Lane H.
Photography by Emily Daly
If you’re reading this, admitting your struggles may seem impossible, but admitting them truly makes everything possible.
Growing up, I didn’t understand depression, anxiety, or many other mental illnesses. I thought people were just sad, and everyone is sad at one point or another so “what’s the big deal?” I asked myself. About halfway through high school I truly understood the difference between sadness and mental illness when it hit me like a freight train. While I knew I was struggling, I managed to fake my way through high school by essentially lying to myself and telling myself I was fine. I would get over it if I just pushed through and didn’t complain about it, I told myself. I bottled up how I was feeling even though a war was waging inside me.
When I got to college, it became much more difficult to deny and hide my illness. Clemson is the greatest place in the world I could have ended up, but initially it felt like the worst. A month into school, I was a click away from transferring back home to The University of South Carolina. I wanted to go home because I felt it would be easier to hide my depression among familiar faces. I was alone, trapped, hopeless. I had fantastic people around me with endless opportunities present, but I felt as if I was in a dark tunnel without an end in sight. This feeling persisted much of my freshman year, even though I finally admitted to myself I suffered from depression, I refused to admit it to anyone else. I felt embarrassed and weak, on the outside I was a normal, fun college student but on the inside, I was torn and broken.
I will never forget fall of my sophomore year when I called my parents and admitted my problem. Obviously, parents seem to know everything, so they were not necessarily shocked by my call. Still, telling someone else for the first time felt like the weight of the world being pulled off my back. Simply admitting I wasn’t okay and beginning to get help was a pivotal moment in my journey. My depression did not come to a screeching halt, but it was the start of a new journey, a journey of healing and acceptance.
Since that day, so much has happened. I have struggled through tragedies, and I have rejoiced in wonderful moments. Tragedies have driven me down, but beauty comes from broken places, and I see the world in a different light as a result. I have a truly incredible group of friends and family that have my back no matter what and I can never express how thankful I am for them. I still struggle, as many people do but I am no longer afraid to admit that. Mental illness is real, and it should not be hidden. I am learning how to help myself and others, and telling my story is one step in that process. In every darkness there is a light, no matter how dim it may seem. No day is perfect, and some are worse than others, but at the end each day I know that I am no longer running, I am facing my giants head on.
So, face your giants, admit your struggles. Whether that means admitting to yourself, talking to a friend, to family, to a counselor, or anyone, that first step is so crucial. I am here for you, and so are countless others. Reach out, my number is (803) 920-7355, and I’d love nothing more than to talk.
For Thomas Heard Few, miss you brother and cannot wait to see you again.
Lane H., Clemson University
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