For the longest time, I was afraid to share my problems with others because I feared being judged. This all changed my first semester of college. I was a biology pre-med student with high hopes. I was so excited to be starting a new chapter, I was 13 hours away from home and for the longest I thought I was able to combat all of my issues all alone…This was true until I started failing classes and began having mental breakdowns. At first, I was hesitant about talking to anyone about my problems because it was kind of normal for me to just be stressed and cry…Until I began having even more issues, I had trouble sleeping, I could hardly focus, and I was still struggling in my academic career. On the outside I would still smile and pretend everything was fine…But on the inside I was dying and yearning for relief. This is when I decided it was time for a change…I had never talked to a mental professional, and to be completely honest I was very hesitant to begin talking to one. I did not tell anyone I was thinking of seeing a counselor because I did not want to be judged. On one very dreary day, I walked over to my universities counseling center because my thoughts were getting the best of me and I needed an escape and I needed to talk to someone soon. As I pulled on the door handle I was still a bit hesitant to enter the center…But I let out a sigh and opened the door…I was greeted by very kind people and felt a bit of relief. As soon as I was assigned a counselor and was taken back to her office, I could not even speak…The tears just began running…I could not even vocalize what I was going through…The counselor assured me that everything would be fine and that I can talk whenever I was comfortable. After about 30 mins I was feeling a lot better, and the counselor and myself came up with a plan to get me back to myself. But this was not the end…It was just the beginning. After seeing the counselor for months I thought I was doing fine…Until one day I got hit with a cloud of panic…I had no clue what to do or how to stop the feeling…So I just sat at my desk scared for my life…Thinking I was about to have a heart attack and die…The next day I went back to the counseling center and was told what I experienced was a panic attack, I was a little confused because I had never had a panic attack before that day, I was even more confused because I felt as though there was no reason for the panic attack. After talking with the counselor I felt a bit of relief, she gave me some information on panic attacks and ways to cope with them if I ever started having one again…So my life was back to normal…It was now the end of the spring semester and it was time to go home…While at home, I was fine…My life seemed to back to normal, there were a few days where I would be sad or a bit “off” but it was manageable…Fast forward to Junior year of college…I thought I had all my “issues” sorted out, I continued seeing the counselor whenever I needed to and things were going fine…Until I felt anxious and/or sad almost everyday…I thought it was normal and would just past…But it didn’t and seemed to never go away no matter how I tried to distract myself…So I brought this up to my counselor and she suggested that I see a psychiatrist, because at this point I may need to begin taking medication…I was hesitant about seeing a psychiatrist because I did not want to be viewed as “crazy”, but I also wanted to stop suffering…I set up an appointment to see a psychiatrist. At the end of my first appointment the doctor said I had generalized anxiety and mild depression…The next words that came out of his mouth were “…I believe you should begin taking antidepressants…I believe you will benefit from them.” I knew something was wrong, but I did not know what…So I was glad that I finally had an answer…However, I did not like the thought of taking medications…I did not want to become dependent and I also did not want to become a “zombie” as depicted in media when they show people on medication for mental disorders…The psychiatrist reassured me that I would be put on a low dosage and that if I wanted to discontinue taking the meds, that was fine. Fast forward to today December 8, 2017…It’s been a year since I began taking the antidepressant Prozac and honestly…I couldn’t be happier, yes…I still have my bad days…But it happens less frequently than before..So that’s my story…I have learned that I need to share my feelings with others…I need to stop being afraid of being judged…because at the end of the day, I am human and we all have our issues. But most importantly, I have learned that it’s okay to get help…This and many other reasons not stated is why I changed my major to Psychology and why I aspire to become a psychologist…I want to be able to help others just like I was helped.
