Words by Anonymous 17

I’ve been depressed for most of my life. I think I started getting symptoms around the age of eight. I grew up in an environment without talking about or acknowledging what mental health was. That’s how it was in farming communities. You just didn’t talk about mental health until someone committed suicide. But the talking about it only stays till the funeral is over, then back to how it is typically. I didn’t come to the realization that I had a mental health issue till I was at the age of fourteen, nearly fifteen. I was living away from home at boarding school then, but by then, I had tried to take my life twice. I later, at age seventeen, finally got help when my first relationship was getting too much for me to handle alone. I feared finally getting help instead of ignoring it as everyone at home did. It was drilled into me as a kid, ‘be a man’ and such. How could I have known any different? No one really talked about it with me or anyone else, and the lasting effects are that I’m still scared to talk to people and try to make new friends.

When I first got to Bond, I was actually really happy for once. I had found a girl that I was falling in love with, I had friends, and I felt I was enjoying my course here and was excited about my future. I felt happy, even though I was still taking medicine to stabilize my mental health. I felt like I was slowly getting out of the hole that I was put in at a young age. That was until the father of the girl I was seeing found out I had depression. From there, he stalked and harassed her and me, spreading rumours that I was abusive towards her; I broke up with her over it but stayed friends.

I was discriminated against, over the fact that I was mentally ill. That wasn’t something I was expecting to deal with in my life, even in high school. While I was at boarding school, my headmaster at the time essentially called me a school shooter because I took anti-depressants. Even though I was an elected school leader at my school, he could not look past that, and neither could the father of the girl I was falling in love with. It’s bad enough having to deal with my thoughts telling me that I’m worthless, no one likes me, and to end it all on any given day. Still, factors outside of the patient affecting them because of an illness we had no control over don’t help.

If anything I’ve said scares you away from getting help, trust me, support is so lovely. Even if it’s just talking it over with friends, it can help. Bond’s team of counsellors are good. They even figured out that I’m probably ADD and helped me with the process of getting diagnosed. I’m twenty now. My life could have been happier or more stable if people talked about it more, but all I can do now is try to be a mental health advocate. I know my story isn’t bad, but it doesn’t matter comparing your issues with someone else’s, as it’s yours, not theirs. I hope this helps someone who fears going to get help. I know the initial struggle of the stigma, but it’s just baby boomers being boomers.