Someone Who Looks Like Me, Part II

Have you ever looked out a dirty widow through which you could hardly see, then wiped it clean and enjoyed the view? That's the best way I can describe what this new regimen did for me.

Throughout this journey, I’ve learned that you need to prioritize having a good treatment team, cultivating honest friendships and practicing self-care and acceptance.

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.