I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety in October of 2010. Most college freshman face similar challenges; moving away from home, making new friends, living on one's own, distance from loved ones, academic stress, and the pressure of complete independence. I seemed to be doing well with these challenges on the surface, yet internalized a great deal of stress.

I manifested my stress in a completely controlled lifestyle. I was an absolute slave in my own body. Coffee with skim milk and two splendas, 40 calories. Yogurt, 130 calories. An apple, 60 calories. A six mile run, -600 calories, success. Before I knew it, I was restricting myself to 1000 calories a day. I entered every single bite of food and exercise in to a weight loss app on my phone. In an unpredictable and stressful environment, my body was the one aspect of my life which I completely controlled.

Restriction was not the answer; often I was moody, starving, weak, dizzy, and constantly on edge. I would sit up in bed in my dorm room dizzy with hunger. My vision would blur as I made my way to the bathroom sink, the dresser, the door, the elevator. I would sit slumped over in class preoccupied with the growling of my stomach and unable to focus on the professor.

And then, the binging. A furious walk back to the dorm. My safe place. I rushed to the dinging hall desperate with hunger. I would fill the pockets of my over sized sweatshirt with all of the bad foods; peanut butter, cookies. Soon I was back in my room recharging with all of the comforts I had been denying myself.

Then...sleep. I would curl up in a ball for hours at a time in my bed especially following a binge. I gave myself licence to relax and just let go while the day continued around me.

I came to realize I had a real problem when I noticed my new lifestyle was interrupting the friendships I had established earlier in the semester. I had no motivation to go out to parties, I ate meals often alone, my roommate would shake me from bed if she feared I was sleeping too much. I was living an isolated life despite my usual outgoing and fun-loving personality. I wore sweats everyday of the week, I was sleeping 12 hour nights and taking two hour naps daily. I was not like myself.

With the help of my family and friends I sought resources on campus. I went on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication. I also began weekly therapy. Yet, I was not thriving at school. I would travel two hours home to Connecticut almost every weekend to "decompress" and seek peace outside the stress of school and a big city.

I have taken the second semester off to regroup and seek intensive therapy four days a week. I have been forced to put my education and social life on the back burner as I "re-learn how to care for myself." (As they say in therapy.)

For the rest of my friends, the second semester of school has just started this week. It was not until last night when I realized the severity of my situation. A therapist told me yesterday to think about the last month of my life and how intense it has been for me. 2011 has not been easy thus far.

On the night of January 2, 2011 I overdosed on 10 mg of Klonopin, my anti-anxiety medication. I was in a deep depression. Days prior to this night I had been completely unmotivated and numb. Stress in my personal life had lead me to feel lonely, abandoned, and worthless. I was unable to get out of bed, let alone leave the house or even work out. I felt like a failure, a prisoner to this disease. So, in an act of desperation I wanted to feel relief from this state. Then came the pills. I started with two, and before I knew it it was four, six, ten, twenty. I got what I wanted, a complete state of oblivion. I knew I was in trouble and called for help. I did not wish to die.

At the time I felt disconnected from my body. Only when I reflect on the night do I understand the severity of the situation. I vaguely recall the terrified expressions of my friends' faces, the clutch of my father's cold hand when he met me in the emergency room, the concerned glance from my sleepless mother from across the room the next morning.

I lost friendships, trust, relationships, and responsibility. I feel as though I have reverted back to a child-like state where my well being is every one's main concern. Day to day is a struggle for me. I am thankful to have the support that I do to keep me focused on my self care.

This blog is an important outlet for me to express what I have been through and educate others. I was hesitant to do so, but encouraged by friends and family to write about my experience. I am aware that my challenge with anxiety and depression may evoke reactions of surprise, sadness, or comfort to those whom can relate. One of my comforts is that these diseases are nothing but a medical condition. There is no shame in mental illness, it does not define the individual.