My Story: Cristina

Growing up in a stereotypical suburb with the most amazing family, I was very protected. I never felt any type of intense emotions of sadness or hopelessness, and I thought that was just how life was supposed to be: involving no emotion besides happiness. I would always see quotes saying how it’s okay to not be okay or all emotions are valid, and although they made logical sense, I couldn’t relate because I never saw a reason in life to be sad for no reason. I would hear about depression and anxiety and feel bad for those people, but I really could not truly understand what made people feel this way if there was no direct cause. My “perfect” life really bounded me to see only one way of living which I thought was the norm. I was a competitive swimmer, I excelled in school, I had great friends and family, so I didn’t really think I was permitted to feel sad or depressed since I had this incredible life.

Fall of 2017, I began my freshman year at The University of Notre Dame. This has been my dream school since I was little. I would fly out for a football game with my dad for his class reunions every year, admiring the campus and hoping that one day I would be able to become a student. And then, my dream came true. I was a student at Notre Dame, and I didn’t think anything could go wrong. I don’t think I understood the gravity of the change I was about to face. I was leaving my home in California, the only place I had ever lived, to live in the Midwest in a school where I knew no one. I was leaving my parents, who I was so close to (and acted as my therapists), to be completely independent and live with a random roommate. I had officially quit swimming, a sport that gave me my identity and self-worth. I was entering a whole new pool of incredibly intelligent students, becoming a small fish in a big pond. My ignorant, freshman-year-self did not fully understand how much these changes were going to impact me, but I soon found out.

It started with minor symptoms of napping all day after my classes and not wanting to get up out of bed. Then it slowly turned into minor panic attacks, intense negative thoughts that I could not escape, deep feelings of hopelessness, and then I slowly began to feel numb, like I had no purpose or identity and was completely detached from any emotions. Everything happened slowly, and I really did not understand any of it. I saw smiling faces and perfect lives on social media and felt like no one was feeling the same way I was feeling. In addition to feeling like I didn’t know myself, I found myself gaining some weight from the drinking I was doing on the weekends, poor eating, and no longer being a competitive athlete. Seeing my body change caused me to hate myself, hate how I looked, restrict what I ate, and just fully base my worth on what I looked like or how much I weighed. I remember calling my brother hysterically crying many nights, wondering why I felt this way and how I became this person. My parents assured me it was all part of the adjustment and that time would heal it. I tried very hard to appear okay and happy to my friends, but most of it was a facade.

At the end of my freshman year, I decided to see a counselor at the wellness center for the first time. I told her my story and how I was feeling. The emotions were so raw at the time I could not finish my story without crying. She assured me, just as my parents did that, this would heal, and that with time it would pass.

That summer after my freshman year I decided to go on a summer abroad trip to London with one of my close friends. That trip was incredible, and I met so many amazing new friends. For the first time in a while, I found myself enjoying life, feeling free, and just experiencing incredible moments with amazing friends. I was so happy on that trip. But right when I got home for the second half of summer, my mood completely depleted. I was not myself, sleeping almost all day and being in a terrible mood when I was awake. I couldn’t really talk to my parents without getting angry, and I went right back to hating how I looked and who I was. I realized that my time in London was just a distraction, and when I got home to some spare time and just my own company, all the depressive, negative thoughts came right back. I knew I couldn’t go on this way, so my Dad recommended I get professional help.

I started seeing a therapist that summer and it truly changed my life. I told her things I never thought I could confront, and she helped me develop effective mental tools and mechanisms to overcome these negative thoughts. At first, it was relieving and talking to her was such a release. Then, it became constructive. She explained to me that I had mild depression, but there were ways to treat it cognitively. These habits and tools took a long time to actually implement into my life. I saw it as similar to my physical health; if I wanted my mental health to be strong, I was going to have to work at it. When I went back to school, I was definitely improving and trying very hard to use the tactics she taught me. They certainly helped, but there was still a part of me that felt like it needed more. I was still hurting, and after a few breakdowns to my mom, I decided to try antidepressants.

I still implemented my mental mechanisms, breathing strategies, and therapy tools into my everyday life, but the antidepressants really helped stabilize my moods and stopped me from hitting super low points that took longer for me to recover from. I am still on them today and they have helped me tremendously.

It has now been about 3 years that I have been working through my depression with cognitive skills and medication. It has not been an easy journey, but I am definitely proud of my progress and how much I have grown. I have worked very hard to find value within myself, love myself, and understand that I am worthy despite how much I weigh or what I accomplish. For that, I am very proud. I do now see my struggles with my mental health as a blessing as they have allowed me to better understand people, lead my life with more empathy, and commit myself to spread awareness about mental health. It is all a process, as I have learned, and healing takes time. Mental illnesses are real and come in endless shapes and forms. We must all learn to judge less and become more compassionate, as you never know what people are going through, despite the facade they may put up. I am definitely still working through my negative thoughts and have bad days, but overall I am in a good place and want to continue to spread awareness about mental health struggles. The world needs a lot more compassion and empathy, and I hope to spread that to make people feel less alone.