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major depressive disorder is annoying.

what's your excuse?

I guess I'm one of the lucky twenty somethings that gets to be diagnosed with a mental illness. My life has completely changed because of it. It's like everything I ever expected to achieve in a certain amount of time has been thrown off balance, but it's okay that it has because guess what, I can't function without medication. My life has been like a movie or something no one ever expects to happen to them or their children or any member of their family. I've been through hell and somehow made it out in pieces, but pieces that could possibly be put back together for once.

To start off this little blog of mine I would like to say my story with no regrets and without judgement for once. A couple days after this past Thanksgiving I mentally cracked. I had been dealing with depression for about five years and after going away to college for the second time my brain finally cracked. I was having suicidal thoughts along with insomnia and along with problems when it came to eating. Let's also not forget the constant fights with friends, the constant crying, racing thoughts, and the isolation. My dinner for going back to college ended with me balling my eyes out and begging my parents to not let me go back to school. They instead suggested a psych ward. I met with a psych screener, texted friends to tell them I was being admitted, and spent a good seven hours in the ER crying my eyes out and begging my mom to just take me home. I was admitted on to the psych ward floor at four o clock in the morning with a container of apple juice and lovely sleeping pills.

The next day I was given breakfast and introduced to my roommate Chelsea and everyone else that was on the floor; half committed half voluntary. Needless to say I wasn't in the best of places and some of the people there had a knack for being scary. I remember the first time I met with the doctor and the social worker and how much I cried. It was horrible. I was told my main depression started when I broke up with my boyfriend Mike over the summer. We had been dating for three years and it was a tough decision, but he was one of the reasons I ended up in the hospital. Before I got really bad he decided to get into me about how horrible I was to him and how I didn't deserve him. Basically he thought I was a slut and had been using me a lot for the couple months we were at the same school. That's where it started. We're not together and probably will never be. I'm okay with that though. I have nothing to be ashamed of and have been lucky enough to find people that understand me and love me no matter what.

The first day was the hardest. The pills I was given kept me drugged up and aggravated since I felt like i couldn't function in any of the groups. It wasn't a very productive couple days til I actually got used to the medicine and everything was adjusted correctly. The second day I was still pretty beat. I had breakfast, went to morning group, and decided to go back to sleep after that. While sleeping Chelsea came in to visit me and make sure I was okay. Apparently another woman named Julie decided to flip a table in the lunch room so we were on lock down so I could keep sleeping. It was great news. Scary, but still pretty good for me. From there I got a lot better. Everything picked up for some reason. I met people that could actually understand where I was coming from and just why I was the way I was. It was normal to be slightly crazy. I was visited by my family and my friends got to call me on a lovely payphone. It showed me just who was worth it and who wasn't.

Wednesday, the third day, went by well. Everything was adjusted correctly and I was actually functioning in the group therapies. I learned a lot about myself and just how far I had let myself go. My life is worth living and it was put on me to actually make it what I want it to be. I had spent so much of my time waiting for someone to save me when in reality I had to save myself. When you're locked in a psych ward and you're spending most of your time talking or coloring pictures all you have is you and you're problems. My darkness isn't truly darkness, it's a part of me. It took long after the psych ward for me to realize that.

My fourth day I was told at five in the morning that I was being released. I was beyond excited. I didn't want to leave the people that had actually made an impact on me or vice versa, but I was really done wearing scrubs and walking around in socks. I made a mask my last day. It represented how I couldn't talk to anyone about how I was truly feeling in an appropriate way. Deep down I was angry and hurt. My last day was great and everyone had mixed feelings of me going. I was ready though. I had made a whole lot of changes in a small amount of time. I wanted to be with my family and figure out where to go with my life.

I guess with my first entry this gives you a basic outline of where I was and how this all started. What you should know is that my name is Sam and I'm mentally ill. I spend my time daily in slight fear of being depressed again. I live with this every day. I am diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and I'm still surviving.

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