When we were speaking about her post for Life is Sweet month, my friend Shannon said that even some of her closest friends didn't know this story. Maybe it's because I speak so openly about it, but Shannon and I talked about her experience with depression fairly early into our friendship. I am honored she would open up to me as a friend, but also be willing to share it with all of you in this post.
I was 21, and I was having the time of my life. I was
a professional cheerleader and university student, had great friends and a
wonderful family. It was everything I could have wished for when I blew out my
candles that year. That was of course, until I flunked my LSAT’s. Truth be
told, I don’t have the brain for it. The way I think would always need to be
flipped and altered to get the answer required to pass. But I’m a “trier” and
gave it a whirl anyway. The night I found out my abysmal score, I set out for a
wild night on the town, and wild I sure did find.
That night I met my boyfriend, and for the sake of this
story I will call him Hunter. When we locked eyes on the dance floor, it was
one of those movie moments that I can still recall like it happened yesterday.
He glanced over, and I, with a coy eye, glanced back, and it was as if the sea
of people parted for us to say hello, which we didn’t. Instead we danced and
proceeded to kiss like we had known each other for years. Immediate
passion. This lead to a whirlwind romance I will never forget. Late night
conversations 3 days before Christmas, and then the best gift I could have
asked for – a brand new, shiny, boyfriend.
Things quickly became tricky. He played hockey in the
States, and lived about 3 hours away. We were smitten, and would Skype daily,
feeling like we weren’t even apart. He came home to surprise me a few days
later at New Year’s, and I got what I had always wanted, the perfect New Year’s
kiss, with my perfect new boyfriend.
Then things began to fall apart.
Two and a half weeks after we met I was at the
Doctor’s office with my Mom and was saying that it was strange I hadn’t heard
from Hunter that day. I had sent him a quick text asking him how his day was
only to later receive one back that knocked the wind out of me.
“I’m in Toronto. I can’t talk right now. We need to talk
At 21, I was very inexperienced in relationships. I had
barely had a boyfriend before and this accelerated version of one seemed as
though it was about to come to an end. I couldn’t help but think it had
something to do with me. My insecurities, of course, got the best of me.
Later that evening, when he wanted to meet, I demanded to
know the reason why. I didn’t want to be left out in the frigid cold
January night air shut down by him. He proceeded to tell me that it had nothing
to do with me, and to leave it alone. He said he would tell me later. I pushed
it, I wanted to know.
“My brother committed suicide this morning.”
My heart dropped. He would be over soon – he needed me.
The next 5 days felt like one big blur, except for one
defining moment. He told me he loved me. For most, that would feel quick. But
for me it felt right. I didn’t understand how two people could be linked so
quickly, but ask anyone who was around for those moments, and they saw it
We watched movies. We talked for hours. We went on dates and
often fell asleep on the couch in my parents’ basement, despite my Dad’s
disapproval. Here I was, assisting in the distraction of a boy who was mourning
the loss of his younger brother. A boy who seemed even younger than he was,
confused with no answers. I became his escape, his shoulder to cry on, and his
rock. After 2 ½ weeks I was someone’s rock, a role I had never played before.
Within the next week, the funeral came and went, and I was
asked on the spot after the large service to attend the private burial. I met
all of Hunter’s family, and was thanked repeatedly for helping him through this
difficult time. I thought, naively that this would all start to fade away. I
knew that Hunter would mourn, but he would go back to school and start to live
his life again, the best way he could. I didn’t think that the anger would be
turned towards me.
For a long time I sat in the front seat of a roller coaster –
up and down, loop-de-loop, clinging tight for survival. I felt like I was
dating two people, none who seemed to remind me of the person I had met, the
memory of a man that still brings a smile to my face. I had surgery that summer
and he didn’t remember that it even happened. He made irrational life
decisions, commented to an extreme length about my weight, and isolated me from
my family and friends when he was around. I didn’t once realize that the
instability could have related back to the event that shook his world a mere 9
The day we broke up, he shattered me. A brief phone call
spun me into a depression as he pulled back and forth with my emotions. Wanting
me and then dismissing me, on repeat for 8 months.
I allowed someone to affect my mental health.
Someone who wasn’t fully stable, sucked me in, and left me
in a dark corner to question all of my insecurities. It took a long time, and a
loving family, to pull me out of it. I’m glad they did.
Looking back I can see how I risked my own emotional health
for someone else’s. It was a domino effect. It wasn’t that I was really sad,
and the break-up was hard to get over. It was beginning to make me sick, a
syndrome I still manage today, and not crying prior to 10 am was deemed a
successful day. I was barely functioning and I hid it well from people. I
didn’t want my friends to know, I thought it would seem pathetic.
I often hated Hunter, and sometimes I still find myself
angry with him. But what I have realized is that he suffered more than I did. I
may have gone through a bout of depression but he lives with it every day of
his life. It takes a strong and secure person to be a rock, and I did my best.
He was scared to shed light on a dark issue, and all I wanted to do was hold
If we talked about mental illness more, about suicide and
the effects it has on those left behind, I may have known how to protect myself
from the vortex. I may have saved us both a long road of agony. Instead of
talking, we immediately assume the worst and want someone put on medication, or
simply think they are downright crazy. There is no dialogue, no conversation,
and no place to turn without judgment. I can only hope that through many people
opening up about their experience with suicide or someone’s emotional
instability, or going through depression like I did, that the topic of mental
health won’t be so taboo.
I drive by Hunter’s brother’s grave often, and give him a
half smile. I’m reminded of how weak I once was, and how strong I now am. May his
brother rest in peace, and may we all learn to show a little more compassion to
those we don’t fully understand
Shannon wears pearls to the ballpark. A Social Media
Manager and Toronto sports personality, Shannon was a Toronto Argos
Cheerleader for 2 seasons, in-game host of the Toronto Rock for 3 seasons and
the current Associate Producer for 3rd and Long on CBC Sports.