18? When I finally told someone about my anxiety attacks and I was diagnosed with anxiety and clinical depression?
11? When I first started experiencing panic attacks that kept me from being able to sleep?
24? When I had to find a way to articulate to my fiance that sometimes, for no reason, I fear that he'll stop loving me because of my anxiety?
15? When my Papaw died suddenly and I was thrown into a deep struggle with severe depression and panic attacks?
16? When I could no longer deal with my crippling mood drops and panic attacks and I took as many pills as I could get my hands on, hoping to end the almost 2 year period of endless pain I could no longer bear?
My mental illness journey has been long, painful, and very difficult to cope with. Even at almost 25 years old, more than 10 years since I first began dealing with symptoms, I'm still learning how to live with depression and anxiety, because even though I've learned how to better cope with panic attacks, and even though I don't think about suicide every night, my depression and my anxiety disorder still affect me.
I think the biggest lesson I've learned so far in my journey is the importance of openness and education. It wasn't until I was almost 18 that I discovered that depression isn't just a noun for being really sad. Depression is a medical condition related to the chemicals produced in your brain. Even after my doctor explained it to me, and even after seeing several therapists, and starting antidepressants, it took me several years to accept my situation.
Had I known when I was 15 that I might be suffering from an illness, my life could have turned out very differently. I spent years thinking that I was broken, weak, and worthless. I thought I was defective. I prayed endlessly for strength, to be better. I wondered if all of my friends and classmates felt like this. Was this really just hormones? It couldn't be, could it? Was my best friend crying herself to sleep and in so much physical and emotional pain that she hoped she would die?
We need to make sure that our kids, these young people who are trying to grow in such a stressful world, know that its okay to not be okay. They need to know that there is nothing wrong with social anxiety, or being depressed. They can't control it. They are not weak. They are not broken. Just like someone with diabetes needs insulin, their body needs a little extra help to function at its best.
Late at night, when I'm waiting for my xanax to kick in after a 2 am panic attack, or when I'm crying in the shower because something has overwhelmed me that day, I worry about my kids. I pray that my future kids never have to deal with depression, anxiety, ADHD, or any form of mental illness. I hope they're happy and healthy and never have to question their own sanity. But I will also make sure they know that if they ever need help, they will get it with no judgement.
No one should ever feel so lost, alone, or helpless that they think the only way to ever escape their pain is by hurting themselves. No one should ever be too ashamed to ask for help, or fear judgement if they reach out to someone. We need to make it known that mental illness is not shameful.
You're not alone. You're not broken. We're all here for you.
