I think I remember being diagnosed with depression when I was around 15 in high school. I had been bullied quite a lot for my height, and for my ideological beliefs (I was a progressive atheist in a conservative town in California). I ended up hiding it for a really long time, well into my first and second year in college. I was honestly quite ashamed of how I felt. It took a lot of courage to tell someone that I had come very close to killing myself, but their comforting words really helped me to hold on.

I think the first thing that helped me was telling a few people that I really trusted. For the first time, in college, I felt like I trusted someone enough for them to know. And, I think, the responses I got were mostly positive. A friend recommended I see a psychologist, that there wouldn't be any stigma between us if I did, and that she thought it would help. I still felt pretty crappy even after beginning--you know those days--when you don't even want to get up out of bed and go to class or go make breakfast. But to his credit, I bonded with my psychologist (hi Jim!) and we ended up opening a lot of sore wounds that needed to be talked about.

I ended up taking acid a few times, and though one of my trips was rather stressful, it did change my outlook, both the good and the bad trips. It forced me to really step back and reevaluate the more unsavory parts of my personality that I wanted to repress. A lot of my unhappiness was because of other people, sure, but it was mostly a form of self-loathing that I figured out that I had to change. I was still very insecure.

Sometime in the months after I decided to try a prescription for Prozac--I ended up waiting through the summer because my university psychiatrist wanted to be able to observe me better during my normal academic environment, to which I reluctantly agreed.

I'm looking at this little white pill, is it going to help me? The first week or two was more of the same, still the same insecurity and self-loathing, but eventually, something clicked. The fog rolled away and I saw myself in a truly different light again. I felt like a lot of my depression stemmed from a frame of mind I had; I think at a certain point I almost wanted to be depressed because it was at that point a part of my identity.

Along the way I started dating my ex; she was my first real girlfriend, and I have to say, I'm grateful for how patient she was with me. When I told her she never judged me and said that it was okay with her--that meant a lot to me, to put myself in a vulnerable position and have someone appreciate that for what it was worth. Before I knew it, I was getting laid regularly! For someone with low self-esteem, I can say that this was pretty great for my mental-health (and working out, both inside and out of bed helped too). When I started feeling impotent in bed (yeah, embarassing, I know), I decided to stop taking Prozac. But as I stopped taking the pills, that frame of mind lingered, and I thought, you know what? Maybe it's not as bad as I wanted it to be. My relationship wasn't perfect; ultimately we ended up breaking up and getting back together a few times, but what I think what was important was that feeling of being wanted, that it's okay to be me, and that someone appreciated that. And I think, despite the heartbreak, and despite the (now) lack of sex I finally feel confident to tackle my problems instead of letting them tackle me. I felt like I had gained a perspective I either couldn't access or just didn't want to hear. And even though some days aren't as great as others, I still think I'm doing tremendously better.