I was diagnosed with depression in eighth grade by a girl with a red frazzled mane of hair and angel kisses from head to toe. She was the loudest and most decisive friend I had. Her fierceness led a group of outcasts. Though she amended that I could simply be lonely and not depressed. After she diagnosed me I took the label in stride. I knew some information on depression and suicide but I dug further.
I had the following symptoms: prolonged sadness; irratability; decreased appetite; general fatigue; headaches; indecisiveness; incapable of concentrating; strong feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and helplessness; lingering invasive thoughts; and loss of interest in favored activities. These symptoms are more blanket descriptions however and Looking at a list on CDC or Doctor MD is about as effective a diagnosis as looking at my horoscope.
I befriended this girl with a frazzled mane a year ago. She was nice to me the first couple days of school before my schedule got shuffled and I no longer had the class with her. The first week of eighth grade I was working on an assignment with five other boys. I was trying to focus but they started discussing some unsavory stories. It’s like they were trying to top each other’s story. Before they really started to get into it a boy with a white smile that caused a dimple to appear asked if they should be talking about this stuff in front of me. I said I was trying to focus on the work and not listening. I really was trying but I’m better at listening than I am at reading. I’d never heard of the Vegas Strip in such detail before. I didn’t know what to do with this knew information. I was a calculator being asked to divide by zero. Sitting there with incomplete work and unprocessed information I formulated a plan. I would simply talk to my closest friend next period, the only class I had with her, as she would know what to do. It was PE. The class was the first physical exercise I’d really done in two years. I didn’t manage to talk to her during class and I was still red faced as I left the locker room 5 minutes late to lunch. The cafeteria was full. I felt so alone. Until I was the red hair. She was surrounded but at the end of the table. I went over and squatted next to her. Trying to be casual I said, "Hi."
"Hey. What’s wrong? You’re all pink? What happened?"
I burst into tears and explained the conversation the five boys had not knowing what else to blame for my break down. I didn’t comprehend that I was more distressed but being unable to talk through what happened with my friend and not having a seat at lunch than anything the boys had said.
She knew what to do though. I followed frazzly hair straight to the principle. I repeated the experience in his office. He asked names and I provided them. One was a new boy who didn’t talk much another had a dimple and stood up for me. I mostly just thought he was cute. A counselor who saw us enter and followed took me to her office where I spent the following class period until I finally stopped crying.
I discovered later that some of the boys were suspended and those who weren’t were givin in class suspension. My teacher of that class made a point of never seating me with those boys for the entirety of the following year. Outside of that initial panic it was a fairly good year. I lost twenty pounds in the semester of PE due to what seems to be a combination of physical activity and decreased appetite. This weight loss is what sparked the diagnosis from the girl with angel kisses head to toe.
My Freshman year was worse... ok do y’all actually care about the struggles of a middle class freshman?
Blah blah blah I still have depression but I’ve been diagnosed by a professional blah blah blah put some personal experiences. I feel like my first panic attack was the band one and the one that sticks out to me is hc.