Truth Be Told

It all started in the summer of my freshman year. I started losing motivation to do anything – I didn’t want to get out of my bed, I stopped eating and showering… I just didn’t want to move. However, I didn’t really think it was a big deal. I just thought it was how it was. I didn’t want to care anymore.

At first, no one was able to help me with my situation. My parents were at work, and my siblings were still young. It was my boyfriend at that time who knew that something was wrong. He insisted that I should talk to his mother because she worked at a high school and knew more about teenagers. I eventually met her, and after our conversation she told me I needed help immediately. She feared I would hurt myself. I refused and asked her not to tell my parents. My parents had high expectations of me, always pushing me to achieve more, especially at school. I can’t say I have the best relationship with my parents because it seems that they don’t really understand how I feel; but they love me and I don’t want to disappoint them. Plus, I still thought it was not a problem at that point. I felt that depression didn’t seem to be a real thing, because it isn’t something you can see from the outside. Also, sometimes when you are in a situation, you just cannot see how serious the situation truly is. You would think it is normal. Like, it is how it is, you know.

My boyfriend’s mother was in a dilemma. She didn’t want to lose my trust, but she also believed that my parents should know what was happening. She did call my parents later and told them about my situation. That night when my parents were home, they told me that it was okay if I wanted to see a therapist. I agreed.

This is how my struggle with depression really started.

I went to see a therapist right then. I was being put into a 2-week program, usually for people who are hospitalized for mental issues and have received intensive care before, so that they can learn skills that will help them adapt to daily life. I have to admit that I didn’t feel comfortable to receive therapy as it still felt not like a big problem. I thought this was how life was to me. After a while, I decided I would stop taking those antidepressants they gave me. The medicine seemed to be useless. I didn’t want to take them.

However, I couldn’t control my mood very well. I stopped contacting my boyfriend. I would start yelling in my home for no particular reason. As I said, I didn’t really care about anything anymore. Before that summer, I had felt so overwhelmed by my emotions and I never knew what to do with them. But after all this had happened, when feelings just kept hitting me nonstop around the clock, I felt nothing. Life was so overwhelming and I didn’t know what to feel. Only numbness was left.

One night, my parents brought me out for a family dinner, to take a break from what was going on. On our way to the restaurant, my mom said something that rubbed me in the wrong way, and I started screaming in the car. I continued to yell at my parents in the restaurant. After we went home, I realized what I really did and felt so sorry for treating my parents so badly. That night, I decided that I couldn’t take it anymore. I caused so much trouble to my parents. I kept hurting the people I love, and I did not know how to stop this.

So I tried to commit suicide.

I actually didn’t know how to ‘do’ it. I got my antidepressants out and took them one by one in the bathroom, not sure if it would work or not. I mean, if they could really kill me. Because of what had happened earlier that night, my mom was worried about me. She knocked on the door and asked what I was doing. I told her I was fine, but she insisted that I had to open the door. So I had no choice and gave up my plan. I was not able to go back to the bathroom as my mom would know. That day, my mom stayed up all night for me, to make sure that I was okay.

When I went to see my therapist the next day, I was shivering because of an overdose of antidepressant. I confessed to her that I had tried to kill myself. Later she put me into intense care in the hospital for two days as she feared that I would hurt myself any further. After this, I had to go to the 2-week program again. My parents knew that I wasn’t taking my antidepressants, so they made me take the drugs under their watch every day since then, to make sure I really took them.

Eventually, I had to skip the fall quarter of my second year. When I went back to UCLA in winter, things were not turning much better. Being at school meant that I would compare myself with other people, and everyone was so smart. I wanted to do well, but I couldn’t. I felt so much pressure to a point that, like what had happened earlier, I didn’t want to care anymore. So I stopped going to class. I got drunk all the time, and I slept with random, different guys every week. Doing this could stop me from thinking. I finally could escape from what I was feeling.

I didn’t know how, but my parents found out about my situation. Over the weekend, they drove to LA to find me without telling me in advance. They told me I only had two options left: 1) Stop what I was doing immediately and go to class again; 2) They would cut their financial support and I would need to pay tuition myself, and I would no longer be welcomed back home. This was really a turning point of my life because I do love my parents and I don’t want to fail them. To be honest, I also was not ready to support myself for college. I knew I needed to change.

I tried to get everything back on track. My parents put a GPS app on my phone, so that they would know where I was, making sure that I did go to class. For each class that I miss, they would charge me $20. I finally started to care about school again. Sometimes, I would still have a bad day and wouldn’t get off my bed. However, I am trying to be better because I know my parents love me. My major is Chemical Engineering and it is not easy at all; but I choose to continue pursuing this major even though I can only be a below-average student when compared with others, because I want to prove myself, to show my achievement to my parents. I want to make them proud of me. I know I can accomplish this. In the following summer, I got an internship that was related to my field. Being able to do so made me feel good. That summer was still hard for me, but it was better than the last one.

In my third year, I found that I also had ADHD and began to receive treatment. This is not easy as I often lose track of my thoughts, which are disorganized. I can’t concentrate well. When I read for my classes, I forget what it is about very quickly. I need to listen to class broadcasts several times and spend hours writing my notes. Yet I am not giving up. I usually make a to-do list to help myself organize my schedule, and sometimes I just directly write it on my hand. I have to pay extra hard work in order to keep up, but I keep trying and continue on.

I still have days that I hit bottom and don’t want to do anything. There are still times that I need to skip a class or two because I feel on the edge. However, I’m trying my best to hang in there. As I have said, I want to do this to show everyone I am capable, to make my parents proud. After all, I think it is important to believe in oneself. Accepting yourself as who you are is an essential part of becoming who you want to be. This is how we can motivate ourselves to carry on in life in the face of obstacles.