Years ago, I relocated from Southern California to South Carolina. Shortly after the difficult moving process, I slipped into the darkest depression of my life. I became suicidal, to the point of formulating plans. I knew these thoughts were not normal, but I also was scared about what seeking treatment would mean. You see, I had been hospitalized for self-harm at the age of 17. Back then, I battled depression, severe anxiety, and eating disorders–all of which stemmed from a series of traumatic events in my life. 17 years later, I felt that confessing my problems and seeking treatment would mean I had failed to exercise faith as a disciple of Christ.
After consulting our insurance company, I learned there was only one choice for getting medical help. Because existing insurance coverage didn't transfer to South Carolina, the only way I could be seen for an evaluation was to go to the emergency room for funneling into the local mental hospital.
After consulting our insurance company, I learned there was only one choice for getting medical help. Because existing insurance coverage didn't transfer to South Carolina, the only way I could be seen for an evaluation was to go to the emergency room for funneling into the local mental hospital.
