Personal Narrative: Major Depressive Disorder

My family has always been one that talks about how problems and emotions openly. My dad taught me that no problem is too big or too small for your family to fix. While I believed him and usually went to my parents and sister with my problems, sometimes it felt too difficult to ask them for help. It was around the same time I realized my family couldn’t fix everything that a few of my friends began to talk to me about their own experience with therapy. The idea was then implanted in my mind that there was some sort of mystical woman sitting in a pant suit in a comfortable office that would be able to cure me of my woes and solve every issue I was facing. My mom, however, had a pretty negative experience with psychologists and psychology in general, and was quite apprehensive about letting me go and talk to a professional. My dad urged her to take me to an appointment, and it has been from that very first appointment that I have been greatly interested in the psychoanalytics and therapy.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

Anyone who suffers from depression develops coping skills. However, there is a large difference between the positive coping skills that allow for better management of a mental illness and the destructive coping skills that afford temporary relief but ultimately worsen the illness. Instead of talking to someone, going for a walk, or distracting myself, I turned to self-harm. I knew it was not a beneficial thing but I thought I could control it. I was wrong. My habit worsened and soon I found myself thinking of suicide. Still, I did not see how bad I was growing. It was not until I stepped back and saw the whole picture that I realized I could not continue the way I was living. I had to do something. So, I did. I started

It took over three months for her to truly overcome the paranoia; nevertheless, I found myself with a new passion – to potentially help someone in the same position as I was. By the time I entered high school, I began chasing newfound volunteering opportunities. The beginning of my volunteering began small at a local Korean School. Teaching younger students at the Korean School, I found myself enjoying having to explain the difficult topics to confused students and sharing the knowledge I had. I began spending the summer teaching math at Summer Schools and tutoring other students. Wanting something more, I started volunteering at a nearby North Shore Hospital. My small childhood wish of helping someone potentially undergoing the same experiences I had, however, began to

I wasn't really a smart kid ether, but I did know a lot about mental health, mostly because I had no choice, mother and father were going to send me to therapy. My mother was worried and my father, his exact words were “i'm done dealing with your crap”. I thought that they couldn't help so I was going to give them a good scare, I thought they were just like everyone else. The psychiatrist was rude and made me feel stupid, what kind of psychiatrist was she. Were good now but she really didn't like me. The therapist was a different story, she was nice and she didn't just jump to conclusions. She didn't understand me but I enjoyed her presents.

#*Nevertheless, if you feel unsafe in therapy, trust your instincts. You shouldn’t work with someone who doesn’t share your values and doesn’t make you feel accepted. Many people have to try several different therapists before finding the right fit.

One day I decided that I was going to see a therapist and this took many years to do. This would be someone that knew nothing about me but was a listening ear. I was able to express some anger and resentment I was enduring. The therapist was praised me for my strength, accomplishments and motivated me to return to school for my MSW. My therapist was as a graduate from Rutgers MSW many years ago. Someone who knew nothing about me and listened without judgment. I know that is her job, but it helped me get through things I have struggled with for many years, from the loss of my job, death of my husband and the lack of empathy from my family and

Living with Bipolar disorder and depression is like a bad Katy Perry song, "Hot N' Cold". I have had this internal conflict as long as i can remember, it slowly made its way to external. I have learned a lot over the years from it. One is you can not fix everything with a little pill. People are who they are not what you want to be.

It was difficult to admit that I was anxious about going to therapy. After all, I am in the helping field myself. So I procrastinated until I could no longer and decided to join a care givers group. Upon entering I feel tension immediately. I couldn’t understand why. The facilitator asked why I was there, I told her I was a student and that my mother suffers from Bipolar-Depression, she informed me that the organization didn’t allow students to observe but since I could relate to the topic, I could say and participate. The group members began to trickle in I noticed that the group member nor the facilitator where big on keeping time. There ended up being 4 group members: A husband with a suffering wife, a mother with a suffering

“Welcome to Westdel Psychiatric Ward”; the sign was illuminated from my headlights, for it was only the break of dawn. I found my parking spot, pulled in, and turned off the car. I was a little bit early for my morning shift, but I planned on getting a head start for the day, plus a new patient had checked in.

Reading your post confirms my decision to enter into Mental Health Counseling was a good choice. Your desire to work with individuals from diverse backgrounds and using a wide range of techniques was what drew me to this specialization as well. It is interesting to note how you were considering very specific programs before settling on mental health counseling. I am also inspired by your initial consideration of entering into addiction counseling to assist individuals like your brother. My family has also inspired me to enter into counseling as well. They are the reason why I have been as successful as I have been in the past, and they are also the reason why I have sought out counseling for my own betterment.

Shortly after meeting with her, I was diagnosed with severe depression and trauma. At that point, it was surprisingly easy for me to accept that I was affected by a mental health disease, most likely because I had exhausted every other possibility out there and finally succumbed to the fact that, yes, even I was susceptible to mental illness. And once I overcame that mental block, the path to better days became clearer. I embarked on a journey of healing and clung to Alice’s words and advice like a palm tree clings to the earth during a storm. Our weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) meetings in her office became - and will continue to remain - a safe space. It is a place where I feel no judgement. I do not recall ever hesitating to share any of my deepest thoughts with my therapist; the confidence I have in Alice has been one of the greatest factors in allowing me to successfully address my depression and trauma. I’ve learned that being honest with others is important, but being honest to yourself is paramount. Alice gave me the courage to be open with my family - something I was unable to do previously. During one of our earlier meetings, Alice and I rehearsed ways to effectively communicate with my mother and develop a stronger relationship based on honesty and trust. Through Alice, I was able to nurture a relationship of understanding

I agree! Conditions have improved and certainly the corrupt institutions that were so fraught with abuses have now left our landscape. Unfortunately, in many ways, our jails and prisons now stand in their place housing untold numbers of people more in need of therapeutic treatment than castigation. There is no doubt my age played a role in my distress as I was still looking to my mother as an anchor to ameliorate the confusing and surreal nature of what I was seeing. Additionally, with regard to stigma, I clearly remember not wanting anyone to know my grandfather was dealing with a mental disorder. Somehow, his mental illness would spill over onto me and I would become tainted, my mental competency would be questioned. Does it run in the family?

We were working on a project and I told her about my situation. She told me that going to counseling is very beneficial, that there was nothing to be afraid of and that she herself was attending it. She explained to me that it was an outlet alongside friends and family that would have limited bias and allow me to discuss these built up feelings without fear of disappointing them. I reflected over what she said and came to the realization that I had to try. How my family dealt with my decision to see a therapist was a big factor in whether or not I should or should not go back to therapy. My family loves me very much but has said many times that I didn't need it to get over my issues; instead they believed that i should just talk to them and learn to handle my issues over time. In the end, I decided that the best thing to do was not tell them at all. It is from this entire experience that I learned that it was not about them; it was about me. I had to try or else I would never learn to handle my anxiety or get to the state of mind that I wanted to reach. So after a few days I made an appointment to see a therapist and I have never regretted mt decision