I was diagnosed with depression two weeks ago, but I've been depressed much longer than that. I successfully hid it in my last year of high school, mostly because I was in denial, and tried to "snap out of it". People started to notice it when I became a sophmore in college, but I just brushed it off as "the I-don't-want-to-be-in-school blues."
Now I'm a senior in college, and I couldn't deal with the depression on my own anymore. So, I talked to my doctor over Spring Break, and he prescribed me Lexapro, and referred me to some psychologists and psychiatrists near my university.
I have yet to make an appointment.
I don't know why I'm avoiding seeing a shrink. Maybe its because if I turn up "missing" from some event with my friends, they'll ask me where I was and I'll have to explain. I've kept these new developments to myself, mostly, only telling close friends and my professors. Why? Because I saw the way my father reacted when my mother told him, and how he treated me when I was doubled over from the side affects of the anti-depressent, and I don't want it to happen again.