The Depressed Educator: If only “getting help” really worked like that

Updated: Nov 14, 2021

I have been spending a great deal of my time talking about the mental health of educators and students. Maybe it’s because so much of my life is wrapped up in dealing with mental health that I feel it’s time we talk about it. Maybe it’s because I hope that my story or experiences help others. Maybe it’s because writing about it helps me. My mother had mental health issues, I have PTSD which has resulted in depression and anxiety, my youngest daughter has depression and anxiety from the trauma of her adoption. I go to school and work with kids that have mental health issues both diagnosed and not. It literally directly surrounds me every single day. Society ignores it because so many of us still remember our grandparent’s world where we were safe to ride our bikes to a friend’s house and come home when it started to get dark and we didn’t speak about things that were unpleasant. But, we don’t live in that world anymore. We live in a world where students come to school and beat up their teachers and shoot their teachers and classmates. Where young and old are taking their own lives because they feel like not living is preferable to how they live. If there was ever a time to start talking about mental health issues, this is it (actually, it was probably about 10 years ago).


When I wrote Destigmatizing the Depressed Educator, I was both glad so many people connected with it and heartbroken that so many did. I received private messages from people with stories of suicide attempts, shock therapies (yes, that’s a thing), and feelings of hopelessness so deeply profound that it made me cry. I was humbled that so many were willing to share their stories with me. I was also angry that they all said that they didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone because they didn’t want to be seen as weak, pathetic, incompetent or unstable. How awful is it that someone struggling should have to then worry about what other’s think, even though the people around them are what they need for support to make it through their most difficult times.


My latest lesson is that getting help is not easy. Although I have had depression for a long time, I haven’t gone in for assistance for years. I’ve been handling it on my own, which probably hasn’t been my smartest move. But, like with many educators, when it comes down to time and what needs to be taken out to accommodate everything from our work to our own families, what is specific to us is the first thing to go. It was no different for me. For 20 years I was married, raised four kids, and went for my undergrad and grad school degrees every semester without fail while working. I was focused on getting through my days, and while there were times that I did go in for counseling, it was not something that I did on a regular basis. But, this last December, I honestly had a very close call with being unable to control my depression. A few of my friends convinced me to get help, and when the logical side of my brain finally kicked in, I knew they were right. So, I began my search for help feeling hopeful that I would be able to get in and be seen quickly to ward off any slipping back into the dark abyss of where I was.


I have discovered that it is not only nearly impossible, but it’s time-consuming. The medical field and community partnerships make it sound like help is available all the time. All you do is call the Suicide Hotline or a counselor and you’ll be on your way to recovery. While I’ve never called that number, and I would certainly hope that they would be quick to help, my experience was a far cry from how I imagined it would be. First, I spent hours on the insurance company’s website looking for a counselor that might fit my needs. Did I need a psychiatrist? Psychologist? A counselor? I had no idea. I knew I had PTSD and was desperately looking for someone who specialized in that. Finally, I found what seemed like