Personal Narrative: My Major Depressive Disorder

When I was eleven years old, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament, more commonly known as the ACL while playing in a football game. Being only eleven years old, this was a pretty unusual injury as most ACL tears do not happen until mid to later teens. Hearing that I tore my ACL was pretty devastating. I did not know much about it, but I knew enough to know I would be out of sports for a long time. The next nine months of my life were spent with one goal in mind: getting back to sports.

The adversity that I have faced in my life is not something I look down upon. My challenges have pushed me to be the best person I can be and are the root of my success. High school has been an amazing, while also difficult, time for me. It seems like just yesterday I was walking in the doors for my first day of freshman year, unsure what to expect from the new environment. The opportunities that high school offer inspired me to take action and to become involved. Balancing my studies, athletics, job, and social life has become my greatest adversity. It has lead to sleepless nights and mental breakdowns as I face its challenges. These hardships have caused me countless injuries as I challenge my body and tears as I fail to reach my goals. I

Accomplishments take me one step closer to happiness and tranquility. For example, maintaining an “A” in a rigorous course, helping others that are struggling, cook for my family, etc. are minor achievements and events that have formed me into a better being. Sometimes, ignorance gets the best of me, and it does conquer my sweet, timid personality that I possess. Accordingly, my accolades never suggest nor imply I am better than anyone else. I never consider highly of myself because we are equally intelligent in our own separate ways. It is a way to build up my confidence level as I am an introvert myself.

I don’t recall having a hard time learning how to read. It was one of those things that just came easily to me for some reason. For the most part I enjoyed reading as well. The only time I didn’t enjoy reading was when I didn’t understand a certain word or a certain phrase. One of the strongest memories I have from learning to read was when I was unable to pronounce the word “the”.

I am still not fully recovered and I most likely won’t ever be, there will always be that little voice inside my head. I started my journey with addiction and recovery the summer before freshman year.

Growing up with mental illness they called me crazy, annoying, and angry. They looked at me differently. They’d even talk about it amongst themselves, but never offered guidance. That’s the problem with society these days. Everyone loves a party, but no one wants to clean up the mess. There are many reasons I have chosen to enlighten my readers on severe clinical depression. Not to get pity for my actions and blatant disregard for others. I write for awareness because, so many people today need help and no one really knows how to help them. Often someone’s first cry for help is his or her last and I just don’t think that’s right. In this story I will tell you about my mental health, how I hit bottom, and my getting back on track.

Depression is a silent killer. I remember waking up one morning to find my mother —a particularly tough woman—sitting at the edge of her bed, hair brush in one hand and an open palm in the other with a defeated, glazed, stare on her face. That sight scared the reasoning out of me. I did not know what was was wrong; I did not know what to do. I was scared. I knew what depression was from all the psychology classes I had taken but this seemed different it seemed like it was more than just sadness. This looked like…well…defeat. It’s hard because she looked at me and asked, “What is happening to me?” Usually I 'm the one with the answers. I could have given her a rational answer, backed by my little knowledge on depression, but I was at a loss.

To most, Post-traumatic stress disorder is a phrase synonymous with war veterans and coping victims. But to me, PTSD simply sums up my childhood. My mother immigrated to the United States when she was twelve years old. An orphan of the Cambodian genocide, she was scarred mentally and physically by years of enslavement and inconsolable abandonment. My mother’s PTSD gave way to her everyday paranoia, and being raised by her has made growing up very challenging.

The transition from eighth grade to ninth grade is one of the most difficult but unforgettable things a student must do in his adolescence. For me, it was filled with new opportunities of taking Ap classes and joining clubs. One of these cubs was Youth and Government (Y&G). For as long as I can remember my brother, Riad, has boasted about how amazing Y&G is and how it has changed his life. My brother is three years older then me, so as a freshman he was a senior in Y&G. I was so excited for the year due to the fact that i got to experience Y&G with my brother. Little did I know that senior year changed my brother.

Hey Priya as you know i was gone for week and missed a hefty amount of work which in turn made my grades drop significantly however what you don 't know (probably unless my guardians told you) that week i was gone i was actually placed into a psychiatric ward (heritage oaks) for that week due to my self harm i was deemed a danger to myself and i had to go to heritage oaks there i was put on anti-depressant because apparently i am depressed and i have been feeling this way for a while,ironically however since the anti depressants I 've been having a lot more suicidal thoughts and it makes it hard to work when your questioning whether i should live anymore and why should i do anything were all gonna end up dead, now i don 't really like to use

“Oh please! You guys say that you want to move into this new house because it looks great. The real reason is because the commute to my therapist is much faster. I’m fine mom and dad! I don’t need antidepressants nor do I need a therapist. Maybe the real reason why I have been depressed all these years is because you have no interest towards my life. Ever since you thought I starting having problems, you look at me like I am a deformed stranger!”

When I was thirteen years old, I found out that my dad had PTSD. Me being a little girl I did not understand what PTSD was. My dad has been in the Army for twenty-two years and has seen a lot of traumatic things which has caused him to have PTSD. PTSD is a Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) which is a type of anxiety disorder. It can occur after you have gone through an extreme emotional trauma that involved the threat of injury or death.

I constantly stay ‘plugged into’ my recovery community in a variety of different ways. I know that it plays a huge part in my personal recovery in helping me stay clean and sober. A few of the ways I am able to stay connected are through hospitals and institutions, as well as picking up service commitments at my home group. I am a big advocate of H&I’s because they were a key component of my recovery when I was in treatment. I was tremendously inspired when I heard someone who was doing well in the outside world share their experience, strength, and hope. I believe that coming into a treatment center to share the message gives the clients that are in treatment a great amount of hope and shows them that they are very capable of staying clean

It was a cold November morning in the valley of Cowan, when I fired my first shot. It was a smooth and clean feeling after I pulled the trigger. I than saw the deer hunker as the slug hit its side, and it began to run away from us. Dad, knowing I had made a good shot, still decided to jump out of the blind window to end the animals suffering. Unfortunately, when his foot caught, it was all over from then. Once, I was inside the blind and the next I was in the cold crisp air. I then saw Dad on the ground cursing himself for jumping through the window.

And I think a couple people will remember me that way because I have been very supportive and helpful to those who have needed me. Like Tatyana, Sophia or Kaiya and other people. Whenever they have a problem they facetime me and we rant and rant and rant for usually more than three hours a day. I give them options for what they should do in their situation I assure them. I help them cope and more than anything we talk, we make fun of each other, and we sometimes have actual sessions were we write what happened to let things out. Some are one on one sessions and some are sessions with more than one client (friend). Most of the time they aren 't serious but they can