To the victims of mental illness,

You are not alone.

You’ve probably heard that saying about 678 times, but I needed to tell you again because I know it helped me when I felt like the crazy emotional girl. And it’s true, whether that makes you feel better or just bitter disbelief.

It’s only been three years since I was officially diagnosed with biochemical anxiety, clinical depression, attention deficit disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder. I know I’ve got a long way to go before I can think “normally,” but I also know that I am immensely happier than I was three years ago. The reason I want to tell you these things is because I want you to know that it can stop, you do have the power to stop it, and it will not be like this for the rest of your life. As long as you do your part.

I am far from being fully knowledgeable in this area of life, and I’m not trying to say that I know how to fix your problems. I just want to share things that have worked for me in the past.

Step One: Accept it.

A little over a year ago, I wrote a post about how much I dreaded leaving high school. In the original version of the post, I included all of the mental disorders I’ve been fighting, but the version online now is a “clean” version. It’s a “safe” version, as recommended by my parents and their friends, who didn’t think it was a good idea to let employers know that I struggle with mental illness.

The fact that they told me to do that is understandable; I know that they’re just looking out for me because, in reality, mental illness does not have a great social stigma. The fact that I actually edited it and took out the ugly truth is what bothers me most. I contributed to that stigma. I reinforced it.

Mental illness does not define me, but it is part of me. It’s made me who I am, which is not something that I am ashamed of (anymore, at least). As cliché as it sounds, every anxiety attack and bout of depression made me just a little bit stronger and more ready to conquer the next round. It made me reach out and grab amazing things that I never would have cared about otherwise.

Before I went to therapy, I always thought of it as something that only “weak” people needed. I imagined the stereotypical room with a chair, a couch and a woman wearing all brown, talking in a monotone voice about “how that makes me feel.” During the first few months of real therapy, which involves none of those wretched things, I was still ashamed of it. I dreaded going into a room where the whole focus was on me and my feelings, where I had to acknowledge that I had problems. It took me a long time to admit these things to friends, and I hated my family knowing most of all. Because a lot of the time they were part of the issue, and they never realized that.

Step Two: No More “Should.”

I completely acknowledge that we need to be grateful for the things we have, and how someone else’s circumstances will always be less fortunate. However, one of the most important parts of my recovery was realizing that I needed to stop thinking there were certain ways I “should” feel or be. There were multiple times in therapy where I would say that “I know I shouldn’t be upset…,” or that “I feel like I should do this…,” but logic doesn’t apply to feelings, and that’s okay. Emotions are a confusing thing, but they are always valid. Therapy is what taught me why I feel those things that don’t seem “normal.”

Step Three: Talk About It.

You may be one of those people, like me, who doesn’t want to tell the whole world that they’re struggling. The reason I hate it so much is because I have this deeply rooted fear of seeming like a negative person. No matter how many times people tell me that I can always talk to them about anything, I will never believe that they would be okay with listening to me complain about my life. There’s a disturbing aspect of society that makes us think we have to appear to be happy all the time. That’s impossible! And everyone know that. I do, especially.

Don’t be like me. Don’t hold in your feelings because you don’t want to be the Debbie Downer of the friend group. There’s a difference between complaining and venting, and I think everyone knows what that is. Even if you have to vent frequently about whatever’s going on in your head, there are people out there who genuinely care. They won’t think you’re just negative about everything. If you can’t find any of those people in your personal life, give me a shout. I refuse to let anyone feel uncomfortable talking about whatever they’re going through, because you’re not all-knowing. That means you can’t handle everything by yourself. Other people have the tools that can help you. Seek them out.

Step Four: Find Something to Fall Back On.

This one is the reason I haven’t been deeply depressed for almost a year. Personally, I found God. He doesn’t have to be what you fall back on, but that’s what’s worked best for me. For a while in high school, I fell back on music, literature and photography. Most of all, I fell back on Camp Stella Maris. I knew I would always have the friends I made there. But now that I’ve accepted Jesus, it is significantly stronger than any worldly things I’ve fallen back on before. It gives me a reason to keep pushing forward.

Maybe there’s something else that gives you that motivation to keep going, and that’s okay. But you need to find one. You need to have something that’s always going to be there for you when you are at your lowest points. You can’t live without a reason to always want to be alive. I don’t want to miss out on the rest of my life because of what Jesus gives me.

You are so strong. I really mean that. You’ve made it up to this point in life without giving up. Life is hard, REALLY hard, but you’re sticking it out to discover why it’s all worth it. I’m so proud of you.

xoxo ars