MY story

Agoraphobia, Anorexia, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Bulimia, Depression, Schizophrenia, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Panic Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and many many more. These are just a few common mental illnesses that affect individuals all over the world. In fact, one in four adults, or approximately 57.7 million Americans, experience some mental health disorder in any given year. Mental illnesses affects all different demographics and does not discriminate against age, race, religions, or income.

Unfortunately, there is a great negative stigma that comes along with mental illnesses. This stigma affects confidence that these mental disorders are real health conditions. Just like cancer and diabetes, mental illnesses are medical conditions that result from an imbalance in the brain. These conditions cannot be overcome through sheer willpower and are not the result of personal weakness. Unfortunately these negative stigmas have brought about a sense of shame, which keeps people from sharing their stories.

Well, I refuse to be ashamed of my story. But it hasn’t always been that way…

Growing up I was always an anxious child. I sat out during field day because I was nervous I would mess something up and get made fun up. I sat on the side during birthday parties because the noises and people made me uncomfortable. I was certainly not a deprived child and I actually had a pretty normal childhood. In elementary school, and even in middle school, I had trouble sleeping in my own room. It made me nervous to be in there alone in the dark. So up until 8^th grade I slept on the floor in my parents bedroom. It was around then that my mom started taking me to therapy to find out the real reason behind my fears. After a year or so with my psychologist, we chalked it up to general anxiety and moved on. I was sleeping in my own room, so there was really nothing to worry about. However that all changed my sophomore year of high school. I was sitting in Spanish class when a boy in my class proceeded to throw up all over the door. It didn’t seem like a big deal in the moment, but that single event was just what I needed to tip off a long, hard battle with panic disorder. Going home that night, all I could talk about or think of was that boy throwing up. I remember pouring a glass of water out on the kitchen floor and explaining to my mom that that is what is sounded like when the boy threw up. My mind was obsessed and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The next morning I told my mom I wasn’t feeling well and I stayed home from school. This pattern continued for the next few days, until finally both me and my mother realized that there was again something deeper going on. So the next week I tried to go to school. And just like that my life changed. I could no longer go to class without having a major panic attack. I was frustrated because I didn’t know exactly what I was so nervous about, but I just knew that I couldn’t do it. I found myself shaking, sweating, heart racing, knees weak, ears muffled, and hyperventilating just from sitting in class. I called my mom and told her she had to pick me up. I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I tried to negotiate and go to one class a day, but even that became too hard. It was back to therapy for me, where I was then diagnosed with full blown panic disorder with agoraphobic tendencies. I was anxious in the car, in the grocery store, at school, and in my own house. I was living in a constant state of anxiety sprinkled with horrifying panic attacks. I hated myself. I hated my body and my mind for doing this to me. I hated being in my own skin. I stopped going to school and worked from a hospital homebound program. My teachers were very supportive, especially my math and chorus teachers. But it was still hard being away from my friends and not being able to lead a normal life. I thought I was actually going “crazy”. I would cry and cry and cry before therapy sessions, telling my mom “I don’t want to go to therapy! The only people who go to therapy are crazy people!”. And at the time, that really is what I believed to be true. With almost 2 full years of being hospital homebound, I returned full time during my senior year. This all happened 8 years ago, and yet I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was by far the hardest time in my life, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Words can’t even being to explain the isolation, anxiety, fear, sadness, and anger I felt during that time in my life.

I wish I could say that I wouldn’t trade that time in my life for the world. But I haven’t quite gotten to that point yet. However I do know that I am who I am today because of what I had to go through. For a long time I was ashamed of my story. I was embarrassed that I was different, and society made me feel like I was “crazy”. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was far from it. I was strong and I made it through something hard. Does that make me crazy? No. So I tell my story with pride. My personality, my thoughts, feelings, struggles, and victories are all shaped by what I have overcome, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my struggle with a mental illness.

So if you are struggling with a mental illness, any mental illness at all, please don’t be ashamed. Your struggles are molding you to become a better person. To be more tolerant and understanding and empathetic. And stronger. And you will get through it. Although it may seem hopeless and never ending, like it did many times for me, there is always something to look forward to and hope for. Things do get better. And although you may feel like it, you are not alone in your struggles. There are 57.7 million Americans struggling with a mental illness right now! So don’t be afraid to ask for help. We all need help sometimes, especially when there is something going on with our health. You are important and you matter, and you are worthy of help, just like a person with cancer or diabetes. So don’t let a stigma define you. Define yourself and show others that you are more than an illness. Show them that mental illnesses aren’t a sign of weakness, but rather a sign that you are full of strength. And in the words of Shantel Van Santen, “I encourage you to share your story, because you have been given a gift. The gift of a voice. So honor it and use it for a positive change. Use it so that others might feel inspired by your strength and know that they’re not alone. We all struggle. We’re all human. We all feel things. And it doesn’t matter if we’re male or female; what age, religion, sexuality, job, or walk of life. It’s universal.”

Don’t be afraid to be who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you are meant to be. Whether you are currently struggling or have struggled in the past; you are strong, there is hope, and your illness does not have to define you.