How Depression Affected My Freshman Year

The week before I began my freshman year at Temple University, I was overwhelmed with fluctuating emotions. I was admittedly nervous, but I was more excited than anything. I felt ready for a new challenge, new friends, and a new life. While I was close with my family, I felt as if I was ready to fly from the nest and make this big move into the city of Philadelphia.

On the day of move-in, I unloaded all of my crap, met my roommates, and settled into dorm life. When it was time to say goodbye to my parents, I did not cry; honestly I just wanted them to leave so I could begin this new chapter of my life.

The first few weeks were overwhelming. I was showered by fliers for extra-curricular activities, free Temple gear, and new students attempting to navigate throughout the campus. My classed seemed simple enough and I was making friends. I truly felt like I belonged at Temple. I walked around campus with my head held high and a grin from ear to ear. I joined a club, went to parties and football games with friends, got along with my roommates, and had phenomenal grades. Everything seemed to be going perfectly!

That all changed around mid-October. The leaves were changing and the air was chilled. The on-campus excitement seemed to die down dramatically. The pressure of midterms had begun and no one was looking up from their books. The once energetic, happy campus had become a sad, cold, and miserable one. No one had time for fun anymore; everyone was focused on their studies and themselves. The friends that I once had moved on to form cliques of their own and I was stuck on my own.

It all happened so suddenly. One minute I was on top of the world and the next I was deep in a pit of solitude. With all of the loneliness, I found myself spiraling into my inner thoughts. I started to think about my family and how much I missed them, especially my dog. Out of sheer paranoia, I questioned what I had done wrong with my new friends that drove them away. I started to focus on these things instead of studying or going to parties. I was holed up in my room most of the time and I never wanted to leave.

I had been diagnosed with depression and anxiety at a very young age, and it typically took hold of my life during school months. I had felt like this before, so I brushed it off, thinking that I was just having another episode and that I would get through it. No big deal.

As time progressed, things only got worse. My grades started slipping and I would call my parents every night crying about how lonely I was. One night, I called them from the public study lounge in my dorm and it ended in a full panic attack. I could not stop crying and my parents were so worried that they drove an hour to pick me up and take me home in the middle of the night.

I felt relieved sleeping in my own bed that night. It was comforting to be somewhere so familiar after being incompasses in uncertainty for so long. I felt safe.

When I woke up in the morning, my parents were waiting for me in the living room. They suggested that I see a therapist through the college’s free counselling service and that I drop out of my math class because I was on the verge of failing. Their suggestions were sensible and realistic; I understood why they wanted me to lighten my course load, but for some reason, my stubborness would not let me drop the class.

I went back to school and began to see a therapist. She was very helpful and I liked her a lot, but something was still missing. I still felt empty inside, and the loneliness continued to creep up on me. I could not get myself out of bed, I watched Netflix more than I did my homework, and my grades continued to fall. All the while, final exams were quickly approaching.

I realized that I needed to get my shit together ASAP and crammed excessively. I studied night and day to attempt to pass all of my classes. Exams came and went and I patiently awaited my scores. All of my classes were passed... except for math. I was devastated. The word failure was pulsating through my mind. I had never failed a class before and I was extremely embarrassed.

Over winter break, I discovered what it was that I was missing at school: my family. Seeing my dog, my older sister, and my parents on a daily basis gave me joy. I realized that I tried to move on too soon and I was not ready to give up my old life entirely. I made the decision that I was going to visit home every weekend so that I could take a break from the throes of the college lifestyle.

When the spring semester began, I tried out my new plan to visit my family and it helped immensely. I continued to see my therapist, I retook math, and I signed up for a mental health resource that allowed me to have extra time on assignments. I began to get my life back on track. The weather began to change and so did my attitude. I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

My freshman year was far from perfect; I had to forge my own version of perfect. I still have a long way to go in order to adjust within this new life, but I have hope. I strongly believe that my sophomore year is going to be so much better for me. I refuse to let my mental health take me down again. I will persist. I will win. I will thrive.