«The wait was a horror»

I was 13 when I realised that my lows weren't just mood swings. Sure, friends had bad days, but they also had good ones. Not me: this bad feeling had been running through my days for months. I was completely exhausted, even though - as I kept telling myself - I hadn't achieved anything.

The days dragged on. First I couldn't make it to school, then I couldn't get out of bed. My body was paralysed, my mind was running at full speed: I had disappointed my parents, would miss out on school, lose my friends. I felt fear, sadness and shame. My family went out of their way to help me. At some point, my parents said they didn't have the necessary knowledge to deal with the situation and suggested therapy. I was open to it.

It took over two months before an outpatient place became available. They said I needed inpatient therapy because of my depression. I could barely manage to shower and eat, I was self-harming. Over the next eight months, however, no place became available - I was sent home, the outpatient therapy as a crutch to tide me over. The waiting was horrendous.

First I couldn't make it to school, then I couldn't get out of bed. My body was paralysed and my mental cinema was running at full speed.

Emil, 19

Then the first hospitalisation - five months in which I found my way back to a daily structure. I received empathetic support and became friends with my current best colleague. My return to everyday life was gradual, but it was still like jumping in at the deep end. What followed was a turbulent year and a half. In the struggle for self-control, I developed an eating disorder that made me return to the clinic at the beginning of the third second.

The second stay, three months this time, allowed me to return stronger. I had always done well at school, didn't have to repeat any exams despite absences and was able to start my dream apprenticeship. It's demanding at school, with lots of physics and maths. But I enjoy learning - because it interests me. It's a privilege to deal with content that inspires you. My subject teacher thinks I should go on to study engineering - who knows?

I had a good childhood, a safe home. Why did it still throw me off course? I think scientifically, always looking for causal connections. When I look back on my illness, I don't get any further. It's not an equation that you can simply solve, there was no domino X that brought everything crashing down.

The whole thing can best be compared to a mosaic whose pieces are all connected to each other. The oldest ones are from early childhood, and more are added with every experience. Sometimes, years later, one thing jumps out at you - you recognise an interplay that you were not aware of. We are probably never finished with this confrontation. After all, it always provides us with new insights.