When I was initially diagnosed with depression, I was sixteen years old. My doctors believed it stemmed from the struggles I faced after my parents’ divorce and the challenges of school. My mental health took a significant turn after my father passed away while I was in high school.
The anxiety started creeping in after a traumatic event, manifesting as panic attacks. I reached a point where I desperately wanted to stop these behaviors, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt powerless to change.
I also experienced frightening hallucinations, leaving me unsure of what was real and what was imagined. At my lowest, I felt completely worthless, alienated, and destructive, with no hope of recovery. It was as though a dark, oppressive cloud hung over me constantly, making me feel isolated and hopeless. I truly believed I would never escape this state—that it was my permanent reality.
This despair made me feel like I’d never achieve my goals or ambitions. I became detached, as though trapped in a bubble, hearing the muffled voices of those around me. During my first significant mental breakdown, I felt so overwhelmed that I ran away from home, convinced the world would be better off without me. My mental health struggles made me oscillate between extreme highs and lows, which I often couldn’t control.
Every day felt like a battle. Even simple tasks seemed insurmountable. Social situations became a challenge, and I found it difficult to commit to normal activities. I often wanted to hide away, depression feeling a constant pressure to make everyone around me happy while silently struggling.
The stigma associated with mental health conditions added another layer of difficulty. For instance, people often have misconceptions about eating disorders, assuming individuals must look a certain way. Cultural and social stigmas made it even harder for me to open up. On bad days, even minor setbacks felt like the world was collapsing around me.
The lack of understanding from others was one of the hardest aspects of my journey. When you look fine on the outside, people don’t realize the severity of your internal struggles. Hearing stereotypes like “schizo” or dismissive comments like “cheer up” only deepened the pain. What truly helped me was finding reassurance in knowing I wasn’t alone—there were others with similar diagnoses who understood my experience.
My two rescue dogs became a source of comfort. They needed me, and their joy upon seeing me reminded me of my importance, depression no matter how bad my day was. A solid support system of family and friends was also crucial. Over time, I began to appreciate how far I had come. Reflecting on my journey helped me recognize my resilience.
One thing that made a difference was when my friends treated me the same as they did before my struggles began. That version of me—the happy, laid-back person—I aspired to become again. I didn’t want people to tiptoe around me or treat me like I was fragile. I just wanted to be seen as normal, with a little extra sensitivity toward my struggles.
Looking back, I wish I had known how much I would grow and learn through this journey. Therapy turned out to be immensely helpful, and I gained so much from the process. I also learned that it’s possible to meet people who love and accept me for who I am, including my mental illness. I wasn’t as alone as I thought, and there were organizations and individuals willing to help.
Surprisingly, I don’t regret my mental health struggles because they shaped who I am today. I’ve discovered how supportive people can be once you open up. While it’s natural to fear sharing your condition, I’ve found that most people respond with understanding. If they don’t, their response speaks louder about them than it does about you.
Take each day as it comes—if that feels overwhelming, break it down further. depression Sometimes, focusing on just five minutes at a time can make all the difference.
It’s important to ask for help, even when it feels daunting. You’ll likely find more support than you expect. Everyone carries scars, whether physical or emotional, and they’re a testament to survival.
