Feeling Lost

Sat Nam,

I decided to answer this question because I really feel for what you are saying. And because of that, I will tell you the story of myself. Your story is a mirror image of my own. I had the same exact "episode" when I was in 9th grade, where my grades were falling and I entered into a deep depression. I didn't know who I was before and every day that I had to go through this confusion, I felt alone, hurt and worst of all, ashamed and guilty that I had done something terrible. I didn't know what it was. It got so bad that I stopped eating and became severely dehydrated.

Every day I'd wake up crying or sick, throw on a black sweatshirt and drag myself to school like a zombie. My best friends couldn't take my crying anymore and began to withdraw from me; that added a crushing blow because then I started to feel like a miserable failure. I couldn't concentrate at school anymore because I felt like I was going insane. My body was contracting, I'd wake up having panic attacks, I'd have horrid dreams about killing my entire family and myself. Drugs even seemed like a way out. I wanted anything which would make it go away. Thank God I didn't succumb to it! The sad truth is I would have, because I felt that every day I felt like this, I was hurting myself and everyone who loved me. It was a living hell.

No one can tell you how to get out of this, but I do want to tell you what happened with me. I was exactly like you. No drugs, no alcohol, very well dressed, was an EXTREMELY creative person, a hopeless optimist, a leader and all around good friend, and then one day it just died. I missed who I was but was afraid to return to her because I couldn't get the thought out of my mind that I had some extreme flaw in my character that led me to this "punishment". This occurred for a few more months (a year total), and I remember going through everything, doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists. No one could figure it out; their conclusion was severe anxiety. But I remember my turning point very clearly. I went to my weekly appointment with my psychiatrist, and she prescribed my some anxiety medicine called Xanax. You've probably heard of it. It wasn't much--10mg, a baby dose--and I went home with a sick feeling about it. I looked at the little white tablet in my palm and decided I'd humor my mom and take it. (On a side note, I really do not like taking medicine--I'm a true believer in Ayurvedic/natural medicines, but this was important for my mother, so I took it). I remember waiting for it to kick in, and feeling disgusting.

The truth was, beneath all ... (more)