April 25, 1995

At 15 years old, I wrote those words out in a letter to my parents. I didn’t understand what I felt; I didn’t understand why I felt that way; I knew I had no reason to feel that way, but I did, and it scared me.

I know for a fact whenever I have felt that low, I never wanted to die; but it was hard to see a reason to live. I was always hoping for someone to give me a glimpse of belief that I mattered because something inside me had convinced me that I did not.

Thank God, those glimpses always came because I am here today, and I know I matter.

I am one of those people that see a purpose in everything, yet at times I haven’t seen one in myself.

I believe everything happens for a reason, yet at times everything becomes so foggy that I forget what I believe.

I always try to see beyond what just my eyes can see. I dig deep in my soul, searching for a better understanding of myself and others.

For a while, I felt I was on top of it, and then, one day, it came creeping back in.

I must not have sealed all the cracks, and this time it convinces me that I don’t deserve a healthy relationship, that nothing lasts forever, that it’s only a matter of time before everything falls apart like it always does.

My battle with depression has been lifelong. It’s also a battle with myself.

Depression has become a part of me. Yet, it does not define me. It can be so scary at times, yet it has allowed me to experience empathy for others in a way that goes deep into my soul.

I’m aware of it; my family is aware of it. When I feel low, I tell them. They all come through in their way to support me.

We all have our battles; we all are growing at a different speed. If we don’t learn from the past, we will continue to relive the same mistakes. If we don’t learn from one another, we are bound to stump our growth and repeat unhealthy ways of experiencing life.

You may have grown up thinking Mental health wasn’t real or just called people crazy. I know I grew up thinking that. I always joke and tell people I’m crazy, but it’s not a joke. It’s a defense mechanism. I say it so that when you say it, your words have no power.

But it is real, and if you’ve never experienced it or aren’t aware enough to even recognize it in yourself or others, seek more information, get educated, tell others you’re learning to be able to help end the stigma.

And for those of us living with any mental illness, let’s be more transparent with one another. We’re so busy pointing out our differences that we forget just how much we have in common and that we are not that different at all.

Decide to be more authentic, more transparent, together we can end the stigma.