Kelly
For all of you out there, you have no idea how big of a deal it is for me to tell you this story. Several months ago, I would have rather cut my pinky off than tell a group of people about my experiences in this area. To understand where I’m coming from, I’m going to tell you a story about my life.
I started my life as the first child to two loving parents-one a nurse, the other a teacher. They had just built a house in Lancaster County when I was born. We have lived in a nice, quiet country neighborhood ever since. I was fortunate enough to grow up with all four of my grandparents within five minutes driving distance. I saw my relatives weekly, and had a lot of family support in my life. My parents both gave everything they had to promote my success. Over the years, three other children joined our family. They are all beautiful and fun loving. I was always an active person and loved playing outside with my sister and my neighbors. In school, I was very successful. Elementary school was a positive time in my life and went smoothly. We even had a close church family with many kids my age that I grew up with.
In middle school, things got a little rough for me, as is to be expected in early adolescence. I struggled with feeling worthless and having poor self-esteem. I was made fun of a lot by people around me and took it very seriously. I felt very unlikable, but still had my parents support. They would stay up late and hold me while I cried about the things that hurt me. That’s just normal middle school, right? After all, I was still very successful in school, participated in sports, and was very active in church.
At the end of middle school, I finally found a good friend. It was one of those friendships where you felt like you’d known each other forever. We wrote endless notes back and forth (girls-you understand that one!) and did things together every weekend.
Then came high school. When my good friend met the cool high school girls, I was no longer good enough. She decided it was more fun to hang out with people who could drive and in essence “dumped” me. I was devastated at her rejection. The feelings of worthlessness I had felt in middle school intensified. She reinforced the feelings I had of not being good enough. Throughout these times, I thought frequently about dying. The world would be so much better off without me, I would think. I never tried to hurt myself, but I knew things would be better if I had never been born.
Here’s an excerpt from my journal from November of 1998 when I was a junior in high school. “I hate it that I’m always so happy and smiley at school when that’s not what I’m feeling. I wish I could be completely honest about my feelings and still have people like me. Right now I feel like I have no hope, like my life has no purpose. I know I should have hope, but I don’t know what happened to mine. I don’t share what I’m feeling with people because I don’t want to scare them. I guess I think that no one really knows me.”
These were my private thoughts. On the outside, I was a straight A student, a member of the chorus, the band, the field hockey and track teams, the school musical, managing editor of the school paper, and leader of the Bible study, not to mention considered the “super spiritual” person in my youth group. On the inside, I told myself things like “Everyday I look in the mirror and despise what I see. I always feel stupid around people, like they’re so much better than me. I just have so much trouble accepting that someone would love me for me.”
Since I was such a spiritual person, I felt tremendous pressure to have joy because Jesus brings joy to good Christians. As I read through my old journal, I see the same phrases over and over again. “ I’m sorry Jesus, I lost my focus on you. I am so messed up. I can’t even keep my life together and focused for a few days. I know I should trust you to fulfill my needs. I know I have a confidence problem, God. Help me to overcome that. Help me to remember that you made me special. Help me to realize that I AM WORTH SOMETHING!” I prayed and prayed that God would make me feel like my life had hope. Like I was someone who mattered. Despite my success and even a few close friends, I was unable to feel loved and unable to have hope for my future.
I planned for college and got accepted to all three colleges that I applied to. I even got a full ride to one, but declined to attend Messiah because I felt that was the right place for me to be. I started the nursing curriculum and was a member of the honors program and played field hockey. Freshman year, I hit a very low point in my life. I had a boyfriend all of my senior year, and we had decided to go to separate colleges. I had hoped for a close hockey team to support me. The team ended up being really cold to me and I made few friends. My roommate, also from my high school with a boyfriend far away, and I were miserable and lonely. I made a few friends, but the girls on my floor were mainly sophomores and already had friends. Plus, I threw myself into my studying as I had always done. The hopelessness and sadness was overwhelming but I continued to pray and tell myself things would improve.
After a rough first year and a similar but better sophomore year of college, I spent a month of my summer in tears almost the whole time. Through some of my Bible and philosophy classes, a lot of my beliefs had been challenged. I could no longer believe the things I had once believed and my mind was stretched to the limit. I was equally frustrated that God had not answered my prayers. I still did not feel worthwhile. I still had a constant feeling of dread in my stomach. My life still seemed hopeless. During all this inner turmoil, I was still a 4.0 student, even in the nursing major, and participated in two sports and many other activities.
My journal entry from May of 2001 shows how bad I felt after my sophomore year. Here’s a glimpse. “I want to die so bad God. Why did you put me here? I’m not good for anything. I have no value to anyone around me. After the first few months of college, I just lost it. I’m just not who I was. I was so lonely at college. I thought it was from being away from my friends and family. I guess that’s not true because the loneliness is here. Here in my own house with my family buzzing around, here when I’m in Bryan’s arms, here when I’m with my good friends. Temporary happiness skims the surface at times and prevents anyone from knowing how I really feel. Deep down inside, nothing changes. I’m still alone and unhappy. I feel like the biggest failure in the world. I try talking to God. I pour out my heart, I cry, I pray. I can’t concentrate on prayer long. They are scattered and mixed up. It seems as if God was just a band-aid taught by those attempting to deal with life. It doesn’t work. He doesn’t do anything when you really hurt. When you feel so bad you just want to stab yourself and watch the worthless blood seep out. I’m crying out. He’s not here. He left me. All the time, no one is there. No one can help me sort out what is going on. I can’t figure myself out. I haven’t known which way is up for months. Everyone thinks I’m smart and have it all together. They are so wrong. I’m broken in billions of pieces. Let me die please.”
This is how I felt. I’d felt it for a long time. Nothing bad had ever happened to me in my life. No one I love died, I wasn’t raped, I wasn’t a failure—nothing. I was a perfectly successful model student with a ton of scholarships who couldn’t live with herself. It wasn’t until late in my junior year, only months ago, that I realized why I was like this. I suffered from depression. I really wanted to improve myself for my boyfriend, if no other reason. I noticed that my constant sadness was a strain on him. He never complained and had stuck by me for three years now, but I was tired of burdening him with something he couldn’t fix. As a very strong self-sufficient person, I had the hardest time going to counseling. I told my one roommate I was down one day, and she suggested I try the Engle Center. My roommate offered to go with me to see a counselor. I was mortified. The thought of telling someone else that I needed help was overwhelming. I was the one everyone always came to for help-spiritual, emotional, and academic. I was NOT the person who needed help. So, she practically drug me there, and I was extremely uncomfortable discussing myself.
I took a rating test for depression at the counselor’s office. I fell into the moderately depressed range and my counselor referred me to the college physician. The reason I felt so worthless and hopeless all the time was because of a chemical problem in my brain. It’s a disease just like diabetes or heart disease. It’s something that you can get without doing anything or having anything done to you. It just happens to some people. Like many other diseases, depression can be treated with medication. I started taking a medication called Lexapro. I was very reluctant to be dependent on a medication for my mental health. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing—not even my parents. The combination of medication and counseling started to change the way I felt. After a few weeks, I no longer had a feeling of constant dread. I didn’t have to ask my friends constantly if they liked me. I felt more confident and more relaxed. I actually allowed myself to hang out with people instead of being consumed by schoolwork.
I can’t say that I was magically fixed and that my life is perfect now. I do, however, look at things with a more balanced view. When I cry, there is a reason. I can enjoy my life instead of constantly struggling to make myself better so I can be good enough. I can look back and see the way my view of life was clouded. My boyfriend proposed to me, and I can honestly say I look forward to my future. I can realize now that my future is bright. I am going to graduate in May, marry a wonderful guy, and live a happy life with my family and friends. I’m even strongly considering pursuing medical school and using my academic skills as much as I can to help others.
When I look back at what I’m sharing with you, it makes me cry. I can’t believe how down I really was. I didn’t even know that something was wrong. I thought I just had a darker personality. No one ever suspected any problem. Even when I tell people now, they are surprised to hear about it. I had learned to live with depression, but that did not make my life livable. As I reflect on all this, I am so glad that I took the steps to get help. The quality of my life has improved so much since I sought counseling. If any of you have feelings similar to mine, please consider getting some help. It’s so hard at first, but you will be so glad you did it. If you don’t notice this in yourself, keep your eyes open for your friends. Maybe they are waiting for someone to notice just like I was. I hope that you have gained some insight by listening to my story. Thank you so much for listening.