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To look at my life now, you’d never
guess what was in my past. I graduated from Boston University with
a grade point average of 3.8, lived in Japan for a year, and am
now working with a public relations firm in the Nation’s capital.
But the truth is, I nearly didn’t graduate from high school.
I was one of the smart kids. I attended
high school in a Boston suburb known for its high SAT scores and
college acceptance rates—and in that school, I was one of
two students who scored high enough on the standardized tests to
be named a National Merit Scholar. But things got rocky my junior
year. I started skipping assignments, and my concentration was breaking
down. School became a place of terror for me—where I was afraid
to be seen, afraid to speak. Classmates and teachers alike frightened
me.
During my senior year, I became unable to function. Major depressive
disorder shut me down. I couldn’t maintain my composure in
classes, do my homework, or, eventually, even go to school on a
regular basis. It’s thanks to a certain guidance counselor
that I graduated at all. He waived my missing PE credits and arranged
for me to make up my missing English credits by meeting one-on-one
with my English teacher twice weekly. Unfortunately, that teacher
was not as understanding. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t
just “bite the bullet” and write a paper for him on
his schedule.
But my guidance counselor didn’t give
up on me. He told me that if we could find an alternative way to
get me enough English credits, it would be worth it—that I
was worth it. He arranged for me to participate in an externship
with a local magazine. I went there for only four hours a week,
but the school accepted it as an English credit, and I was able
to graduate.
It took me 2 more years before I was ready
to go to college. The few schools I’d managed to apply to
during my illness were not very receptive to my unorthodox senior-year
schedule and very few accepted me. But at that point in my life,
I wouldn’t have been able to succeed in college anyway. For
the next 2 years, I worked part-time and went to therapy twice a
week, slowly building up all the foundations I needed to live again.
When I finally felt ready to reapply to colleges, the National Merit
Foundation informed me that the scholarship I was supposed to receive
had “expired.” I was very disappointed that my academic
achievements were not as important as following someone else’s
expected plan for life. Would they have withheld the scholarship,
I wondered, for a young person who had been kept from school by
a more “high-profile” condition?
But my achievements in college were well
worth the pains it took to get there. Thanks to the supportive people
at my high school and the university that gave me a second chance,
I had four wonderful years and was elected to the Golden Key and
Phi Beta Kappa honor societies. I was president of a student organization
and became fluent in Japanese—I even spent a year in Japan
after my college graduation. And best of all, I am now a young woman
who is extremely happy with her life.
Jen Wand
Jen’s story comes from the Elimination
of Barriers Initiative. The Initiative features personal accounts
with true stories of real people and their experiences with mental
illnesses. These people have confronted stigma and discrimination,
but with help and hope are in recovery or know someone who has experienced
recovery. They have chosen to share their stories to inspire others
and help people understand that mental illnesses are real, common,
and treatable—and that recovery is possible.
Visit the Elimination of Barriers Initiative
at http://www.allmentalhealth.samhsa.gov/mystory.html.
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