photo: lobraumeister/ BY-NC-SA

Here’s a snapshot of my Saturday nights as a freshman at UC San Diego. My suitemates are all glammed up to go clubbing. My friends next door get cozy around the couches to watch a marathon of “The Office.” And where am I? I’m in my room with the door closed, doing…absolutely nothing. Ain’t college life grand?

That was the story of my life last year. My friends would ask me to come out with them, and I’d make up bogus excuses to stay in. Pretty soon, I got fewer and fewer of those invitations.

Partway through last year, I realized what I was feeling might be more serious than I thought. Sure I was a tad homesick, and a little stressed with classes, but nothing that would make me go through two boxes of tissues in a week. I definitely didn’t want to talk to my friends about it. I was afraid they would think I was craving attention. I had absolutely no control over how I felt, so I did what any tech-savvy teenager would do -- I googled my condition.

I waited for all my suitemates to leave before taking an online depression survey. All wrapped up in my comforter, I started on the first question. "Do you feel sad or irritable?" Oh yes. From there I answered questions about my sleeping and eating habits. These had changed quite a bit, but I chalked it up to the norms of college life. I answered "yes" to 7 of the 10 questions. The results? Clinical depression. Eh...what?

I refused to believe I was clinically depressed. I always prided myself on being strong and capable of facing changes easily, so this diagnosis was beyond shocking. I figured I ought to talk to UCSD's counselors, but I talked myself out of an appointment. I thought I had no legitimate reason to have these feelings. Talking to my friends was out of the question, and I didn't want to worry my mom.

After some research, I resolved to self-medicate by getting a job and joining student organizations. The rest of the year was still difficult, but I felt like I was making strides toward a healthier outlook on college life. Eventually I met a friend who opened up to me about her own depressed feelings. I finally realized I wasn’t alone in this -- and can face my sophomore year with confidence. I’ll watch out for more serious signs of depression, but know where to get started for help – by opening up, not bottling up.

[Note: A version of this commentary aired on KQED's Perspective series on October 8, 2009.]

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