Personal Narrative: Clinical Depression

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It’s 7am on a crisp, Sunday morning. The sun is rising, peaking through the blinds dimly lighting my bedroom. I’m exhausted. I could literally lie here, in bed all day, only getting up to use the restroom. As I comfortably lie here with my blankets pull up over my head, my thoughts race. I keep telling myself, “you need to get up, you have things to do today.” An hour has passed since I woke. I finally muster what little energy I have to stumble downstairs, brew a cup of coffee and sit lifelessly on the couch watching the morning’s news waiting for the caffeine surge to kick in.
Depression struck me at the age of 25. I would literally come home from work and go straight to bed. I would sleep all night only to wake still feeling tired. The mere thought of getting ready for work was daunting. How was I supposed to survive 8 hours at an office job if I couldn’t even pull myself out of bed? I knew something wasn’t right but depression never came to mind.
I saw my physician who diagnosed me with depression. I was surprisingly accepting of the diagnosis mainly because I wanted to feel normal, I wanted to feel like me again (a productive member of society who rises early, and feels accomplished at the end of the day). I was handed a
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risk. Since I could not relay on medication to help lift my darkened mood. I took matters into my own hands. I became educated and proactive with my health. I started eating the best I could, exercising more, seeing a therapist, sticking to a routine, reducing my stress and allowing the free effects of sunshine and nature to work their wonders. It was a slow and painful process, but in time I started to feel better. I have had my ups and downs and have struggled along the way but make a conscious effort everyday to help keep myself on level