Building My Life Worth Living

“It’s important that we share our experiences with other people. Your story will heal you, and your story will heal somebody else. When you tell your story you free yourself, and you give other people permission to acknowledge their story as well.” — Iyanla Vanzant

About seven months ago I wanted to kill myself. Like not in the way people make jokes like ‘wow that test made me want to kill myself but I had multiple plans and letters and I thought I had nothing to live for kind of suicidal. I had felt that way for years. I viewed it as a fact. I was in therapy but did not explain to my therapist the extent of it because I didn’t want to be hospitalized, and that would mean people would know about it. I felt extreme shame and embarrassment of talking about my depression. I thought I was weak for not killing myself, and weak for being unable to be happy. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

My mental health conditions are genetic and environmental. I knew all the signs and yet I still waited longer than I should have to get help. Part of the reason people get so bad before seeking help is because there is so much shame and stigma around mental illness. You are not weak for needing help. It’s okay to not be okay.

I tried to wait out my depression for years in hope that it would just go away. Instead it got worse. I was extremely underweight. I was too tired to eat, I had no energy or motivation to. I thought I didn’t deserve to eat. I was too anxious and nauseous.

I had migraines that reached down my neck and shoulders and felt like my brain was going to explode. I had severe chest pain from anxiety, back pain, joint and muscle pain. I was constantly extremely exhausted. I couldn’t sleep and could barely do work. I couldn’t focus or remember things, and it became difficult to move and speak. If someone was telling me something to write down, I couldn’t even mentally process it to write it down with the paper and pencil right in front of me.

My mental state was so bad that my former closest friend stopped talking to me and to this day I still don’t have an explanation why. My illnesses made me vulnerable to dependency and it made my depression worse because I felt abandoned by the only person I thought I could confide in and trust. At my lowest point, I told my therapist that I didn’t even have the energy to want to get better. It was consuming me and I didn’t think there was any of myself left. I thought there was no end to it and I was giving up.

But here I am now. I am mentally healthier than I ever thought was possible for myself. I am so excited for my own future. It’s not magic; it takes finding the right therapist and support and learning coping strategies and maybe finding the right medication or patient program. For me, it took leaving an unhealthy friendship, focusing on what I enjoy doing, getting a dog, spending more time with supportive people, and just talking more about my mental illness. I am so lucky to have been able to have access to the resources I have, and I know many people do not. That is why we need to work to end the stigma and fear surrounding mental illness to make treatment more accessible.

It took a lot of painfully honest and difficult conversations. I know it feels impossible and scary and endless. Every day is still not perfect. I know there will still be bad days, but I know what skills to use and what to do and tell myself, and how to handle my cognitive distortions. There are so many people willing to support you fiercely and strongly and I am eternally grateful for those that have stuck with me through my worst depressive episodes. So now here I am building my life worth living. And I know you can too.