Finals Season, Depression, and Things I Want to Experience Again.

It's finally the dreaded portion of the fall semester- the boss stage for those of us that haven't been keeping up with our studies, yet are too committed at this point to drop out, regardless of how necessary that might be. The thought of doing that, after all of the blood, sweat, and tears that have been shed on the journey to this hill, so the only way out is through. 

I find myself spending the majority of my nights as I plan to today, hunched over my computer, writing like a madman, with math tutorial videos playing as company. It makes me feel like a maniac. After a while, the numbers become familiar, and I find myself stopping my writing and reflecting to attempt math problems, and yet, it doesn't get any easier. It's enough to make me laugh hysterically in my dorm, making me thankful when no one else is home. The stress is enough to shatter even the sanest among my peers, myself included. It's gotten to the point that I'm not sure how much more I can take of the constant pressure. I have a scholarship that runs out at the end of next semester, and a part of me feels that this could be my excuse to leave this hellhole and try the vast opportunities that the world supposedly has to offer. 

I've had some very close calls these days. Recently, I got closer than I ever have to losing any chance at trying anything else in my life at all. I refuse to describe the event- none of you need to read it- but I was laying on the floor, phone in hand, tears streaming down my face, and I realized that I can't keep up with this any longer. Something needs to change or I will not make it out of here alive. I've always prided myself on my strength, my will, and my resolve to "keep on trucking", but next time I may not have the epiphany. I'm not sure what would happen the next time. This isn't healthy for me, and truthfully, I need to seek help for it, but my fear, the one that underlies all of my actions and drives me to do most things, prevents me. Why have humans evolved this mental block? What makes us say, "I can't tell anyone what I am experiencing", even when the alternative might kill us?

It's easy to tell people in similar positions to "seek help" if they begin to feel like the anxiety is seeping into the fissures of their mind and threatening to break the structure, but this is so much easier said than done. As I collapsed there, I called someone, the only person I could think of not being busy. This person was my lover at one point, and is now a dear friend- let's call them "N"- and the only person I could imagine not being occupied. Even in the total throes of despair, I felt like my unwellness was a burden to those I loved, for reasons the human mind can never explain. N picked up immediately, and I was tongue-tied. I didn't know what to say, so I simply said, "I just wanted to say hi, and let you know I love you." It isn't unusual for us to say that to each other, such is the depth of our shared experience, so I don't think they picked up on the desperation in my voice. "I love you" was the only way I could think of saying "I need help". N replied with a confused "I love you too, and...hi?" and I hung up. 

It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, and all I could do was tell this person that I loved them. N is not the closest person to me, not by a long shot, but they were at the top of my recent calls list for some odd reason. I'm not even sure if the call helped at all, but I got up, brushed myself off, and dried my face. Moments later, my brother and sister arrived, and I acted like everything was normal. For the rest of the evening, I was my normal self, despite the distress and fear I was under moments before. I wondered, as I was sitting there joking with everyone, how many other people had experienced this. Movies and awareness campaigns never show the person that acts as if nothing happened, although, of course, this wouldn't make for good TV I suspect. 

I'm glad I am still alive. Since then, I have thought of all the things that I love about life, and while it's illogical to say that I would have missed them, I am glad that I can have a chance to experience them again. Listening to my favorite music, drinking my favorite drinks, eating my favorite food, reading my favorite books... and then above that, the creative experiences I love so much. Writing, drawing, composing, painting. I could have never spent another day in a comfortable chair sketching my dog. I could have never sang another song in the shower, or written a short story that brings joy to my friends. I could have spent my last moments in complete agony, crying over something as ridiculous as school grades. It's worth it to stay here, even if it's hard.