Hello, my name
is Callum. I'm 19 years old and I experienced my first mental health issue about
18 months ago. I remember it like a light switch in my head. In my younger
years, I was confident and regularly participated in social events with
friends, got up on stage and was vocal in school classes. Looking back on this
part of my life now, it scares me to see how much I've changed. Before I was
carefree and now I struggle to talk to new people.
It began in
October 2013. I was 17 and was attending a big party, which the whole year of
my sixth form was invited to and this might sound cliché but my first instance
of depression was triggered by unrequited love; my interest in her was
essentially laughed off. I returned home from this party, ended up vomiting and
then after a terrible night's sleep I woke up, wishing that I hadn't. I suppose
at first I was hoping this was just a phase but these feelings ensued for
months. Sixth form was becoming a struggle every day and I'd escape into my own
world, headphones plugged in, playing my music so loudly that I couldn't hear
what people had to say. I think it was fairly noticeable that I wasn't doing
well, but one thing I can say is that these few months really showed me who my
friends are.
The Christmas
holidays came around and I was still struggling. I often questioned my existence
and it was the first time that I self-harmed, punching a wall until I bled. I
already wanted to escape Sixth Form, however following a slight public
humiliation after continuing to pursue this girl I liked, my depression got
worse. Over the holidays alone I lost around tow stone from not eating and had
barely said a word to anyone. During this period I was regularly asked by my
parents if anything was up, to which I replied with "no everything's
fine". My parents had a lot on their plate and I felt that they didn't
need my problems. That might sound absurd, but I felt as if I didn't matter to
anyone, family included.
In A-levels
there was a lot of pressure on exams; an area in which "Old Callum"
used to excel. That was certainly not the case come April 2014. With the
continued depression and bottling up of emotions teamed with the stress of
exams, I broke down. I had my first anxiety attack and it felt horrendous. I
was about 10 minutes from school when I turned to my mum and told her I
couldn't go in. She seemed a little confused, but I really couldn't go further.
After taking me home I sat on the floor of my room and cried listening to music
for a few hours. After a few days away from school with anxiety, my Dad dragged
me in and I was referred to counselling. It was really useful for this
particular time in my life; someone to talk to was what I needed and after a
couple of months things were starting to look up. Although I still felt down,
there was no more self harm and I was coping with my stress and anxiety levels
better than before.
After exams and
a summer of ups and downs of equal measure, I embarked on university life. It
was a mix of emotions for me. I couldn't wait to leave home, a place I
associated with depression but I was scared to meet new people and socialising,
especially given that I'm not much of a drinker! I was wrong. Although I was
practically silent for the meet and greet event in my accommodation block, I
came away with 3 fantastic friends, who I will get the pleasure of living with
next year.
Finally, things
were getting better. I was enjoying my course, I met amazing people and I was
in an exciting new city far away from home. The only problem I faced was that I
was still feeling depressed. I couldn't understand why and this drove me to become
really angry at myself. It had been a year since I started feeling this way and
despite everything being right, I still felt wrong. Although I was grateful
that I finally had a friend to talk to who had similar experiences and without
whom I'm not sure I could have made it through university.
After another
bad winter break and the largest mental breakdown I've suffered to date, I
realised something needed to be sorted out. A talk with my friends led me to
the GP, after which I got prescribed medication. Afterwards, I called my family
and explained what had happened. I wish I had done it sooner as even my dad,
who I did not always get on with, was compassionate and understanding. Needless
to say my family relationship has improved since.
I'm just shy of
a month into my course of medication and despite a few early hiccups things are
starting to improve with a few days of clarity, something I haven't felt since the
beginning of it all.
I hope my
journey has helped you know that you're not alone and I think if I can take
anything away from this, it would be to trust those close to you with your
mental health issues. Chances are, they will be there for you and a problem
shared is a problem halved. I know that it can be tough, but stick at it, it
will get better.
Callum.
