Came for the Doctorate, Stayed for the Mental Health Counseling

Originally published on claudiaflobil.wordpress.com

Content Warning: mention of depression

I recently went back to school to get my doctorate in physical therapy. The past three to four years have been a constant preparation for what I believed would culminate in getting into the program. I was wrong. 

I've always believed that I'm my best self when I'm a student. I get to ignore my proper self and give all of my attention to my student self. I find comfort in new learning opportunities. I chase the novelty, the struggle, the mastery... I obsess over making new pieces of information fit in the ever-growing puzzle of my lived experiences and accumulated knowledge. I obsess over making things make sense. I obsess over making things perfect. I obsess over being perfect. Being a student fosters my unhealthy need to seek perfection. 

Being in school consistently made it possible for me to ignore my existing mental health issues. However, this time around my fool-proof technique didn't quite work. I was steadily deteriorating. It's difficult learning and mastering hours upon hours of new material. It's nearly impossible to do the same when you can't get yourself out of bed for four straight days.

I had worked out a comprehensive study schedule, created a comfortable and welcoming studying space, and took precise measures in time management that would allow for me to be successful. However, no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't create a scenario where my depression couldn't get to me. I was sleeping 10-12 hours. I was still waking up drained and without an ounce of energy. I couldn't get up and start the day. I was too exhausted to get out of bed, but becoming progressively more drained the more I stayed in bed. It was a vicious cycle I constantly tried to break- that I'm still trying to break. 

I considered it a win every time I sat on my desk. However, once I made it there, I couldn't concentrate. I knew that I was trying my hardest and that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to. Nevertheless, I still felt like I was wasting my time. I felt like I wasn't doing enough. How was I supposed to be a perfect doctor with a perfect routine, a perfect weekly schedule, and perfect grades, if I couldn't even get through 1 chapter worth of material?

Once I began to get to close to the bottom of the slope, I decided to take advantage of the school's free* counseling office. Maybe this time around I actually needed help. Maybe this time I couldn't get myself out of it. After one of our sessions my counselor expressed that I might need extra help if I wanted to be able to do the minimum amount of school work required to stay in the program. She referred me to a doctor's office that works on a sliding scale. She told me I had to ask for a mental health evaluation to determine if I could benefit from medication. I had to ask for help. I felt a little bit apprehensive, to say the least. 

The doctor went through the usual questionnaire (by the way, it's really easy to skew the results as to not raise any red flags. They should really come up with something different), this time I felt like being honest.

"Do you feel like a failure to your family? To yourself?"

-I mean, yeah. But doesn't every other millennial?

"Sleeping habits?"

-I didn't leave the bed/couch last week, but like, that's pretty normal. People do that. 

"Have you ever thought about hurting yourself?"

-Well, yeah, but not like actively. You know how sometimes when you're driving really fast and you drive past one of those dividers or those concrete support beams and you think "What's stopping me from driving into that wall? I could really just drive off right now. What if I just did" and then you feel like you're going on autopilot but then you're too tired and you just wanna go home and go to bed and the thought goes away? Yeah. 

"Would that make things easier?"

-Well yeah, of course!

Apparently that's not the normal answer. She made me pinky promise I'd ask for help when I needed it. I'm scheduled to follow up with her in a month to determine what course to take when it comes to depression meds. 

I've only had a few sessions with my counselor. I know that the process will be slow, but I hope that something good will come off this. I'm still not sure if the reason I finally decided to seek help was because I'm ready to take better care of myself and love myself to the best of my abilities, or because I got frustrated that I wasn't the perfect student I'm supposed to be. I'm sure we'll talk about that in a future session. 

Throughout this process I'm realizing that going back to school wasn't a culmination. It is the beginning of a new learning relationship with myself. Hopefully it ultimately leads to a more caring, a more loving, and a more understanding relationship with myself. 

*It's not free. I pay a lot of money in tuition and "other fees"

 ****If you are feeling suicidal please call 911 immediately or call one of the local crisis centers at the New York State Office of Mental Health site.