Every story has a beginning, even horrible ones.
My depression started when I left for university. I was unsure whether I wanted to go anyway and even took a year out to work and decide if university was the right choice for me. I loved my year out, I worked in a really fun bar, made some friends, lived at home with mum and dad and saw my boyfriend every week. But I still decided to go as I knew I would not have the same chance again and did not want to regret anything. Ironic, looking back.
Sign number 1: I began to hate.
The first few months were terrible. I was extremely homesick and I hated everything about the place, which is unusual for me.
Whenever I walked past anyone I would grumble in my head about how much I hated them, even perfect strangers! I did make some good friends and my flatmates are lovely but I began to change and be known as the one that hates everyone and everything. People joke about it like it is normal because they do not know that I am nothing like that usually. Only months before I was smiley, bubbly and extremely confident.
Sign number two: Not letting go.
I was going to give it until Christmas. By then I was stuck into work and enjoying everything a lot more, perhaps too wrapped up in the extensive workload to notice my deteriorating mental health. I had adopted my new ‘cool’ hate-everything persona and decided that university was the right choice and I would stay.
I started to fall out with friends on nights out and any problem bothered me a whole lot more.
Sign number three: Avoiding social situations.
These problems manifested and I began to close in on myself. I stopped going out socially and avoided all situations that involved friends. I am still doing this now and hopefully will be able to get over this in the future.
Sign number four: Illness.
I then became very ill, no one knows what exactly I had but my doctor has told me that this was probably the point in which everything came spurting out. That depression had been bubbling under the surface until this point and this was the moment that I began to get really, really, desperately bad.