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Depression is a liar. A dirty liar.

I have completed year two in my PhD program (TURN UHHH!!) and during that time I did not pause to complete another post. Needless to say, this academic year has been a struggle. And I don't mean, "oh look at these readings" type of struggle. Although there was plenty of that. I mean like, "I don't know if I'm going to make it out of bed today" struggles.

I recently realized that I winter time is a difficult time for me. Being in Michigan can really test your ability to survive endless days without sunlight. I kid you not, I'm pretty sure the sun didn't come out for the entire month of January. How is that even real?

Thanks to Facebook memories I noticed that my winter month statues are sad and this winter hit me like a ton of bricks. I do not mean that metaphorically, I genuinely felt that I was carrying additional weight around with me. Thanks to a survey I took for the school about mental health, I talked to my therapist about depression, anxiety, and body image issues.

I still have a difficult time saying that I am depressed. The things I have going for me, I should not be depressed. Nor do I have the time to be. School does not care that I made it out of bed. That I decided to clean my apartment even though I haven't been motivated to do so in a month. That I went to the grocery store when for the past week or so all I ate was fast food because I didn't have food in my house. Academia does not count those as victories. What matters is that I made the edits to the manuscript I'm working on, that I finish my readings and hand in my papers.

Dealing with depression during this time has complicated things for me. It has caused me to feel inadequate and unworthy to be in this program, as well as in other facets in my life. While I have dealt with impostor syndrome since I got accepted into this program this is really the first time that I feel utterly out of place. People who earn doctorates have it all together. They don't feel like crying when the sun is out, or wait until the day before to type a paper because for the three weeks prior they had to work on it they laid on the couch and took naps, or that their anxiety is constantly telling them that don't belong and their mentor doesn't actually want to work with them. A part of me knows that my depression/anxiety are lying to me. Making believe and feel things that aren't true but I am unable to shake those feelings.

The ironic part, I STAN for Black mental health. I suggest to friends and family alike that they should seek help and willing to seek out professional help.  I have been a crutch for many of my friends in times of need. Never stopping to take care of myself.Now, how do I tell my friends that I'm not as strong as they think I am? Or that I cry myself to sleep to night? That sometimes sitting with them I feel like I don't belong?

This summer, is about conquering new feats:

1. Facing depression head on.

2. Passing qualifying exams
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