"I survived depression in my First Year of university!"

She walks with caution. Each step sends a glimpse over her shoulder. Dressed in dark denim jeans and a long-sleeved black top with a hint of white, she has changed a great deal from her earlier months of wearing just wearing black clothing. Ettioné is in first year at Rhodes University and she is a survivor of depression!

My best friend greets me with a soft shy smile that is almost hidden behind her small translucent eyes that tell a story of her past. We casually chat about first year and the adaptions we’ve had to make, over a cup of coffee at the Kaif. “The adjustment to first year in the beginning of the year was quite easy,” she says, twirling the spoon in her coffee with her slender fingers – their nails coated in black nail polish. “I adjusted well, especially in the first week”.

She goes into detail as she explains how things got tough; the pressure of work being the first to engulf her. “I started stressing about the work load so I went out and partied and drank a lot. So much so that I eventually couldn’t even go out anymore!” Her expression changes from one of concernment to sadness. “I started distancing myself from my friends. I became very quiet and alone.”

As I asked how she managed to cope, she tightened her grip around the sleeve of her arm. “I found a way to make myself feel better. That’s when I started cutting my arms. I told no one.” I felt a slight bit of awkwardness in the air around us. She went on to tell me how she tried to hide her cuts. “I always wore long-sleeved tops.” She would wash out her bloody pyjama’s every morning.

Etto, as she is commonly known, told me of how everything started going wrong. “Life fell out of place for me. I often got crap marks for journ and I constantly worried about not making it into second year.” She is studying towards a BJourn (Bachelor of Journalism) degree so the pressure is always on to be a top achiever. “Alcohol couldn’t numb the pain I felt anymore, it made me sick to my stomach when I thought of what a failure I had become. So I started eating a helluva lot!” She ate sweets, chocolates, cakes, pasteries – whatever she could get her hands on she would consume. “The sight I saw in the mirror was a fat me and it made me even more self-conscious and depressed. My self-esteem was gone.”

Etto is a local, having lived in Grahamstown for just over ten years she is now still living at home with her parents. “It’s not easy living at home,” she says. “My parents are always on my case! Irritating me with their rules and restrictions.” Her cutting continued to worsen. Her mom nearly having a stroke, her irritating favoured elder sister and her smokaholic father seemed to make matters worse, in her eyes. “I would always wear black clothes. They ‘hid’ me from the world.”

Luckily the road to recovery came sooner than expected for Etto. “The day that you noticed the cuts on my arms was the day I started tying again. I opened up to you, got lots of things off my chest and realized that there was hope for me!” A week or so later after I had spoken to her about her arms, Etto met an “awesome guy” – Lance, who is now her boyfriend. “He saw my sadness and he helped and comforted me a lot!”

Etto is now on the road to recovery. She attempts to get along with her sister. She no longer binge eats or drinks but instead spends her time with her boyfriend and close friends. Her black sleeve dappled with white patches wipes a tear from her cheek where a tiny smile starts to appear. Etto is my best friend and she has survived depression in her first year. She is a remarkably strong person and is testament to the power of hope and believing in a person’s life.