Of course it may not.
In case you're reading this and you're not me, I'll give a little bit of background.
I'm nearly 22 years old. I have a good degree from a top quality university. I got ok A level results and good GCSE results. My subject is maths. The interconnectedness of it all pleases me. People have told me I'm slightly autistic. I don't like change. I do like patterns. I think these are all reasons that maths is my subject.
I have always known that I want to be a teacher. I used to use teacher training days to go and help in primary schools, I ran clubs and went into other lessons as an assistant at my own secondary school. I got a job at a holiday club. I simply cannot imagine my life without teaching in there somewhere.
During my second year of A level I developed depression. I kept this hidden from everybody for as long as I could. I was ashamed of it. I was strong, I didn't need help. Only weak people and lazy people had depression; they just needed a kick up the arse and to get on with it. Soon, I was self-harming on a regular basis, drinking vodka from the bottle whenever I felt down and losing all ability to concentrate. Friends noticed. I was made to go the doctor. He dismissed me. I felt worse than ever; not only was I actually suffering, but this suffering had been dismissed as trivial and unimportant. Luckily I received outstanding pastoral care at my school. The head of 6th form put me in contact with a free counselling service.
The counselling sessions I had with them were a joke. The counsellor seemed more upset than I was by the answers I was giving to her questions, she made me move rocks to represent my family and other silly things. I felt that it was beneath me and was glad when the six sessions came to an end.
And so I headed off to university. There I faced what was possibly the worst year of my life. I could not concentrate, I could not focus, I drank too much and usually drank alone (often waking up passed out on my bed) and I ended up in A&E due to self harming. That, and a dinner I had attended without remembering (having been so drunk I didn't even remember getting ready to go, let alone the meal itself or being escorted back to my room to stop me making a fool of myself) was the wake up call I needed.
At the start of the year I met the person who is currently my fiance. They have been amazing, and without them I couldn't have coped. It was they who escorted me to those first appointments with both doctor and counsellor, who looked after me when I was feeling at my worst and celebrated with me as I got better.
I'm currently on 60mg of Citalopram daily. The effect appears to be wearing off slightly, and my new doctor is monitoring my progress.