The Ballad of Me and My Brain

*This post might be triggering to some.*

**This is MY experience. This is how I perceived events.**

My mental health has surely improved within the last year or so. I am an open book, but talking about my mental health is not the easiest. Recently, I was a guest on a podcast, Janine Between the Lines, where I discussed my first time being prescribed medicines, my depression in college, & how I've overcome my struggles. From this conversation with Janine, I was asked by my sorority sister, Bond Marburger, to tell my mental health journey on her Instagram Series, Spill the Tea Sundays.

Captured by Brian Teal

I didn't understand what depression & anxiety were until I talked to a professional. I was sitting on a couch, looking out of the hospital window at a palm tree & the Guantanamo Bay sky, telling the professional how I felt. I felt so numb & empty, as if life wasn't real. I felt intense nervousness like a giant pit was in my stomach. I felt nothing & somehow, felt everything all at once. I felt happy at times, but also really sad. At this time, I was a Recreation Assistant for the Marina; I was constantly giving spiels about boating safety, how to use kayaks & paddle boards, etc. Public speaking was something I needed to do regularly to perform my job, but I was, & still am, TERRIFIED of being in front of people. Even after reflecting on incidences where I'd have to face the wall to give presentations in middle school, I never really thought I could have a mental illness. I thought it was normal to be so nervous. After an hour or so, the doctor recommended I take two different medications: one to take daily & one for anxiety triggering situations. Taking these medications made me feel like a zombie. I was going through the motions of the day but in what felt like someone else's mind. I could feel my thoughts change, like I was flipping a switch. This feeling was not something I wanted to continue. Instead of going back to try a different prescription, I decided to stop taking the medicine all together.

The transition of moving from Guantanamo Bay to Dover, Delaware in 2015 was something I was NOT mentally prepared for. I did not apply to a single college or university. I did not have a job. I did not have friends close by. Though I did not have these things, moving to a new place brings new opportunities. My brother, Alex, & I were driving around when we stumbled upon Wesley College. Soon after we enrolled to be Wolverines, I thought, "I got nothing to lose," so I attended a sorority's recruitment events. After two weeks of getting to know the women & weeks of New Membership Process, I was officially in a sorority!

Don't get me wrong, joining a sorority brought me life long friendships & lots of experience from being Vice President of Recruitment & Presidenté, but it was also physically, mentally, & emotionally exhausting. Maybe I didn't adjust well going from zero sisters to 50 plus, but my experience was different than I imagined it would be. With all the good times, came plenty of bad moments filled with petty drama & new found insecurities, including constantly feeling judged or like I was being compared to other sisters. When Greek Life at Wesley was suspended for alleged hazing, I was elected Presidenté... then hated. This took the biggest toll on my mental health & I don't think anyone realized it. I put my heart & soul into our suffering chapter with low morale & girls who suddenly stopped caring. When our chapter closed in May 2021, one sister texted me, "You literally carried our sorority." I was instantly sobbing & brought back to my countless hours working with the Leadership Team to plan events. There was so much passion for the organization, but not for each other. In college, we didn't realize how deeply our words & actions impacted others. As I look back on this time in my life, I realize we were not nice girls. We were so mean to one another for no reason. I did not feel comfortable talking about my mental health too deeply. I didn't want people to think I was seeking attention, being dramatic, or using my mental illness as a way to get out of events.

For the most part, I did a good job hiding my depression & anxiety during my college career. Behind closed doors, my depression smacked me in the face. Anxiety & depression aren't a black & white thing. My mental illness found comfort in my dingy Forever 21 black sweater for long periods at a time. Lack of wanting to socialize & simultaneously feeling left out, I would stare at the same spot on the wall for hours. I was constantly missing class because I could not get out of bed. I had a professor reach out to me after missing several of his classes. When I told him I was mentally in a bad place, he replied, "Remember that I have faith in you..." These words meant a lot to me but they did not stop my depression from worsening. The spring of 2017 was really rough on my mental state. My mind became such a dark place that I would often practice self harm & my dark thoughts became less of a thought, but more of a plan.

Many days, I wrote statements like, "It's all getting too much to handle" in my journal. The feelings were becoming too intense & I wanted it all to stop. There were a few things I wanted to do first: take a walk through downtown Dover, have brunch with my family, clean my room, & write letters to loved ones. I was so scared of what I was going to do next that I decided to take a nap first. Maybe 30 minutes into my nap, a friend wakes me up with a hug & cherry water ice from Rita's. It may sound silly, but this specific moment is what saved my life. I needed to know someone cared. I needed to feel loved.

After this pivotal moment, I found ways to stay busy. I figured if I was always doing

something, I would not be in my head as much. I got an internship. I went to festivals & concerts. I studied. I partied. I held a leadership position for all of the organizations I was in. I traveled. I spent time with friends & family. I wrote in my journal a lot. I made peace with the past. The depression & anxiety were still there, but I distracted myself enough that I did not seek professional help until February 2020. This time, I knew I needed medication. After I told a psychiatrist my life story, I was prescribed two different medications than previously prescribed in 2014. One to treat depression (which will also help my anxiety to an extent) & one to treat PTSD. I NEVER realized I had PTSD until earlier this year. You'd think that someone who was present when they lost their step-dad or saw their dad break their back all before the age of 10 would realize she's traumatized.

I am proud of myself for seeking professional help after thinking I could fix my mental illness on my own. I still have bad days, especially if I forget to take my medicine. Thankfully, I have a wonderful support system to give me lots of hugs & love when I'm feeling down. I hope this post helps you in some sort of way. Whether you got that push to see a professional or some insight you didn't know you needed.

I am an ally.

*This post might be triggering to some.*

**This is MY experience. This is how I perceived events.**

***Title: The Ballad Of Me And My Brain by The 1975***

Edited by: Felicia Canizales & Kenneth Ciccoli Jr.