Personal Stories

This year I have celebrated my 30th birthday. 

This is a milestone I did not think I would make it to.  I have struggled with depression, anxiety and posttraumatic stress disorder for as long as I can remember. 

I grew up in an abusive household. Physically abused by my father, sexually abused by my step father. I don’t recall a time of my life that I had felt safe. As I got older, I turned to drugs and reckless behavior. I was raped and beaten and left for dead by two strange men when I was 19. For months, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I lost most of my friendships. I barely functioned. I survived two failed suicide attempts, thinking my best option was to opt out. 

Time has a funny way of passing along even when you think it won’t.  I never stopped seeking treatment. I tried lots of different medications, holistic and pharmaceutical cures, meditation, yoga, therapy. Oh god the therapy.

Eventually, I got a job working in a group home for troubled teens. Each of these girls had stories as bad as or worse than mine. Abuse. Rape. Suicide attempts. I focused my time on outreach, telling them my story, and how far I had come since. Each day that inched along was a small victory. Each bad day, good day, every second in therapy, every pill, every attempt at meditation that ended in a puddle of tears on the floor. 

I dedicated myself to myself. I wrote bad poetry. Screamed in the car while I was driving. Painted. Exercised—not fanatically, I am still pretty chubby, and proud of it.

Surviving mental illness requires grit. If you’re seeking help, answers, support, or just reading this to see another’s experience so you don’t feel alone, you are taking one of millions of small steps that lead you into healing. Don’t mask your feelings, let them come. Feel that rage, feel that pain. You have to feel it to release it to heal. You can’t rush it, you can’t hide it and you can’t give up. 

I turned 30, I am a mother of two, I have a great job helping people, a wonderful husband, and even though there are days that are still bad, it’s ok. It’s OK to talk, it’s OK to hurt and it’s OK to get better. 

 

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