Lesson 3 - Table 3.1. David Goldberg's Story

Table 3.1: David Goldberg’s Story

My name is David Goldberg and I have a mental illness. I’m sure many of you have heard of depression. This is a serious mental illness that has caused major problems in my life. I was born in Delaware, to a loving family. I lived there for about 6 years, attended Montessori when I was age 4 and 5. Shortly before we moved from Delaware, my sister was born. My family and I moved to Minnesota when my dad was transferred to work in Minneapolis. You might be thinking if you’ve moved before, that moving can be a traumatic experience. Believe me, it can be, but not at this point in my life. I remember being excited to start elementary school (and a bit nervous).

Elementary school was mostly uneventful. I was enrolled in primarily accelerated/gifted classes. I spent most of my time hanging out with the neighborhood kids and a couple good friends down the street. The only negative thing I can really think of is being picked on for being nerdy and overweight. That upset me, but it wasn’t until middle school where I started experiencing some more serious problems.

In the middle of sixth grade, things started to change. I was invited to join the International Baccalaureate program because I performed very well academically in elementary school. Unfortunately, this meant a lot more work. I wouldn’t really call it a “program for smart kids”. It was more that the amount of homework we received sucked the life out of us. Academically, I wasn’t doing so great. There was a ton of competitive pressure and my dad was laid off from his job.

When my dad lost his job, I knew that it meant we would have to move again. I had plenty of friends and I liked Minnesota, but that would all soon change. When my mom told me the news, we both cried. It’s still clear in my mind. We were driving home from school in the old minivan. She said we’d have to make some changes, which basically meant less spending, but that didn’t bother me. I was just concerned about moving.

My mental illness started when I was about 12 years old. My dad found a new job in Des Plaines, IL. This the first time I remember feeling “depressed”. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. I struggled with telling my friends that I was leaving. My mom called several of them and told them the news. I was not the same happy kid that I used to be. My personality became much darker. I found solace in heavy metal and violent games and movies. I felt down and sad a lot more than I ever had before.

School now became a challenge. I didn’t really care. My grades turned from A’s and B’s to B’s and C’s. My mediocre grades placed me into the “slow” classes. I continued to be on the slow track throughout high school and I really do blame my mental illness for this. I really started to self-handicap myself by never studying, but this isn’t just about school. I began to have trouble committing to friends and family obligations for fear of having to leave them behind. Regret was common for me. I tended to dwell on the past, believing life would be so much better if we never moved. Minnesota was great for me and suddenly I’m dragged down to shitty Illinois. There’s certainly more to this part, but I’m afraid I don’t remember a lot from 12 years ago. Freud might say that I’m repressing those memories.

I continued to suffer in school. My parents took me to see a psychologist, Dr. Hayes, whom I met with on a regular basis until I graduated high school. It was nice having a neutral party to talk to. My family and I fought a lot at this time in my life. If I even brought up an idea, I felt like my parents would just shoot it down. It’s like they had to approve of anything I thought of. This was very disheartening for me.

I began to develop a fascination with swords, knives and axes, which led to me buying my first katana at age 13. Whenever I became upset or angry, I’d always find comfort in my weapons. I’d walk around the room, holding one, admiring its blade. This was a type of suicidal ideation. Although I never injured myself, I thought about it quite often. Hurting myself seemed like a wonderful idea, but at the same time, I never liked the sight of blood and I knew this would negatively impact my future. I had some friends who cut, but I had the discipline to stop myself. As for my friends who did, I can’t blame them.

Fast forward a few years. High school was the worst. I felt like I was in prison. One wrong move and the teachers would bust you for anything. But it wasn’t just the teachers, it was my friends, too. I got harassed many times for being Jewish. I never even knew what a “kike” was until someone called me by the word. This happened on a semi-regular basis, but there was one time that was exceptionally bad. I was surrounded by a group of students in a circle, who chanted hurtful things like “stupid Jew” and “kike” and “Christ killer”. I managed to break out of the circle. Once I got home, I cried to my parents. They tried to comfort me and together we went to the dean. The good news was that no one bothered me for my religion anymore, but now I’ve been labeled as a tattle-tale. This happened when I was a junior. My junior year was easily the worst year in high school. It got so bad, I considered dropping out. My parents convinced me that education was the path to freedom and instead I graduated a semester early.

How does this relate to my depression? I was incredibly disturbed by this event and my self-loathing and suicidal ideation was worse than ever. Had I not had a supportive family and a great therapist, I don’t think I’d be alive today. This event kept coming up in my counseling sessions. It took me quite some time to get over this and I’m a pretty resilient person. I’m not trying to say that my life was any harder than anyone else’s. I know a lot of people who struggled during high school, but this bullying really made me struggle on top of my chronic depression. Bullying someone for being different is such a terrible thing and I’m afraid I just don’t understand the motive.

When I went away to college, my relationship with my family improved greatly. I had that freedom I had always wanted. The first year away was great! I was happy to be four hours away. I may have partied a bit too much my first semester, but I straightened up my act. This was the first time in my life I really didn’t experience depression. I had a strong group of friends. My dorm roommate and I got along great!
However, depression is a chronic condition. The next year, I began to hate Springfield.

I realized that such a small school wasn’t for me. I ended up transferring to University of Illinois at Chicago. Life improved greatly. I loved living in the city. I no longer had to deal with bullying (from high school). I still suffered from anxiety and depression in this new environment. However, I was consistently happier than I ever had been. Depression was something I could shove under the rug and not worry about it. I joined a fraternity and am still active with my chapter today. My support group was like a tree with many, many branches.

After college, life got bad. I was a poor college graduate. I needed money, so I found a job completely unrelated to my field, shipping John Deere tractors all over the world. It was alright at first, but I quickly discovered the hypocrisy of the corporate workplace. The money was good, but the authoritarian style environment was just awful. I called in sick many times just to get a break from the terrible office. Because I was so depressed, I decided I needed to get out of there. I applied to Illinois Institute of Technology, and they accepted me!

I was working 25 hours/week at the same company during my first semester there. It was rough. I quit after a few months. Several colleagues commented on how much happier I seemed. I was finally working toward a field I had gone to college for. I started taking anti- depressants about a year ago. That and a healthy lifestyle have really improved my quality of life. I still get depressed once in a while, but life’s not perfect. I’m proud to say that my mental illness is manageable.

Despite these problems, I have achieved several accomplishments. I graduated from UIC in 2011 and will be graduating from IIT in May 2014. I have a 4.0 grade point average. I’ve discovered that I belong in academia and intend to pursue a PhD in the future. I have traveled to over 40 states as well as several foreign countries. I was awarded a Black Belt in Karate and Tae Kwon Do when I was 16. I still actively practice. I am financially independent and now have a great relationship with my family.

Despite my accomplishments, I have experienced some stigma and unfair responses to my illness. The first thing that comes to mind is my family “dumbing me down”, rejecting my ideas while I was depressed. If they could have just listened more, I think our relationship would’ve improved while I was living at home.

I “came out” to a few people in 2011 and got some surprisingly negative responses. “Why don’t you just be happy?” “Get over it!” “You have no reason to be sad. You have a loving family. Unlike you, I’ve seen some REAL shit in my life.” If you’re thinking about coming out, that’s great, but you should really weigh the pros and cons before you actually do. A couple friends have been amazed that mental illness runs in my family. When I told them, they didn’t understand. “It’s genetic? But how? You’re not always depressed.” I explained that Bipolar disorder and depression are common throughout my mother’s side of the family. There were a couple distant relatives who had schizophrenia. Another relative committed suicide before I was born. He would have been diagnosed with PTSD.