Once school was over, my mood was still low. Part of me hoped I might be able to get back with Henry, but that wasn’t going to happen. I was going to be going on a trip to Europe with my family before starting my job at CAMH. We were going to visit Amsterdam, Zurich (Switzerland), and Cinque Terre (Italy). Though I was sometimes able to enjoy myself on this trip, depression tagged along. I still felt down and disgusted by my body. I wasn’t able to enjoy it as much as I’d hoped. I still thought it was cool that I got to experience different cultures and a different scenery.
When we returned, my doctor increased my medication. I didn’t want to be reliant on medication, but wasn’t sure what else I should do. I started working at CAMH, where I had to commute 1.5 hours to downtown Toronto to get there and 1.5 hours to get home. I was supposed to move in with my aunt, but didn’t feel psychologically sound to.
Since I knew I was going to be in Toronto, I reached out to the psychologist I had seen in first year. I wanted to work with her again to continue coping with my negative body image and mood. I also obsessively used Tinder, where I matched and hung out with a guy I eventually told I wanted to stop seeing. This was met with him admitting he had severe mental health issues and was quite stressful for me.
I had hoped that I’d magically be happier if I worked at CAMH, but this wasn’t the case. The place where I was working did not match my skillset at all. It was a computational neuroscience lab, and there was little for me to do since I didn’t know anything about coding. I sat there bored a lot of the time, feeling useless and guilty about wasting hospital money. I wanted to quit, but was encouraged to stick it out. I cried a lot in the bathroom and dreamed about working at Starbucks. I was jealous of anyone on the street who was thinner than me, and worked on coping with this with my psychologist. I was terrified of fourth year as third year had been so hard, and I felt lost and directionless. I still wanted to be a clinical psychologist or a doctor, but didn’t believe in my ability to do it and questioned if it was right for me.
I’d decided to move into a different student house. I moved in with three girls I knew from first year along with their two friends. I cried when my mom and I drove past the university a few weeks before fourth year because I was horribly scared.
A few weeks before I had to move back to Hamilton to be a rep for Welcome Week, I hit a wall (emotionally). I was tired of hating my body and believing I was fat, of exercising and trying to eat healthier and feeling like it wasn’t doing anything. I was terrified of fourth year. I just couldn’t take it anymore and didn’t want to exist. I drove myself to the emergency department at my local hospital. I explained my situation, and sat and waited for hours. It was getting late, and I was feeling extremely fed up. I ended up deciding to leave, and went to the psychiatric emergency department at CAMH the following day.
Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long at CAMH (they aren’t very busy in the mornings). They took away all my belongings to lock up, and I chatted with a triage nurse. I explained my situation, and went to sit in the waiting area. I didn’t wait long before I was taken into another room and had the chance to speak with a social worker. I was able to vent about everything going on in my head, and just doing that made me feel better. I also spoke with a psychiatrist. They were kind, caring, and understanding. If I was going to be in Toronto, they could have referred me to services there, but since I was going back to Hamilton they recommended I reach out to my old supports. I also was given the option of being admitted if I didn’t feel safe. Since I felt a bit better, I ended up going home.
A Mind Warrior 