A World Without Color: Depression, Trauma, and Hope

Photo Credit: Katie and AnnaBelle Armitage

A T  •  F I R S T

9 months ago, walking over this bridge to get to school every day was a terrifying experience, triggering terrible thoughts that I didn’t control. I carried a heavy burden of guilt, shame, and isolation, and I’m pretty sure my actual vision was affected because the world around me was sapped of color. 

I was slipping further and further into a spiral of destructive patterns, barely eating, getting 3-5 hours of sleep a night, and feeling like I had no place in my community, my school, or my city. I could not see an end to the pain that I was experiencing, and despite my best efforts, I could not find a way to process what I was going through without completely falling apart. 

B U T  •  T H E N

I woke up one day realizing I was fixated on the idea of not being alive any more. This realization forced me to realize that I was in a bad place and needed help. I finally saw that I had to commit to working through the depression, anxiety, and trauma that weighed me down like an anchor strapped around my chest, or else I would forever be trapped in the prison of my own mind, living out a miserable existence that terrified me. This marked the beginning of a journey that would forever change my life: a journey filled with all sorts of ups and downs, successes and failures, victories and setbacks, humility and acceptance.

A N D  •  T H E N

My life didn’t magically become perfect. I didn’t snap out of it and “get better” after a session or two. But I reached out to my most trusted people in a cry for help... and they heard me. They embraced me as I was and held me up when I didn’t have the strength to stand. I swallowed my pride and humbled myself in therapy sessions. I did my best to take down the walls I had built up with people and be honest with my community about the condition I was in.

I stopped identifying myself with my illness (“I am depressed”) and started using person-first language on my own self (“I am a person who has depression”). And slowly - so painfully slowly, but surely - the spark of life started to flicker back once in a while. Then more frequently.  

And then, a week ago, I unintentionally referred to my suicidal ideation in the past tense for the first time. 

S O  •  N O W

A year ago, I didn’t think I would be able to pull myself together enough to stay in school. Getting up each day took all the willpower I had. But, by the grace of God and the incredible support of the people around me, I made it. I am able to say “I’m okay” for the first time in what feels like an eternity, and one week from today I will be walking across a stage to celebrate earning my Bachelor’s degree. 

My issues have not vanished. I still have depression, anxiety, and grief to work through. But I can see the sun for the first time in what feels like a century... and the world, which seemed so one-dimensional and flat in tone, I have begun to be able to see in glimpses of full and beautiful color.

M O V I N G  •  F O R W A R D

I share my story for anyone who is now where I was then. There is yet hope, even if it feels like there is none. I could not imagine ever feeling happy or excited about life again, but God had more plans for me than I could see in my limited field of vision. 

There is yet color to be seen in the world, even if all you can see now is black and white. Allow the people who love you to support you. Go to therapy - doing so does not mean you have failed ❤️ You are valid, you belong, you have a place, you are loved. You are not defined by your mental illness or lack thereof. You are more than what you have or have not done. 

If you ever need an understanding, nonjudgemental ear or shoulder to cry on, know that you can come to me.

Much love,

Liz

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