We spend our children’s entire lives envisioning our hopes and dreams for them. Most of us are very aware that their lives are not our “do-over,” and we let the child steer, all while keeping them on the rails, or at least trying to. We let them choose their sports, their friends, their clothes, and their colleges, all while keeping a close watch to be sure rules are maintained, unwanted behaviors are kept at bay, and overall organization is kept in check. Sure, their rooms may not be as tidy as we’d like them to be, but there also aren’t rat colonies forming upstairs under their beds.
Our doctor explained to my son about how depression can make it hard to be motivated to do simple tasks.
As much as we prepare them for college and the real world, there’s no way to tell if they’re really ready until it’s show time. I sent my oldest off to college in August. We celebrated his graduation in style. We took a trip. We ordered all the dorm things, and on one hot August day, we left him three hours away with everything he needed to be successful.
He’s now completed two semesters and returning home for the summer this week.
I’ll say this about this year…it was very difficult. He didn’t “soar” like we hoped he would. He actually crashed the first semester. Like totally crashed, failed two out of five classes, and spent entirely more time working on his fraternity life than he did on his homework. He was missing classes and promising to do better, but then just continuing to not perform.
His Instagram was filled with new friends and fraternity date night photos, but in reality, he was struggling. After the first semester, he was home for a few weeks. We regrouped, gave him a pep talk, and reminded him that he was an A and B student at a challenging high school. We knew he had the tools, he just had to reprioritize and figure out how to use them. He was motivated and ready to show us he could do it.
The second semester started out strong, he was going to class, doing his work, and making good grades. He called me almost daily, and slowly, I noticed the doubt and negative self-talk creep back in. He talked less about classes and more about how he just wasn’t sure school was for him. He couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t motivated to go to class and keep up with his work. Although he was always with friends, he felt lonely.
He had the cutest girlfriend we could imagine, yet he thought no one really knew his feelings. He was depressed. The more I pep talked and tried to build him up, the more negative his thoughts became. “This is supposed to be fun. This isn’t supposed to be this difficult. These classes aren’t that hard. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? Why am I so sad all the time?”
The more he felt like a failure, the harder I tried to talk him up and help him manage his time. Until I couldn’t anymore. One day I just knew he was reaching his breaking point. He was too far away for me to help, but he wasn’t helping himself. So, we brought him home. I was dramatic and frantic, and I knew that bringing him home on a random Thursday three quarters of the way into the second semester may quite possibly jeopardize his grades, that couldn’t take much more strain. But I didn’t care. His mental health was more important.
And it was the right decision. My mother’s intuition has never let me down. I knew I shouldn’t be checking my 19-year-old’s Life360 every day to be sure he was in class when he was supposed to be. I knew that wasn’t how this was supposed to work, but I didn’t know what else I should be doing to help him, so I did what I could.
Once he was home, we scheduled a visit with our general practitioner on that random Thursday. After a 30-minute check-up and blood work, we learned that his blood pressure was elevated. He perfectly described a panic attack he had a few days prior, and he was diagnosed with major depressive disorder.
The doctor explained to him that oftentimes when someone is experiencing depression, they truly can’t muster the internal motivation to complete simple tasks. Their brain is so focused on getting through the day, that they can’t see things for what they are.
This diagnosis shouldn’t have come as a surprise to us. Both my husband and I have struggled with varying degrees of depression and anxiety, but we just didn’t see it coming in the smart, athletic, handsome form of a 19-year-old college student who has their best years ahead.
That day, we started him on a combination of anti-depressants and talk therapy. And trust me, no 19-year-old boy wants to sit in his truck on a college campus for FaceTime appointments with a counselor to talk about his feelings. But he returned to school, and within about ten days, he reported feeling different.
The change has been gradual, but he is now more motivated to complete his schoolwork. His relationships are better, and he’s exercising regularly. He even told me last week that he initiated a meeting with each of his professors where he shared the difficulties, he’s had this semester and the changes he’s made, and pretty much made a last-ditch effort to salvage any portion of his grades that were salvageable. We aren’t sure what next year will bring, but we’re encouraged that his mental state and outlook are improved.
More Great Reading:
How to Find a Therapist for Your College Student
SAMHSA’s National Helpline
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