Personal Stories

This story is my attempt to communicate how critical it is to not only provide adequate mental health services to everyone, but to end stigma as well.

Living with a mental health condition can have major setbacks, especially in relationships. These relationships can include friendships, family and romantic relationships.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder my Junior year in college. I was failing out and my family thought I should get checked for any learning disorders and psychological issues. What we found was that I was living with bipolar II.

I can’t really explain it, but after my accident, something just clicked inside of me. After that day, everything was different. Suddenly, I had this will to live—something I never remembered ever having.

I wish I could tell them that when I say I don’t feel well, it’s not just a headache or stuffy nose. I wish they knew not feeling well meant I haven’t left my house in a week or haven’t brushed my hair for three days.

We are all fighting something and I hope you continue fighting. There is no shame in needing someone in your corner for this fight, and there’s no shame in admitting you cannot do it alone.

Shame kept me silent for a long time, until the walls that concealed my secret finally crumbled under the weight it carried.

I suffered from suicidal depression for years. I didn’t ever give up. I kept searching for a “cure” or at least relief.

Their view of me had changed from the girl who was so nice and sweet, to the girl whose dad deals with mental health issues. A girl who needed to be treated differently because of it.

Having depression is like being mugged by five different people: hopelessness, sadness, anxiety, self-loathing and demoralization. Once depression had me, I became its prisoner.