Ignoring My Passion Was Killing Me

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation

On Tuesday, November 16th, 2021, I had a mental breakdown. The morning of my breakdown, my computer broke. It was the perfect time for such a thing to ensue as I was already severely burnt out overwhelmed, and depressed. To top it off, finals season and large essay and project deadlines were fast approaching. At this point, it would not take much to push me over the edge. Any minor inconvenience that would, under normal circumstances, be a non issue, would now cause me to spiral. My dad is usually able to solve any tech issues I'm having, but he was a 6 hour drive away, and I knew the damage that had been done could not be fixed over the phone. I called him anyway because I wanted someone else to know how shitty I was feeling even if he couldn’t help. I began crying as I explained to him what happened. Eventually, I hung up the phone and started getting ready for my 9:30 am philosophy class so I wouldn’t be late.

I went in the kitchen started making breakfast, and began crying again. This was unusual as I am normally able to confine my crying to my room. I imagined my roommate walking out of her room and seeing me balling and probably being very shocked and confused. I wiped my tears and kept moving. I had to. I figured I would stop crying once I got around people because that’s what usually happened. However, to my surprise, tears kept falling when I got on the bus.

My computer breaking was just a trigger, a catalyst to my breakdown. This semester had been really difficult for me. Ever since the end of my junior year, I grew incredibly anxious about my future. Based on what I was studying currently and the past internships and clubs I had been involved in, the most logical and easiest next step would be to get a Masters in Public Health upon graduation. However, when I would look through what my curriculum would be and imagine myself, August 2022, sitting in a grad school classroom, I felt not a hint of excitement. This terrified me. I always hated school and the structure of it. I sat in my classes every semester thinking, “Why am I doing this? What is the point?” I was always stressed, I always felt behind, and I never felt I had the energy or the time once my school work was done to do the things I really enjoyed. Public health was interesting to me and I knew that I wanted to help people, but I also knew that my current trajectory would never provide me with true fulfillment. However, even knowing this, I could not find the mental energy to even consider alternate plans or paths.

I gave up on myself and on finding a path that would bring me more joy and I gave into the capitalistic structure of our society. I gave into this structure that values a college degree over mental and physical health and tells us that creative careers don't make any money. Like many other seniors in college, I felt like I had to excel in school and simultaneously figure out what I was doing after graduation with deadlines quickly approaching. I was generally confused about the entire process and overwhelmed with all of the options. I also have over $100,000 in student loan debt which made me feel like I needed a lucrative career to realistically pay off my loans. I was depressed and I felt trapped in a life lacking purpose. I had similar feelings since middle school that never left me, so I wondered if this was just a preview of how the rest of my life would be. If it was, then I wondered what the point of it all was and where I would find the motivation to keep going. (There were other factors contributing to my depression that I will get into in future posts, but this was the primary cause of my breakdown.)

I wiped my tears quickly at first because I didn’t want anyone else on the bus to see. But they took a life of their own and just kept falling no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. I wondered if the white man sitting next to me could see. If he could, I wondered what he was thinking. I grew tired of wiping my tears over and over and over again and eventually, I just let them fall and sit on my face. I stopped caring what people might think and instead, I started wondering,

"Why can’t people know how sad I am? Why does it have to be a secret? Why is it rude or inappropriate to allow others to witness your true and honest thoughts and emotions? Why do I have to be alone with these awful feelings? Who made this rule? What would happen if people knew I was sad?"

This felt like one of the lowest lows I had ever experienced in my 21 years of life. I had been dealing with undiagnosed major depression since I was 14. However, I never seriously considered ending my life. I’ve always been scared of death and of the unknown that happens after. I thought it would be dramatic and I knew my family would be devastated. I also thought it would take a lot of work and planning and I thought it was possible that I would regret it. However, in this moment, as I was walking to my philosophy class with tears in my eyes, I seemed to forget all of those reasons. I just felt hopeless and like everything I did, moment to moment, day to day, week to week, year to year, was pointless. I thought, "When would I do something that mattered?" I watched all the cars speeding past, and I thought about how easy it would be to just walk in front of one of them and put an end to all my suffering. And not in the way that broke college students joke about. I had never had such a vivid thought about suicide before, and it scared me. I felt I was getting more and more depressed as the years went on, and I was headed down a dark path.

I got to my philosophy class and the crying still didn’t stop. I left class, went into the bathroom in the building, sat on the toilet, and cried my eyes out. Knowing that no one knew how miserable I was made me feel even worse. I felt like a speck of dust that could just float away and cause no disruption. I felt like I was drowning in plain sight and everyone else was breathing just fine. I thought, “How could no one know how terrible I felt?” But then, I started thinking more rationally, and I think that this mindset shift made a world of a difference. "No one would know how I was feeling if I didn’t tell them." I still thought that they either wouldn’t care or they wouldn’t understand and therefore they couldn’t help me, so there was not point in telling them. But I sent a text to my parents anyway letting them know how I was feeling because I didn’t know what else to do. I was really really honest for once and I was nervous about how they would react. I was afraid they would either freak out and get really worried or they would not understand and minimize my feelings. However, I was relieved with their response. They called me very concerned and emotional and my mom left work and drove to come get me.

I instantly felt so much relief that I would have some kind of break from school and that I would be surrounded by family. I truly believe that the love and compassion my parents showed me during this time saved my life. I spoke to a counselor at my school until my mom arrived and they were able to give me some hope and get me an excuse letter for my classes. They also told me I should look into anti-depressants which I will be starting soon. Once my mom got to my school, we talked on the car ride home about everything. She affirmed to me that I didn’t need to have everything figured out for next year and that I should follow a path that I resonated more with.

I had always thought that I needed a Masters degree in Public Health as a back up so that I had options, but it never excited me. I always thought a creative career wasn’t practical, but my mind would never let me forget what I knew I really wanted to do. Many successful people say that the psychological insurance that comes with having a Plan B also comes at a price, but I always thought I would be the exception. Turns out, I was wrong and they were right. I can’t do both. I can’t take the safe route. The “security” I was holding onto was making me depressed. I had to commit fully. I’ve known that my passion was helping, educating, and inspiring people through film and writing since I was 12, but I always pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. I didn't think I was capable, but I now know that it is vital I push past all of my fear and self doubt so that I can share my unique gifts with the world.

Currently, I have no post grad plans, and that's okay. I have a lot of different thoughts and ideas, but nothing is solidified. I can just say that whatever it is, I must find true fulfillment in it because I strongly believe that my sanity, my joy, and my life depends on it. And for the first time in my life, I feel truly free, I am looking forward to my future, and I am grateful.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!