As cheesy as it sounds, living the half-full life has saved my life on a few occasions.
Let’s start with some facts. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, Major Depressive Disorder (or MDD) is one of the most common mental disorders in the United States. Statistically, the “percent of persons aged 12 years and over with depression in any 2-week period [is] 7.6%” (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention). From what I have learned as a student studying psychology, the majority of people will experience a depressive episode at least once in their life.
Opinions? Depression SUCKS. Mental illness SUCKS. Who wants to feel perpetually sad? Unless you are a masochist I am going to assume that feeling a perpetual darkness around you is not your cup of tea. Lately I have been comparing it to a moment in a superhero movie when the villain is on top and the hero just got beaten up and feels defeated and lost. Except the depression doesn’t last just for a few minutes until someone comes up with a master plan, or their buddy gives an amazing motivational speech. It is just there. And sometimes you don’t even know why.
So what do we do? The field of psychology is a growing one. There are a wide variety of different treatments for depressive and anxiety disorders, from a plethora of therapies to medications there are ways to alleviate the pain and darkness. But it doesn’t always disappear completely.
Some people decide they can’t deal with it anymore. They decide to end their lives. My heart goes out to those people. I have been there. I have sat on my bathroom floor crying for hours wanting the hopelessness to go away, and feeling like it will never end. Those are not my favorite life memories.
However I found my own way to keep going. Many people do. I want to share that there is hope.
About Me
My name is Madeline Critchfield, or Maddie as most everyone knows me. I am a college student studying psychology at BYU. My dream job is to be a therapist, helping people who struggle with mental illness improve their quality of life. I love music, movies, nature, and have a HUGE passion for mental health and things psychology related.
…And I have been diagnosed with a depressive disorder that also tends to create anxiety.
I was first diagnosed by a professional about a year ago after a self harm attempt. That was a low point, but not the first time I had experienced depression. After learning the symptoms of depression, and looking back on my life, there are a few periods I realize I was feeling depressed.
The first time was after I graduated high school, and had just started college. It was a weird transition period in my life where I was basically just waiting until I turned 19 so I could serve a mission for my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day saints. I remember having a hard time feeling happy. If I felt anything other than empty, it was sad. The symptoms were not as intense as they would be in the future, but it was then that I started to realize something in my brain was “a little messed up” (quoting this video: watch).
Then I got my mission call: Copenhagen Denmark. I was elated! When I began, I had a lot of hard emotions, but I chalked it all up to just getting used to the new lifestyle, culture, and learning a new language. Part of it was adjusting, but I can remember during the first cold, dark couple months of 2018, I was again depressed. Finding enjoyment in the little things was hard. It was similar to what I had felt after graduating, but a bit more intense.
As missionaries, we are always assigned a “companion” who is always supposed to be in sight and sound of us. Most of my comps noticed something was up. One had a hunch it was more than just normal missionary adjusting/ the sadness of rejection missionaries face when people say they don’t want to learn about the message we shared. I did not want to talk to anyone about it though. I wanted to be stronger than that (lol, what a prideful little snot). But I eventually started to believe this companion when I spent an entire afternoon crying. She was a champ and took me to get ice cream.
Behold my sunburnt face and puffy crying eyes.
Eventually I had a big breakdown. I was training a new missionary at the time in Copenhagen. It was a stressful week, we were having a difficult time juggling everything, and I wanted more than anything to have the situation under control. I distinctly remember the day. A friend being taught by some other missionaries in the area was finally getting baptized. My companion and I wanted to go, and had promised the girl we would be there. We were only allowed to go if we had someone we were teaching with us. And we had someone, he was a good friend of ours, but had a hard time wanting to come to church or church sponsored activities. But then the day of, just as we had gotten home from running errands and talking to people on the street, we got a text from our friend saying he had to cancel, and would not be joining us at the baptism.
I have always been stressed and wanting to please everyone, but for some reason that text hit harder than usual. I just started crying and my poor trainee had no idea what to do. So she did what I should have done a long time ago: she called for help. We called another set of sister missionaries who were close to us, who recommended we call our mission president. I didn’t want to, but I did. And so began my path of healing.
Something my inspired mission president told me was that what I was feeling should be taken just as seriously as a broken arm. So he helped me go to a therapist. I started dealing with emotions I felt ashamed to feel. Learning to deal with the constant darkness was exhausting, but between my companions, mission president, and president’s wife, I succeeded through the rest of my mission. I learned so much from my depression and I would not have had it any other way.
But I was still hurting. I came home from my mission anxious as heck. My parents helped me go to a doctor so I could get medication.
Maybe that would help?
Lol, not for me.
I went to school…with the wrong medication. I remember when I opened the medication and one of the side effects was suicidal thoughts.
Wait…
Hold up,
What?
Shouldn’t that be ummm, helping me with that?
But my doctor assured me that I would just have to try and we could adjust the dosage as needed.
We tried. I got dark. I had never had suicidal thoughts before. Until September 2019. I was walking home from class one day, and I wanted to end it. There was something inside me though that kept telling me “don’t do it”. So I tried cutting instead. I didn’t draw blood, as I started, I began to realize that this scared me. So I stopped. I waited until my roommate got home and found me on the floor.
I will never forget the way she responded to the situation…with so much love. She simply hugged me, and called some friends so I could feel supported. She went with me to the crisis counseling center our school offers. They set me up with a therapist. And I have been meeting with this therapist ever since.
I wish I could say that was the last time life got really dark. It by far was not. But through it all I have learned that though it feels like there really is no light at the end of the tunnel, there always is. Sometimes all it takes to feel the tiniest bit better is a good nap. Or a good conversation. Or an entire bucket of ice cream.
A year after that experience, I am in a much better place. When the dark thoughts come, I know how to take care of them. That is one benefit of seeing a therapist for a year- he knows me well. I can tell him I am freaking out and he just has to be like, “Maddie, when is the last time you had a good connection with someone else?” And then it all clicks and I am like wait duh you are right that makes me happy. Then I call a friend and feel quite a bit better. Or when my friends are not available, I will watch Avatar the Last Airbender and eat ice cream.
Through it all I have learned so much about myself. I have gained respect for myself (that exists?). And to be honest, I have learned to enjoy this person I am stuck with the rest of my life (that’s me). I am pretty entertaining (I make myself laugh quite frequently). I find beauty in little dumb stuff. I make friends pretty easy. My style makes me happy. And I am stronger than I ever realized.
Yes, I still struggle and the dark thoughts do not always go away. But they are more like an annoying traveling companion you just can’t seem to shake. I take care of it, and we coexist.
And that brings me to why I am writing all this in the first place. To help people who struggle like I do to help see the light in the darkness, by sharing ways I have done so. There is light, I promise (also what I tell myself looking in the mirror with a tear-stained face and puffy red eyes). Sometimes you have to make that light. I hope in ways that this blog will not only give light to other people, but to myself as well.
Let’s try living the half-full life together.
Reference:
Living the Half Full Life 
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