Personal Stories

My parents were instrumental in helping me shed the deeply-internalized fear that my diagnosis would limit my future. They reminded me that if I took care of myself, my career would follow.

As I look back on my situation and other stories of incarceration, I hope to educate law enforcement and the public on a better approach to mental health crisis response. The bottom line? People in crisis do not belong in jail.

I finally stopped fighting him. He stayed by my side, loved me and supported me.

For a long time, I blamed myself for his death. How did I not know that he was suffering? Why didn't I call him more?

I used my pain as motivation — I educated myself on mental illness and began to advocate for myself and my treatment.

The struggles we’ve faced in the past simply make us stronger — and we all deserve to have happy and beautiful lives.

After recognizing how bad things had become, I knew it was time to get serious about my own mental health.

Bit by bit, I peeled away the glue that bound my sense of self with these thoughts. But it took me some time to accept why this all happened to me. It had a name: OCD.

Like any mental illness, PTSD is not one-size-fits all, requiring some trial and error to find the best path for recovery. I can tell you, though, that working on even one aspect of your trauma can make a vast difference in your life.

Lately, I have chosen to believe in myself and focused on the triumphs — my ability to speak up when I am not well, to identify and honor both "good" and "bad" days. Knowing I am not alone and finding strength in those who fight the same fight is empowering.