrific statistics. The problem is that although we are not alone in numbers and statistics, emotionally and mentally we feel alone.

While writing this, I spoke with PhD Teresa Grant. I told her that I am not the biggest fan of therapy, and an insight to alternative coping methods is what I am looking for. I’ve tried therapy and always felt that I would hold back saying certain things and end up just wasting my time. However, she agreed it could be tough finding a therapist you like, but you should try more than one doctor. She said, “the youth is under more pressure to succeed than ever before,” but “it could be because we [the youth] buy into that mindset.” Grant said we lose sight of our goals and try to be “superman.” A main point Grant stressed for either people who find sanctity in therapy or people who cannot, anyone battling with the mental illness needs a good “head of tools.” One tool that she said is most important is cognitive behavioral tools, trying to shape our way of thinking through your body and mind. I am able to shape my thoughts and behavior in a positive manor mainly through the love of my friends. Tom and Lindsay can both attest to the notion that great friendships take away from stress and depression.

Unlike myself, Lindsay has been dealing with her depression since age 10, when she realized she was not happy with her appearance and personality. Lindsay is a tremendous graphic design student and an all around loving person. She is someone I am proud to consider my best friend. Most of her days and nights are spent in the studio in front of a screen stressing out about the next due date. On “shit days” for Lindsay, her stress and anxiety is through the roof, and all she can think about is how far behind she is going to be. Lindsay‘s anxiety controls her thoughts. Instead of thinking about how fun and caring everyone thinks she is, she sees the worst in herself and the situations she is in. Doctor Grant told me to be weary of “catastrophizing” the situations you are in. She becomes so anxious with far out beliefs that she cannot succeed in school. This has happened to the point where she has failed classes and even just stopped going. She never was able to tell a professor, and a professor has never asked her about her mental state.

Lindsay says her father‘s alcoholism has had a huge effect on her mental health. In middle school she began cutting, as a quick way to briefly escape the pain she felt. To this day it continues but to a lesser extent. To help deal with anxiety she is prescribed Xanax, which she uses as a positive and negative coping tool. She also believes that her father‘s substance abuse is the reason for her abuse of Xanax and sometimes alcohol to heal. It is also so heavily influenced in a college setting, to get hammered and do hard drugs if you want to have a good time. Doctor Grant said negative coping, such as cutting and drug abuse seems like a quick easy way to heal, but in the long run, there is no benefits. Lindsay sometimes looks back in shock about her past habits. “Its baffling to think about how much I used to cut.”

Tom is another best friend of mine, who suffers from depression and high anxiety as well. Similar to Lindsay, he has been battling with depression since he was 11. Tom‘s irritable bowel syndrome produced a chemical imbalance, and that is directly correlated with his depression. After being discharged from the Air Force after only two weeks into basic training for his IBS, he felt as though his dream and something he had been preparing for was just stripped away. This is where Tom tried to be the “superman” Doctor grant spoke about. He felt as if he was a failure for not being able to achieve his dream. He came back to school the next semester and was mentally checked out. He received a 2.7 GPA. He says he doesn’t know how it wasn’t lower than that.

Tom’s past also included self-harm, where he would punch anything until his hands were bloody and bruised. He has been taking twenty milligrams of Lexapro since he was 16, and he doesn’t think he could go without it. However, he is also prescribed Klonopin for his horrible sleep habits, and this is sometimes taken recreationally to forget a stressful evening. His habits of coping do sometimes involve copious amounts of weed and alcohol. He agrees with Grant that smoking weed is a just a band-aid to the stress. I have had the pleasure of living with Tom the last two years, and becoming close with him has helped both of our depression greatly. However, before we both understood each other to the extent we do today, we would try to help each other by getting stoned or hammered. This wound up being at the hardest parts of our college career so far.

Unlike Tom and Lindsay, my depression stems from one event and is fueled by guilt. A few months prior to the worst day of my life, on the 4th of July, my girlfriend and first love was raped. It happened at a party that I was supposed to be at but I changed my mind at the last minute to get drunk with my friends and not hers. Although she never blamed me for it, seeing her emotionally drained with no positivity or hope was truly saddening. She blamed herself for being drunk- something I told her countless times is a horrible thought to hold on to. She could not eat properly, or sleep, or look at herself in the mirror without being upset. Her grades, similar to mine crumbled. However, she told one professor about her mental illness and was granted extensions on all work she missed. For months we would lay in bed, get high and eat junk food. We hardly went out, and we seldom had sex, and we hardly attended classes. The relationship was terrible and was a trigger for both of our anxieties. The fighting and the crying lead to her sleeping with someone else and ultimately our breakup. The break-up was taxing on both of our mental health and we had to cut all ties completely. Today we are not even friends and I cannot attest to her emotions towards the situation. However, I know that seeing someone I loved that distraught and not herself, led to my high anxiety and depression.

I hold a large amount of respect and love for both Tom and Lindsay. At this point in my life they are the reason I am in a better state than I was at my darkest. Instead of getting violently drunk with Tom like we used to, today when one of us is debilitated by depression he drives me around, or we order Chinese food and he’ll say “wanna go buy some cigarettes and snacks and watch the ‘Jersey Shore?’” Lindsay and I just lay in bed and watch cartoons and silly movies when either one of us is overwhelmed with stress, or we’ll go to a party we know will have a positive atmosphere and good people there. I frequently do homework with both of them. We all push each other to do better in school, because we are all aware of our potential to succeed. It‘s these things that I feel are most important to coping. “Borrow someone else’s lens,” Doctor Grant said, and that means to be grateful that I have these beautiful people in my life, whereas there are people who do not have the support system I have.

Despite the strides that I have made, I am still fighting. I still have “shit days” and I still lie to my professors. I don’t know what is to come in my last two years of school, but I know it won’t be easy. College is supposed to be a time of growth, and that growth is stumped by depression. Waking up and going to class, doing homework almost every night, managing to have some what of a social life, being financially sound enough to pay for weed, beer and food are all difficult enough. Now add on the feeling of sadness, anxiousness, and stress making your body and mind feel like you have nothing left inside, as if all things normal in your body are gone. My friends and I have made great strides in coping; yet we still do not have a secure method. This could be because there is no method set in stone for every person, but I am hopeful both Tom and Lindsay will succeed through school and further on in life.