But what my story lacks in glamour, it makes up for in hope. I still struggle on occasion, but the days where I have to work hard to find a reason to get out of bed are now fewer and farther between. Recently, a new but very dear friend asked me what made me decide to leave school and pursue recovery. I answered that I did not choose to leave school all those years ago; it was my only option if I wanted to survive. I had reached the point where I couldn’t live my life anymore and I was left with the option of changing my life or leaving it. I was lucky in that I had the support to make the very hard choice to continue living, and to work towards creating a healthy life for myself. The same friend asked me: when did I feel as if my life finally had gone back to normal? My answer? “I’ll let you know when that happens.”
Today, I have a new normal. In this new version of “normal” I am much nicer to myself. I try to listen to my body when it tells me I need to slow down. I ask for help when I need it. I try to set manageable goals for myself. I have learned to say “no.” Most importantly, I have learned to look in the mirror, look myself straight in the eye, and say, “you are worth the life you have ahead of you and it is going to be a good one.”
This is my story, and as you read over it you are likely to realize that as it progresses, the writing becomes much less lyrical. As I was in the process of writing this article, I realized that what was important was not how my sentences sounded, but that they were truthful. This desire for truth and to tell my story comes from having kept it mostly secret for too long because I was embarrassed. Now I am telling it in all its unglamorous truth because I know I have no reason to be ashamed.
This is my story, but there are so many other stories of those struggling. They are similar to mine, overlap with mine in parts and differ in others, or are vastly different altogether. What is most heartbreaking is that a lot of these stories do not have the same happy ending that mine does. No matter their ending, each of these stories matter, and they all mean we need to work to end the stigma surrounding mental illness. If you or someone you know is struggling, please ask for help. Please. I have seen too many people struggle already, and that is just the people within my circle of contact. There are so many others. It really won’t seem like it in the blackest depths of your sadness, but there are ways to work through what you are dealing with. There is no shame in not being okay.
Be good to each other. Always. To those of you (you know who you are) who were good to me (far more so than I could ever have imagined myself worthy of) when I was in my darkest place . . . I could write all my life and never have the words to thank you enough. You saved me.