Introducing Jane’s Journey: Day 1 & 2

Note: This essay neither includes nor encourages recommendations of treatments for any illness. Always consult with your physician(s) before making any changes to your treatment. Additionally, this essay includes mentions of sexual assault.

Throughout my freelance writing career, I have written openly about my struggles with depression. I was first diagnosed with the illness in college, and was lucky enough to have NYU student health insurance, which meant I had some of the best mental health professionals in my corner that money could buy. (This same money exists as student debt today, but we’ll discuss that another time.) In the 12 years since I first began treatment, I have tended to myself with weekly therapy sessions, an unchanging cocktail of psychotropic medications, and attempts—not always consistent, but sincere nevertheless—at self-care.

The covid-19 pandemic worsened my depression, however. It wasn’t just the state of the world that perturbed me. My fellow humans’ reluctance to care for each other (only 59% of my county is fully vaccinated), the American government encouraging workers (including teachers) to get back to work at the risk of their own immunocompromised loved ones while refusing to mandate workplace vaccines, the devastation of long covid, the supply chain crises that have caused shortages in some of the most important goods and services in our society—I could go on. Almost exactly a year ago, I reported my worsening depression to my psychiatrist, who adjusted my medication, but tweaks never…