Leaving the counseling office, I had a lot on my mind. People kept telling me to stick it out and that I would feel so proud that I made it - that I would look back on my time at Catholic and be proud that I stuck through and conquered the depression.

Do you know what I'm really proud of? That fact that I left. The fact that I actually listened to myself for once instead of pleasing those around me. Maybe it took a life or death situation to give me the strength, but I was proud that I stood up for myself.

I still hadn't gotten ahold of Eric which really concerned me. It turns out that Eric had his phone charging across the room from him on vibrate so he was unable to hear or feel the many calls he received that morning.

I called everyone I could think of that might have had contact with him - his roommate, and his mom. I knew Maggie would be awake teaching and I will always be happy that I called her that morning. My family has a tendency to be very emotional. When I called my cousins and other relatives, it almost made things worse because I did not want to cause them hurt and I definitely did not want to draw any more attention to the situation.

But when I called Maggie, she asked her usual 'what's up?' and then proceeded to make me laugh and calm me down. She joked about how having W's on my transcripts was way less detrimental than her D's and F's. She told me I needed to come home and get healthy. Maggie has a way with words, and they worked wonders on me that morning.

More calm, I came and found my roommate awake and told her about everything that had happened that morning. She had been completely out of the loop with the events of the day and so I had to fill her in. Brandee was very shaken up by it all, and I can see why. Had things gone differently she could have woken up to a much grimmer scene. I hadn't realized how hard it must have been to watch me go through it. Everyone else only heard me from across the country but Brandee saw me get worse every day. I will always thank God that he put us in Reardon 204 together.

I lost track of how many people I had to speak with that day. First, my RA suspiciously came in and asked to talk to me. I hadn't talked to her ever and she just wanted to 'catch up'. Yeah right you idiot, I'm not dumb. After dealing with her, I had to speak to the head of the RA's for a good while. All of them trying to keep me at Catholic. Honestly, that just made me want to leave more. I wanted to be done sharing the story....done with supporting my decision, and sure as hell done with DC.

The sun started to shine a little brighter that day. I could finally see a way out. Some people thought I faked it just to go home...I assure you I would never stoop that low. Even in my darkest and most desperate of times, that's not something I would use.

I wanted to leave right away. I wanted to get on the next plane home and sleep in my bed that night with bandit. But I had to settle some business, sign some papers, clean out my dorm, but at that point...I wanted to go home and have my mom or dad bring it all back. I was done with this dark time in my life. And now that I saw a way out, it wasn't coming fast enough.

I was leaving college.

this blog will be the most descriptive and probably the hardest to read. If you do not feel comfortable, please do not feel obligated to read on.

Suicide has never been an option for me. I have always known that whatever the obstacle, I could conquer it. I have seen first hand the effects that suicide can leave on the ones left behind, and I knew I would never cause someone that pain.

But, when your mind is so far gone and you cannot control it, it wanders. It wanders to the darkest of places - to the places you never thought you would face.

I woke up on Thursday, October 18th in a despair I had never felt before. I had once again woken up numb. These last few days I had just been living. I didn't put any effort into anything else. No makeup, no brushing my hair, and no showerring. I simply went to classes, and went back to my dorm. I hardly talked to anyone besides my roommate. I gave up on all the counseling advice because it simply was not working.

I woke up feeling nothing. No pain. No happiness. Nothing.

I had never felt this bad before. I looked at my countdown - still five weeks. Five weeks of this fucking shit. Five weeks of breathing and nothing else. Five weeks of utter darkness. Well, five weeks was too long.

I am never one to give up. But right there in my bed, I have up. Five minutes to get to class - who cares. Who cares about anything anymore to be honest. I tried so hard just to sit up, only to sit there. In the dim corner of the room.

You can only have so much strength.

I got up, and knew immediately that I needed my medication. This is where I lost control of my thoughts. It was like watching a scene in a movie. I pulled out my second drawer, found my antidepressant and just stared at it.

'Give it a few weeks.'

Well, my friend, I had. Why the hell was it not working? Why am I sinking deeper and deeper?

I shook the bottle to get the tablet into the lid, but a few more can with it.

'Take one tablet twice daily.'

One tablet huh? One fucking tablet? I knew what would happen if I took all the pills that had poured out. I knew very well what would happens if I took more than one....two....three....the whole bottle.

I did not care. For the first time, my depression won. For that moment, life was not worth living if it meant living in utter darkness. The battle was no longer worth it. The struggle was winning.

I wanted to take my own life. Sitting on the floor, feeling the rough carpet and the smooth tile beneath me, look at the countdown that was nowhere near where I needed it to be, looking at the mess of what I had become, I wanted to get out. Get out of it all. Not go to another stupid counseling session that gives me glimmer of hope only to leave and feel it disintegrate. Not to get out and go to music theory to learn the minor scales. Not to get out and even feel the sun. I wanted to get out of the whole situation. I had lost my strength. I had lost my fight, my desire to go on. Home was too far away, and if everyday in between was like this...I couldn't make it. Even when I would go home, after a few days I would be right back in this hell. Thanksgiving was too short of a time to really fight for.

'You can't do this anymore.'

I really believed that I couldn't. My depression had permeated into every part of me. I did not believe I could make it.

I had really hit rock bottom.

The hardest part of contemplating suicide for me was not weighing the pros of getting out of the darkness, but talking myself out of it.

What would you do if you thought you were going to die? If you had only a few moments...what would you do?

I opened the top drawer and took out a letter Kelly had written for me. She gave it to me that night before I left and I kept it close to me as much as I could. She talked about how much she loved me and how I had become her best friend. She talked about how she would always be there for me, no matter what.

When I looked up, I saw the picture that accompanied the letter. A picture of Kelly and I waiting for Toy Story Mania at Disneyland. My heart ached. How different things were now.

I wanted to be able to go to Disneyland with her again. I wanted to see Kelly grow into a woman and see how many ways she would change the world around her, but I would have to get through this first.

Right above me, I saw the frame that held my favorite picture of Eric and me. It was taken at senior reflection day. We were both suffering in the picture because we were both facing a countdown that would seperate us across the country from the other. We looked so happy. Being in his arms looked like the greatest thing in the world. A few days ago I was limp in his arms sobbing.

How I wish I could be in his arms now.

Next to it was a picture of him dressed as wolverine for Halloween. I don't know how old he was, but I think it is the cutest picture ever. Look how cute he was. The love of my life in a little xmen outfit. .

Look at little Eric. Look how happy he was. I had always wanted to marry that little wolverine and be his wife forever. We both knew we would be together. I wonder if our kids would look like that little xman. I wonder if our little son would love to watch xmen and the avengers like his dad. I wonder if he would have Eric's contagious smile or his beautiful brown eyes. I wonder what house we would live in, if we would have a little corgi running around. I wonder if that little boy would have Eric's laugh. The loud laugh that makes everyone else giggle and curl their lips into a smile.

I wonder.

I wanted to find out. I had so much to live for. That little 4 x 6 photo brought out a fight in me. Looking at Kelly and Eric brought me back to earth. It helped open the screen I was living behind.

I took out my phone and dialed 'Eric Pfaff'.

No answer. Of all the days that I had called Eric, there was no answer on this scary morning. I think I called him four times laying on that cold floor.

Those pictures saved me.

I put the one pill in my mouth and hurried to class. The last thing I needed at that moment was to be alone. I was too scared to be alone.

I ran to the music building and never looked back. I was in the same clothes I had slept in, but I didn't care.

I needed to tell somebody.

Matt would understand.

'Matt, I really thought about taking all of my pills today.'

'Call me'

A fleeting death wish is what I experienced. I never went back to a class after I stepped out of that music theory class

I went straight to the counselor and told them everything. One, two, three counselors came in asking me all sorts of questions.

'If you stay, we're going to control your medication. You will have to come into this office to receive your two doses a day. Suicidal tendencies are not taken lightly here.'

'If I stay?'

'Well, it is very common for those who experience suicidal episodes to medically withdraw from the school. Your condition more than qualifies you for this.'

I was sick. I wasn't just crazy. Medically withdraw? I didn't even know that was a possibility.

My counselor got on the phone where it was decided my condition was so severe that I would medically withdraw from Catholic.

I was going home.

When I came to, I called my mom sobbing. All I wanted to do was curl up in her arms and sleep. I wanted to be in Arizona. How could they possibly keep me here after what I just went through? It seemed so elementary to me to assume I was going to go home now. This has gone too far. I am much too sick. And what go you do when you're too sick for school? Stay home.

The answer was still, 'no'. And I put down all walls I had up. I didn't have the strength to cover my depression any longer. I let it all out.

I was too worked up to walk to the metro station. This is when I remember hitting one of my biggest lows.

I needed to call my dad. I love my dad. He is such a funny guy and always looks out for his kids. I missed hearing him call me 'Megan one' and talking to me. So, I collapsed onto a bench on the side of the rode and pleaded with my dad. He was going to a cardinals game with Eric's dad but I caught him before he had left. 'What do you want me to do, hun? You can't just drop out, I won't let you.'

When you are in the deepest depths of depression, it doesn't matter what you need to do to get better...you'll do it. I could give a shit about dropping out. Me getting better and surviving was a bit more important to me than the few credits that would transfer from CUA.

There I was, in the middle of a very busy street in Maryland uncontrollably sobbing. It's very hard to explain the feelings of depression. The best I can say is extreme hopelessness and despair. I was desperate to get better, to get out. I was too far gone to care about what others saw when they walked by me. Too far in the darkness to care about what Eric was saying. I had one goal - to get out.

My tactics then turned to Eric. 'Just take me home with you. Please Eric. Just take me now. Ill go home like this and get my stuff later. I don't care. There is nothing there I need, they can just sell everything. Eric please. If you love me, just do this. I have never needed anything more then to be out of here.'

Now that I am sane, I cannot believe I put him in that position. But at the time, desperation clouded over any sort of logic. Somehow we got back to Catholic and into my dorm room. There, I calmed down a bit. But like any part of depression, I knew I would hit a low. I didn't want to say goodbye to him. My last hope was leaving me and I was not handling that well. I even payed money for him to take a taxi instead of the metro so he could stay for longer. I finally calmed down enough to say goodbye. I kissed my last hope, and watched him drive away.

I immediately turned around and walked up the stairs to the basilica. By this point in my depression, I was numb. I couldn't cry. I couldn't laugh. I was just living. Living through a haze. I remember sitting in the back of the basilica just being there. God was keeping me alive and I guess that's all I could ask for. Going home was completely out of the question. I had never felt so much comfort in receiving communion. That little wafer gave me a small bit of hope - at least God won't leave me right now. There was nothing else to do...so I truly put my life into his hands.

I was supposed to go back to Baltimore to be with Matt because my parents were so concerned and worried about me being alone. But the numbness had covered me so much that I didn't need to. I was simply breathing, walking, and living. There were no feelings left - just survival.

The next morning I went to an emergency counseling session where she talked to me about withdrawing. I was too glazed over to truly understand what was going on but it sounded wonderful to me...but I knew it wasn't going to happen.

I became a bit of a red flag. People were watching me and I knew it. I had the deans office calling me, making appointments to talk to me about my safety. I had the dean of music call me in to talk saying that I could come in everyday, she would check on me. She gave me her house and cell number and said if I had another attack, to call and she would be a mom for me. I was being watched. They were scared to let me be alone, and so was I.

My thoughts at this point were very disturbing. What was I supposed to do stuck in this place? There was no hope now. Any glimmer of it shining through was covered.

My depression then lead me to consider the darkest of solutions - to take my own life.

I was dreading Friday. How was I going to be able to see Eric and be okay? I didn't know what to do. Of course I wanted to see him, but I was scared of what it would do to me.

When Friday rolled around, I tried to kill time until I took the train to Baltimore. I did laundry, finished papers, and cleaned my dorm room. Finally, Brandee asked me if I was going to get ready at all. 'Your boyfriend is coming! Be excited!'

So, I did my hair and put make up on for the first time in a long time. I didn't realize how good I could look. I was just used to my hair not being done and my plain skin. It was me. I looked like myself. Well, the person I used to be. The person I was trying to get back to. My long hair was blown out and voluminous. My eyes were a striking green again, and my skin was porcelain and clear again. It was night and day, except I was stuck in the night.

Finally, I left for Baltimore with a fear I hadn't experienced before. I had never been scared to see Eric, my depression was twisting things.

When I arrived at Penn Station, I went to Matt's apartment and waited until Eric's plane arrived. Driving across BWI and seeing Eric was like a dream. I couldn't believe it was happening. I wouldn't have been surprised if I woke up back in my dorm room without him. We chatted and talked at Matt's and then we went to sleep. Once we were alone, I truly revealed everything. I just sobbed in my loves arms until I fell asleep. Waking up like usual, I think it scared Eric to see me like that.

We went to brunch and had the usual sibling arguments, and then it was time to go back to DC. Matt dropped us off, and I had a breakdown.

Please do not take me back there. Please let me stay here and go home with you. Eric, please. I love you, please just take me back. Lets just go. Please, Eric. Please. I'm so sick. I'm so sad. I cannot be happy no matter how hard I try. Please. Please.

I was crying in the middle of the train station. People were looking, definitely. But I didn't care. That's how far gone I was. Yelling at Eric in the middle of the Penn Station because he wouldn't take me back.

'Youre scaring me'.

Eventually he calmed me down enough to get into the train. But as we got closer to Union Station, my heart sank. I could see the Washington monument sticking out above everything else, I could see the basilica from afar.

No. Please God, no.

We went straight to the hotel. No sightseeing, nothing. I was so out of it that we needed to be as far away as possible.

We never left that hotel room. We laugh, cried, held each other...trying to make every second count.

I have never experienced a panic attack in my whole life. I have never seen someone go through one, and I sure as hell didn't know what to do when I had one.

I woke up to use the restroom and when I walked back in, something I had never felt before hit me. This was so perfect. I had missed him so much and here he was. But he's leaving. In just twelve hours he'll be gone and I will be here alone.

I don't remember what happened next. I remember waking Eric up because I knew something was wrong. I remember sitting on the ground rocking while breathing into a bag. I remember Eric on the phone talking to Matt and getting directions on what to do. I remember Eric asking if I needed an ambulance. I remember feeling like I had no control of my body. Finally I remember Eric helping me into the shower and sitting with me until I could breathe normally again.

This was one of the scariest moments of my life. My panic attack lasted for about 40 minutes. I couldn't calm down. I was out of it, and Eric had to try to bring me back.

Across the country from my home, my parents, my sister, my brother, everyone...and I lost control of my mind.

I'd lost control of myself.

Washington DC is a place of many memories. Not only for the many people that visit but also in our nations history. And I definitely made some memories when I visited Megan during October. I had a very long trek ahead of me, from NAU to Phoenix, from Phoenix to Baltimore, and then onward. The drive was long, and the flight was even longer, but I would be seeing my love that day so my happiness was at an all time high.

I arrived at BWI around 11PM, and I was feeling gross and exhausted from all the travel. But when I saw Megan out the window of her brother’s car my heart was filled with joy and happiness because I knew I had made it. We kissed and cried for a bit but then left for her brothers house to spend the night before we left for DC the next day. I remember staying up all night talking and laughing with Megan, but I could tell something was different. She was sad and it was not easy for me to hear her cry about missing home, her family, me, and Arizona.

The next day, Megan, Molly, Matt and I went out for brunch before Megan and I got on a train to DC. The brunch was definitely interesting.  As Megan contemplated about going home and changing her major, there was a different direction that would soon come out. Matt and Megan started to argue about school, home, and many other things while the “non- Molloy’s” sat and tried to calm our partners down. Needless to say that there was much bickering during the brunch and all I remember was that there was a side of Megan I had not seen before. A side of desperation and fear.

After the calm of brunch, came the storm of the travel to DC. Sitting in the train station was one of the hardest things I think I have ever done (besides the hotel to come). As Megan was begging me to not go to DC and to just stay was so confusing to me. For the first time in our relationship I felt there was nothing I could say or do to help her. The train ride was full of me saying that everything will be ok, and lots of crying from both of us. As we arrived in DC, I saw the capital from the train station, and that was about the extent of historical sights that I would see for the rest of the trip. Which I was fine with because I came to see Megan, because lets be honest DC never really changes.

So I checked into the hotel and we didn’t leave until my plane back on Sunday. The hotel was bad. There is no other word to describe the horror of that hotel. Again we stayed up all night and there were ups, downs, laughs, cries and more room service than I had ever had in any other hotel. It was the hardest thing to hold Megan and just cry and know that I would have to leave in about 24 hours. We talked about how depressed she was and how much we just missed each other. It was by far the worst night of my life. The next morning, Megan started to freak out! It was like nothing I had ever seen. It was the first time I had experienced a panic attack. Needless to say it was not a fun morning whatsoever. This was the first time Megan came out and said that she was depressed.

After Megan had clamed down, we checked out of the hotel and took the subway back to CUA. It was just a few hours before I had to take a taxi back to BWI to go home. CUA was beautiful, the Basilica was beautiful, I met Brandee, Megan’s awesome roommate, and the grounds of an East campus school was much different than the hippy NAU. However, Megan was not happy which made me feel, once again, hopeless.

Megan and I were both exhausted. Three days, no sleep and crying almost non-stop was not the best mixture for a happy weekend. The taxi arrived. It was time for me to go. We looked at each other, kissed, and I got in the car. I did not look back and I called my mom and broke down for the hour ride to the airport. I got on the plane at 8PM arrived in AZ at 12AM (time change) and drove back for my 8AM midterm the next day, not my best work. But it was worth it.

DC was filled with memories, most of them bad, but it was still a weekend with my love. And that weekend will never leave my memory. It was our first real test in our relationship and I am proud to say that we both passed.

-Eric Pfaffenberger

the days slowly ticked by until my mom and Kelly finally arrived to visit me. At first, they were meeting up with Matt to get dinner in Baltimore before taking the train to DC. I was livid. Did he not know how badly I needed my mom right now? How selfish of him. I could not believe he was keeping them from me for another two hours or so.

I arrived at union station very early to meet my mom and Kelly. I sat by the chipotle just waiting for the phone call saying that they were there. Finally, she called saying that they were looking for me. I remember seeing Kelly and my mom walking down the spiral marble staircase in the middle of union station and my heart just sank.

Do you ever experience those moments where you think you are okay and then you see someone you love and it triggers a breakdown? That's how I felt right then.

I wanted so badly just to cry right there in my moms arms, but I didn't. My mom was shocked at my weight, and wanted to talk about things. I wasn't going back to my dorm room for the life of me. I was spending every damn second away from that place until I had no choice but to go back. I was secretly hoping I wouldn't go back at all, to be honest.

Nothing felt right about this visit. Nothing at all. There presence with me at DC didn't help things at all. I wasn't supposed to be here, I wasn't meant to be here and it didn't even feel okay with my mom and my best friend. I spent every night with my sister and mom in that hotel room and tried my hardest not to leave it. We watched modern family, dance moms, Long Island medium, everything that we did at home except it didn't feel right.

I couldn't sleep with them there either. The only consolation with sleeping was that when I woke up, I could just roll over and be in my moms arms.

There was one night that made the depression subside for a little bit. We all went to see Pitch Perfect with my roommate, Brandee. Afterward, we went to Fuddruckers and had some burgers. Life seemed okay. It gave me a glimmer of hope. Here I was with my family and my awesome roommate all having a good time.

When it was all over, the darkest of clouds started to roll in. I felt a desperation I had never felt before up to that point in my life. I was begging to go home. Trying to do anything I could to talk my mom into letting me go with her. I couldn't go back. Not after a taste of what I was craving so badly. I would fall deeper and deeper and I knew I would.

There was no eye to this storm. These clouds would never disappear from my life. Ultimately, I wouldn't make it through the storm.

I remember getting dropped off by a taxi on campus that took my mom and Kelly to the airport. I kissed them goodbye and a little piece of me went with them. Life would never be the same.

I walked straight into the Basilica and sat in the crypt church for two Masses. I have never prayed so hard in my life. I have never begged God as much as I did that morning.

I was fighting a losing battle and I was starting to give up. My fight was fading. I was starting to give in to the darkness.

The rest of the week was a blur filled with fear of what was to come on Friday - a visit from Eric.

I remember a feeling of helplessness when I would see Megan calling me on my cell phone. At first she just seemed a little homesick but then it turned into something more. She might call me at 4:30 am feeling like things were falling apart and then again at 8:00 am feeling like things were going to be ok. I also remember being extremely worried about visiting her in D.C. at the beginning of October. It was Kelly’s Fall Break and we were going to have a fun “girls visit”. My emotions were so mixed because I wanted to be there to support her but I was worried our visit would make things worse for Megan.

The visit really opened my eyes that she was going through something more than a little homesickness. She spent as much time as she could with us including sleeping at the hotel. It was then I saw she was having a great deal of trouble sleeping. She would be crying in the middle of the night worried about us leaving her. She spent so much time watching the clock that she couldn’t really enjoy our time together. She started telling me that she wanted to change her major. Then she went on to say she only wanted to stay in D.C. for a year. That changed to a semester. By the time Kelly and I left for Phoenix she was practically beside herself because she couldn’t go home with us. It really broke my heart.

As I mom I was torn between wanting to get her a ticket and bringing her home with me and telling her everything was going to be alright and that things would get better. I tried to remain strong and tell her she could do it if she kept trying and reminding her how much she loved Musical Theatre. She was trying so hard to be strong and stick with her decision but I realize now that what she was facing was overwhelming for anyone…especially an 18-year-old girl so far away from home. What I really wanted was to talk to my mom and get her advice. Since that wasn’t possible I prayed to her for guidance instead.

I began to live through countdowns. How many days until my mom and Kelly visit, how many days until Eric came, how many weeks until Thanksgiving, how many weeks until I can come home for good. I lived for the moment I got to cross off another day on my calender. Another day close to getting out of this hell I was experiencing.

I started planning my every moment to make the countdown go faster. I joined almost every club I could think of - college democrats, relay for life, going dancing with the old folks, and even became a coordinator for the Halloween event on campus. Most of the time it worked...but nothing kept the depression away forever.

One event that covered a pretty substantial amount of my countdown was a Master Class with a visiting choreographer. This four week program would take up a month of my countdown. Four Fridays. That's it. And then there will only be two more Fridays and ill be home.

I was reaching, I know.

At the first class, the guy told us about his broadway experience and how he got started. He told us all about the sacrifices he had made and the extensive hours he spent perfecting his skills. Then he told us about his first casting on broadway. Someone had gotten hurt and had to drop out and he took his place.

'Good thing because I would have missed a year out of my sons life to do the tour I was supposed to do.'

Uhhh, what?? You were going to leave your nine month old son for a year to be in a show?

'If you can see yourself doing anything else in your life, do that instead.'

Okay, done. I want to be a mom. I want to be a wife. I want to be able to have a baby when it's right for my family, not when some director tells me I can. I want to see my kids grow up. I don't want to be seperated from my husband for a year and perform every night. Lets be honest, I didn't love it that much. I didn't have that sole dedication to Musical Theater. Sure I was good at it. I've never really had to practice dance over and over again, or do voice exercises for hours like some people. It all came easily to me. The people around me aren't like that. They cannot see themselves doing anything but performing.

Well, I could. And why would I continue to go to Catholic if I could go to a better program at ASU? Why spend all of that money when in the long run, ASU would be better for me anyway. But I can't go to ASU. I was supposed to go away, supposed to do great things. The people that stayed at ASU failed somehow. They weren't able to branch out. They were settling for shitty ASU.

But all of a sudden, all I wanted to be was a Sun Devil.

Just three more months of Catholic. Three more months of this. What is three months in someone's life, really? Just an insignificant fraction. It will fly by quickly.

But it didn't. The days got longer, the lows worse, the fears greater, and the loneliness started to take over me. I just wanted a hug from my mom, a kiss from Eric, my dad saying everything was going to work out. I didn't want to have these heavy conversations over the phone anymore. Here I am deciding the next few years of my life but I can hardly get three hours of sleep at night.

Then suddenly, my countdown brought a glimmer of hope - one week until Kelly and my mom come to see me.

I didn't need medication. Not me. I'm not crazy. I'm not some insane girl who can't handle her problems without crazy meds.

But then again - I was scared. I was scared of my lows. I was scared of who I was during my episodes. I was scared of my thoughts - wanting to just go home, dropping out, just up and leaving. I was thinking irrationally because I was blinded by the depression. It had consumed my whole being and I didn't know what else to turn to.

So I sought out psychiatric medication. When I went to the health center I realized I had lost a significant amount of weight, which concerned me. What had I been eating? Well, nothing. I wasn't ever hungry. I didn't remember what I had for breakfast or if I had any at all. I had my daily coffee to help get me going but besides that, I didn't eat unless someone told me to. I was literally deteriorating - mentally and physically.

After a long evaluation, the doctor realized that I had waited too long. 'Why hadn't you come in sooner? Are you not aware of how long the medicine takes to work into your system?' 'No I'm sorry, I thought I could do it alone'. 'Well, you are suffering from a severe depression. I'm going to prescribe you Zoloft but please make someone aware of your condition because this won't kick in for about a month. Give it a few weeks'.

Are you shitting me?

'Well, what am I supposed to do until then? Just keep doing what I've been doing?' 'Basically, yes. Keep going to your counselor, keep trying to sleep, just take care of yourself. Exercise when you feel a low coming on, eat again, and remember to take your medication'.

Well thanks for that.

If anyone became solely dedicated to their health, it was me. I would exercise every single day...sometimes twice. I would run for miles just to get my mind off of things. I would lift, stretch, walk, and run for hours. I would practice ballet, tap, and all exercises I learned during class. I stayed outside. My dorm room became to stuffy and confining to me. It was a scary place. Too many tears were shed in there. I would go outside to do homework, but most of all, I went to the Basilica.

Catholic University is home to the biggest church in the United States. The Basilica of the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception became my little safe haven. When you walk in, you are automatically overwhelmed by the size. It is dizzying looking at the ceilings and murals painted everywhere. The walls are lined with shrines and candles devoted to the different appearances of Mary. You would normally find it completely empty if there was no Mass taking place. However, sometimes there were some stragglers...myself included. At the dawning of this darkest time in my depression, I never relied on my faith so much. Before I had left for Catholic, I got a tattoo in memory of my grandma. It says, 'I have kept the faith'. My grandmother was an incredible hero of mine, and she stood true to her faith through everything.

Sitting in the basilica most nights, I did not realize how special the tattoo would become. I could get through it. God doesn't give you anything you cannot handle...When life gets too hard to stand, kneel...all sorts of cliches were running through my head, but I found comfort in them.

I would often find myself just sitting there. Enjoying the emptiness and solitude of the giant shrine. There was something special about being alone in such a big place. Thousands of people come to visit it every year, but I had my own 'spot' in the shrine to Our Lady of Sorrows that no one else will ever have. When I had visited Catholic with my family in the summer, Kelly said it was her favorite shrine. So...at my loneliest of times, I would go in there and pray.

I would beg God for some sort of strength, some sort of way to get me through the next two months. Some sort of strategy for getting up every morning and to face the day ahead. Something to hold on to. I didn't care if my sobs echoed throughout the shrine. It was acceptable place to be emotional.

If anyone could help me at this point, it would have to be God. I would lean on him for the next few weeks.

The Basilica would become the hardest part of leaving for me. If I ever felt safe in my depression, it was within its giant walls.

Sleep. Something I had never taken for granted until my depression hit. On average, I would wake up about five times a night - abruptly awoken by tears. It was at this time in my depression that my health started to deteriorate. I could not sleep for the life of me. I dreaded the night. I would do anything I could to fall asleep. I even went to the pharmacy and got Melatonin gummies - a natural sleep aid. I would fall asleep quite easily, but staying asleep was the really monster. 

I have no idea what my dreams were or what my brain was thinking up in my sleep, but whatever it was was not pretty. Every time I would awaken, a flood of emotions would come over me. 2:23......3:47.......4:51......5:22......6:36.....7:24 - might as well just stay up now. At first, I was able to handle it. I would check the time and see if it was reasonable to talk to someone back at home. (Keep in mind Arizona time was three hours earlier). If so, I would text Eric or my mom and they would calm me down until I drifted off to sleep again. Then, it all started to worsen. My wake ups were more intense. I could not keep the lows away, and there is nothing lonelier than waking up at 4 in the morning without anyone to talk to. Nothing worse than not being able to calm yourself down enough to fall back asleep. Nothing worse that having to cry into a pillow so that your roommate doesn't wake up. 

Finally, I could not handle the nights alone. After the first few times I would wake up in the night, I needed to hear a friendly voice. It's terrifying being alone in the dark trying to run away from your own thoughts. I would call people. I would call Eric and cry even though it would wake him up, I would call my mom who would soothe me multiple times in the night. I would text my brother to see if he was still up. I was DESPERATE. Sleep is supposed to be a time of rejuvenation, not a time for total despair. 

Once the sun would rise, I would give up. I would do homework or study for something coming up later that day. Needless to say, my grades were never better than they were during this time. I filled my mornings with music scales, theology, and Plato's Republic. 

It was at this point where I realized that I needed help. I always thought this was something I could have gotten through alone, that it would eventually wear away, that time heals everything. Well, it does not. Not when you are sick. Not when your brain is not balanced. Time is not on your side if you are not fighting. Time is actually your worse enemy. 

One morning I remember crying so hard on the phone in the bathroom with my mom that once my suitemates had woken up one of them asked if we were okay. It hit me that I wasn't. I was not okay. Something was going on, and it was nothing to be ashamed of. 'I'm going through a hard time' became my go to explanation for everything. Finally I called the counseling center and made my first appointment. I began to fight back.