Yes, I Worked at Disneyland and How it Taught Me to Talk About My Depression

When I was 22 I auditioned for a job at Disneyland, landed a job as a performer, and moved to a little city just outside of Anaheim. It all started off great. I made a few close friends, ended up in a spot with a great roommate, and actually (mostly) enjoyed my job. Working at Disney had been a dream of mine and performing has always been a passion.

As the months went by, I was working close to full time hours but kept getting denied full-time status, meaning no benefits and no job security. Working at Disneyland definitely taught me all about the downsides of working for a capitalist corporation. Even though I was feeling undervalued at my job, the actual work was so much fun and I had a community there. I had a few close friends who I loved spending time with but I still kept my mental health struggles to myself, never telling anyone about my proneness to major depressions and anxiety. So as I started to get depressed, I isolated more and more, keeping my mental health problems a secret.

About 6 months into the job, I was clocking out of work when I had a major panic attack. I sat in my car for an hour, crying uncontrollably, fully convinced that I was going to hyperventilate and die. I called my mom who was 400 miles away and she asked if I could call any of my friends who are closer for help. I said no. So, she told me to drive myself to the hospital. When I got there, I walked up to the front desk, still sobbing and struggling to catch my breath, and told them I was having a panic attack and needed help. They admitted me and sent me to a room where I sat by myself for two hours. 

When the doctor finally arrived, she prescribed me some Xanax and antidepressants and sent me on my way. In total, my panic attack lasted 3 hours and I was by myself the entire time. I had never felt more alone. I went back to my apartment and holed up in my room until my mom showed up. In the end, I decided to quit my job, leave Southern California, and move back in with my mom. 

I try not to dwell and ruminate on what if’s, so over the years I’ve practiced reframing my experiences with depression not as “what if I had done this” or “I should’ve done that” but instead asking myself what I learned and what I will do differently next time. So what did I learn from this experience? It wasn’t until I was in crisis, feeling like I didn’t have anybody to ask for help that I realized how it is vital to have a support system who knows about my mental health problems. 

After I got back from the hospital, I explained to my roommate why my mom was coming to visit, which pretty much forced me to tell him about my depression. He not only empathized and expressed his sincerest support, but also shared with me his own personal experiences with depression. The whole time I was struggling, I was living with someone who was willing and ready to help, I just didn’t know it. And in fact, he had been trying to help me. He’d invite me to the gym, encouraged me to come out of my room by asking me to watch movies with him, took me to see a musical, and, of course, we’d go hang out in Disneyland together. But I never explicitly came out and asked for help or talked about my depression, so it was something that we never spoke openly about.

This post is not about scaring you into talking about your depression. “If you don’t tell anyone about your depression, you will have a 3 hour panic attack and die.” 

This post is also not about speculating whether or not I could’ve avoided that depressive episode by telling my friends. 

What this post is about is how important it is to talk about it and to emphasize the fact that you are never alone. There are so many people out there struggling with mental illness and sometimes they’re as close as your own roommate. But you’ll never know if you don’t talk about it. Having a support system is one of the keys to maintaining mental health and wellness and the only way to create one is to actually talk about it. 

If the person you’re confiding in hasn’t experienced depression themselves, I can guarantee you that they know someone who has. Over the years I’ve become more and more comfortable talking about my depression and anxiety and now it comes up in regular conversation. It’s not this big hidden shameful secret but rather a fact about my life and who I am. All of my friends know about my mental health issues and in turn they tell me about theirs. Mental health and wellness is something that we’re in constant dialogue about. 

In the end, it was shame that kept me from sharing my mental health struggles with my friends. And you know what? That was not my fault. Nobody had ever told me how important it was to have a support system close by. Nobody ever talked to me about the shame and stigma surrounding mental health. The shame that we feel about our mental health problems is real and that shame is supported and fed by the stigma surrounding mental health. But you know what is the best way to combat shame and stigma? Talking about it. Shame and stigma breeds and festers in silence. Insert Brené Brown quote here. 

I can’t stress enough how much being open about my depression and mental health struggles has transformed my relationships with those closest to me. My relationships have depth, are filled with compassion, and I am constantly surrounded by genuine and authentic love. When I am in my darkest days, there is nothing more profound and powerful than going to my friends and loved ones, telling them how I’m struggling, and being met with love and kindness and support. I want that for you and I want that for everyone struggling with their mental health. Choose someone who makes you feel safe and who has consistently made space for you and talk about it. You are not alone but it is up to you to talk about it and to ask for help. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better when you do.