Always always remembering that this too shall pass
“This too shall pass” may be a cliché, but it’s one that has carried me through some of the darkest times of my life.
For all the support that is available, there will inevitably be times when you reach for help, but it’s the wrong friend; when you reach for family, but they’re not around; when you reach for counselling, but it’s unavailable.
In those times, when everything seems out of reach and you are at your wits’ end, remember that this will pass, that you are not alone, that there are many who have felt the way you feel. If you can just hold on to one bright thought and pull through, all the support that is so often promised will be there for you; it’s just running a little late.
My story begins when I was 11 years old. My family moved to a new house in the middle of the year and I was suddenly without my friends, my teachers, my good grades, and the only home I had known. Everything had changed and I was unprepared.
Although I was quick to settle in on the outside—I made friends, won my teachers over, and returned my grades to As—my insides were never quite the same again.I would cry every day after school, alone in my room; I’d rush upstairs so I could collapse against my door and sob as quietly as possible until I stopped. Then I would do my homework until I cried myself to sleep. I repeated this behaviour through middle school and high school (and all the way through my MA to be honest).
When I was in high school, I asked my doctor for help; he recommended that I don’t watch the news, that I watch comedy instead, and see if that helps. It helped a little and definitely had an impact on me (I ended up writing my doctoral dissertation on stand-up comedy and now perform it).
My depression did not dissipate though; I just got used to feeling the way I did and I convinced myself that was better than going on medication because the side effects might be worse.
I believed that if I could just get away then things would be okay. I moved to England for my MA and what should have been an exciting adventure of a lifetime, triggered all the negative feelings I had when I moved as a child. Except this time, everything was much worse as I was across the ocean from my family, lived in a land of seemingly perpetual grey skies and cold rain, and had my heart broken so completely that I think it cracked my soul.This was the darkest time of my life and I needed help. I went to a clinic where I spoke to a cold English woman about how I spent my days convincing myself that I shouldn’t hurt myself because these feelings would surely pass.
She explained that I should try exercising because exercising releases endorphins, which are known to make you feel better. I said I knew that. She asked me what I was doing in England. I explained that I was studying for my MA there. She said that I was an intelligent young woman and asked me if I was really at risk of committing suicide. I said that although I kept thinking about it that I wouldn’t do it. She asked me why. I said because it would hurt too many people.
I must have heard that somewhere and thought that was what you were supposed to say—I don’t know if I meant it or why she was so convinced by my “young woman intelligence” that all she did was put me on a waiting list for therapy.
I never got to see a therapist in England because I flew back to Canada before I made it to the top of that list. I sometimes wonder if I was ever on a list at all and what they assumed when they called my phone number in England to find it was no longer in use.
For the first few years of my PhD here at Guelph, I was floating and happier than I had ever been as I loved being near my support system. This city also felt like home to me, almost everyone I met was kind to me, I felt safe here again, and, for the first time in a long time, I felt content.
The stress of school ending was difficult to deal with as it meant a change and I was concerned of the impact it would have on me; especially since I didn’t know what the future held or where I would have to move for work.
I began counselling at U of G. After seeing a couple of counsellors, I found one I felt comfortable with and she helped me a lot in the time I got to see her.
Unfortunately, Counselling Services can’t see you once you graduate. I didn’t know where to go for help after that.But even if they had helped me connect with a new therapist, I was put off by the process of having to go through person after person, explaining all the things that make me sad over and over, while searching for the right counsellor.
Recently, I find myself struggling again, and it is incredibly frustrating knowing that there are people that can help me sitting in the same building that I work in every day. I even emailed them a couple of months ago for information on where students can go for help after graduating; the person I emailed forwarded my email to someone else who never responded to me. So instead, I’ve been using the University’s mental health resources available online; specifically MoodGYM, which has been somewhat useful so far.
My mental health story doesn’t have a neat resolution because just as many physical illnesses require lifelong attention, so does our mental well-being. Our minds must be exercised to overcome negativity, trained in the art of positivity, and made strong enough to carry us through the next season.
To do that, I will try my best to lean on my support systems; create positive coping mechanisms; and—every so often—hold my middle finger up to the universe and speak defiantly into the darkness: this too shall pass.
Photo by Mariah Bridgeman/The Ontarion.