Written by Charlotte Andersons
On December 22nd, 2021, two days before Christmas, I attempted to end my life. It was supposed to be the “happiest time of the year,” yet I felt completely alone.
As a child and teenager, I was surrounded by friends and was always described as “smiley” and “cheerful.” I had my family and friends around constantly and never knew what loneliness felt like—until it crept in slowly, unnoticed by myself or others. I began losing motivation, thinking I was just lazy and tired. My optimism faded, and with the pandemic isolating me from friends, my mental health declined rapidly.
When I opened up to my parents about how I was feeling, we agreed I needed a counselor. I described my symptoms: I completely lacked motivation, my appetite, and my “social battery.” I was prescribed an iron supplement, which I took, trusting it would help. But my mental state worsened, becoming unbearable. I switched to a new counselor who made me feel comfortable enough to share everything. That session, I broke down. Later that night, overwhelmed, I felt there was no escape from the pain.
I slept next to my mom, and she could tell something was wrong. Late that night, we went to the hospital, and I’ll never forget the look on my family’s faces as we left. That night, I was diagnosed with severe depression.
At the time, I couldn’t imagine life improving. But I was wrong. Recovery wasn’t easy, but I focused on small daily goals: getting out of bed, taking a walk, eating, and talking to a friend or family member. Opening up and being vulnerable was the hardest part, but it helped me feel understood. Gradually, with medication and effort, the depression faded.
Picking up these pieces has made me a stronger version of myself, but one that is also more open and empathetic. I feel hope and, yes, even motivation again. I understand that the lows are as inevitable as the highs. I have faith that I can navigate these waves and walk, one step at a time, through any adversity.
Comments