This excerpt is from my new book, Fade Out of Sadness, a book designed to help an individual battling mental illness recognize, control and emerge from the negative feelings that plague them. Depression and anxiety awareness is rising as more people are recognizing the symptoms and making strides to be better. Fade Out Of Sadness is not a guide to a happy life or a “how-to” book on solving your problems. It is an informative yet inspirational tool to tackle life’s most difficult moments…
When I recognized my depression, I realized I stood locked in a glass, soundproof box.
People saw my mouth open but just thought I was yawning when in fact screams rushed from my heart. My class assignments were a blur. I walked around campus like a ghost. I wanted to be invisible to my mentors, professors, sorority sisters, friends and campus organizations. I blew in the wind. But, they saw me as if I wore a scarlet letter on my chest and everyone assumed I wore it proudly. They saw my disinterest and lack of effort. They saw my attitude shift, but, I didn’t care. They had no understanding of the thoughts that ran through my head. At times I felt like I was falling while standing still, my mind suspended in space. I prayed I wouldn’t land in hell, although I felt like hell was the only place I belonged. While everyone else smiled in the sun and planned their future lives, I spent my junior year of college hiding behind pain. Every time someone talked to me, it sounded like they were screaming—telling me to snap out of it and pay attention. To be more like them.
WATCH: What Does Depression Feel Like? From Fade Out of Sadness Author
Hiding helped me avoid small talk and campus socializing. I took refuge in my room wrapped in a blanket watching movies. At every chance, I did just that, spending ten or twelve hours bingeing on movies. It turned into the ultimate escape. I knew I was free to let go of my pain during those hours as my eyes were glued to the television. Hope and strength glittered from the characters. They inspired me to push forward and reassured me that life looked brighter. But the inspiration faded as the credits appeared.
Unexpectedly, life came knocking on my door and I could no longer escape my pain. My grades were suffering, my bills were piling up and people were watching me suffer from a distance. Embarrassed about my grades and who I used to be just a few months prior, I needed to actually do something to change. The universe whispered to me, “It’s time to get up and get out. Your moment of sadness is lingering too long and now the world needs you.”
Ashamed to share my feelings to friends and family, I researched ways to get me out of this slump. For the fear of being judged, I didn’t want to tell my closest allies how I felt. Depression in the black community was not a hot topic at this time and the thought of people thinking I was crazy, weak, soft, or insecure frightened me. In order to avoid any further suspicion, I simply called the campus- counseling center and set up an appointment. For the next two years, I visited the center every week, slowly clearing the smoke of my depression. At first I thought these sessions might be hard, but they were peaceful. They allowed me to let out my true feelings and make sense of them after hearing them aloud.
When venting to close friends, family and even our hairstylist, we are often subjected to judgment. Therapy is different. It is liberating. Sometimes I talked about my dreams for the future and left sad because my reality didn’t reflect what I wanted. Sometimes I left relieved and refreshed. There were good moments and bad moments. The winters were the worst. The Midwest gray skies and freezing temperatures never made it easy to get up and get going. Even though the spring and summer months were better, loneliness still lingered. Lost with no destination, it took me a while to realize I had the power to fix my life.
The summer before my senior year brought peace and mental alignment. I took summer classes and held a part-time job near the university. I spent my days and nights alone, with the exception of a few friends dropping by to check on me or drag me out of my tiny apartment to have some fun. I cooked more and even changed my diet. I ate more fruits and vegetables and start drinking tea. I gained more confidence, slowly figuring out who I was meant to be. As I entered my senior year, I found peace in 18 credit hours and released my frustration preparing for a dance team audition.
Fast forward through that year, I went on to graduate, feeling a huge sense of relief but also a weight of fear and sadness. I felt bad for myself. College was the end of an era and I’d missed so much of it in the trance of depression. There were moments where my judgment was clouded with negative thoughts and pain, preventing me from being my true self. I also made decisions that taught me valuable lessons. If anyone tells you going to college is all about classes and partying, I’m telling you it’s not true. College is so much more than that. You lose yourself and you find yourself several times. At least I did.
Although I felt sad and weird at graduation, I felt as though I’d made it to the end. Now I could start over. I imagined a beautiful show of fireworks going off and my life leading me far into the sky of success. Well… there were no fireworks…. But, I found happiness in myself, landing a pretty cool job as a government staffer, traveling with my friends and moving out of my parents’ home. I found happiness in the passionate young adult stuff, something I’d never experienced before.
A few years later, depression hit me again and I was back to square one. I had no idea how I was going to live the life I’ve always wanted to live. Hope was a thing of the past and I just knew the evilness of life now had the best of me. I couldn’t cry because my tears were dried up. I was stagnate. It seemed as if nothing in my life was moving and I began to do the one thing I never wanted to do— seek external happiness. I wanted other people to make me happy. I wanted to find a job that made me happy. I wanted social media to make me happy. I wanted to move far away only because I thought that would make me happy.
Defeat had pushed me to the ground and fear grasped my neck.
While working part-time at a boutique, I was afraid someone I knew would walk in the door and ask me how life was going. Unbeknownst to the world, I bounced around from different family member’s homes, had barely any money and cried myself to sleep most nights. I often wanted to escape the room where I laid my head at night. I hated it. The fact that I was no longer living in my own home crushed my pride. Even when I didn’t have much gas in my car I still needed to drive as far away from the reality as possible. I felt that no one wanted to be around me. I didn’t even want to be around me. My family thought I had ruined my life. Some people even told me I was stupid and a disappointment. (Trust me, I was not a disappointment. Just lost.) So I drove past beautiful homes hoping I would gain a sense of motivation. But, it didn’t work. At every second of my day, I felt like life was tossing me around like an unsecured passenger in the backseat of a police car.
After a year or so, my happiness high had returned for roughly six months then disappeared again. It was another draining cycle of depression. How could I be back at square one for the third time? Well, it’s called recurrent depression. During an episode of depression a connection forms between your negative thinking patterns and your mood. So every time you feel that mood, negative thoughts rise and you fall back into a spiral…
Read the full excerpt from Nicole’s book by by clicking here.
You can also purchase her book by clicking here.
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