Grace’s Story

I didn't know why I was always sad. At a young age I didn't understand why it was so easy for me to break into tears. I wasn't social in school; I had no interest in playing with peers my age. I even had trouble focusing on school. It wasn't until I was in my late teens that I was able to recognize that what I had going on was called 'depression'.       

So I started researching depression. It was scary discovering what symptoms I had that were listed.  It was a long time before I sought help—a mistake that I wish I could take back. It took me getting to an especially deep and dark place, and the motivation of a good friend to tell me that I needed it.  So I went into a mental health clinic.       

And I got help. Help in healing. I was able to learn a lot more about depression and myself. I learned that it isn't my fault that I have this impairment; that I can change my thought process; and that I can get over this. I started recognizing when my depression would really set in and the automatic things I did to avoid dealing with my emotions. I'd 'numb' out the world with television and the internet and easily became addicted—but I found out that I didn't have to do that if I dealt with the emotions I had in the moment… instead of just shoving them deep inside me.  I had to learn to surround myself with the type of people that helped change my perspective of myself, because I'm not worthless. I'm a wonderful, valuable person in this world. I made good progress in a matter of months—set at 40 out of 46 on the depression scale when I first went into the clinic, down to a 19-22, the average person at a 15. It gave me confidence that I was actually making progress. I was officially diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder last year. With extensive therapy I discovered that I've been suffering for 11 years with it. But not anymore. I'm a fighter, strong. My name is Grace and yes, I have depression—but I am not depressed.