by Bobby Watson

Created on: February 06, 2009   Last Updated: February 19, 2009

Every since I was a young child, I have had a problem with depression, anger, and anxiety. It grew a great deal worse when my parents got divorced when I was about 16 years old. I would be sad or in a foul mood at least half the time for no reason at all. My grandmother committed suicide when I was 17 years old, and by this time my mother had already developed a heavy drug problem. Life didn't seem to be working out as I had imagined it as a small child. I never had the courage to get help for my emotional problems until I dropped out of high school, had no place to go, and a feeling of overwhelming hopelessness that I just couldn't shake.

With the help of my Uncle I went back to graduate high school, got a part time job, and was finally starting to feel a little better about myself. The Dr. had prescribed me a low dose of Prozac to keep my mood more stable. I made it a point to go out and do fun activities like bowling, hiking, and keep my life as full as possible. Even though I had some psychological problems, I was still in a way able to medicate myself. I felt good about myself for once, and this is what I remember as being the best time in my life. That was about twelve years ago, and it's been a long road to get to where I am now.

I spent the better part of the next 8 years self medicating myself with any kind of drug I could get my hands on. I worked for a while at a couple different places and just made it by in a small apartment I had. My depression and anxiety grew so bad that I was having idealizations about killing myself all the time. When I finally started to sort of plan my own death I knew I had to get help. I checked myself into a psychiatric facility and got the help that I so desperately needed. I now was finally comfortable with the fact that I might need medication for a long time.

Within a couple years, I was taking 6 different anti depressants every day to avoid the misery I felt when I was off of them. I lost the drug problem, because I had all the legal drugs I needed. I was determined to be (SMI), or severely mentally ill a little less than a year ago. But instead of handling it the way I usually do, I made a decision to do something different for a change. At the age of 30, I began going to community college full time. I have been doing pretty well ever since. I enjoy learning, and I do pretty well with my grades. I picked my major this semester, and surprise, it's Psychology. I look forward to getting a more in depth look at my mental issues. I feel great nearly all the time because I take my medications as prescribed, and I always work some excercise into my schedule.

I may have a mental disability, but I still have strong dreams and ambitions about the things in life I want to accomplish. I won't let my disease get me off track again. My own personal action is the whole reason I have gotten to this point. The more involved I get in school and life, the better I feel. It gets easier all the time, and I just had to take the necessary action to save my own life. I wish that same thing for everyone.

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