This week is Mental Health Awareness Week at HC Western Ontario. Join the conversation with #HCWesternTalks.
A year ago I wrote my very first Her Campus article entitled “What It’s Really Like To Have Depression & Anxiety In University”. While the article was raw and honest, I can’t help but to read it back and question who the girl was that wrote it. I don’t say that because I paid some kid to write it for me – no. I say that because the person I was when I wrote it is nowhere close to the person I am now.
They say that people can’t change… but that’s a load of bull. The girl I was at the beginning of last year wasn’t eating. She wasn’t getting out of bed. She wasn’t being a good friend. She wasn’t being proactive. She cried constantly. She overreacted and never stopped worrying. She pretended to be okay, but she had given up on herself. The girl I was, for lack of a better term, was broken, and she was sick.
I walked on eggshells, and the people around me did as well. I wasn’t me – I was some scary version of a girl I didn’t want to be, but couldn’t seem to stop being.
I wrote that article as an attempt to heal, to finally admit to my friends and loved ones that there was something going on with me. The article was liberating and rewarding on such an emotional level. I made it to the National page and I had classmates, family friends, and even strangers inboxing me about how happy they were that someone finally got it – and someone finally said it.
While I will never forget the impact of that article, this new one, as I write to you now, tells a much different story.
This article is about the girl that actually got help, the girl that actually took her life back into her own hands, into her own control, and decided she wasn’t done yet.
Never have I been prouder of myself… for the battle I have not won, but have currently conquered for the time being. But that’s the thing people forget. Just because I’m better, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, doesn’t mean it will never happen again. Yes, it’s easier to forget, I do it all the time, but I know I have to keep working on it. I know that if I want to continue feeling this strong and happy, I can’t just forget. I must think of it as I’m in remission, doing everything I can to stay healthy so I don’t put myself at risk.
My life changed when I first decided to stop being selfish. I had to stop worrying about what was going on in my own head, and be in-tune with what was going on with my friends and family as they watched me suffer. I was hurting them – badly. I thought I had been the only one feeling pain, but I was very wrong. The sadness, and even anger they expressed, was my biggest motivator. I decided to get help when I lost some of the most important people in my life; I had to prove to everyone that I could be better. And eventually, through therapy, I also came to realize that I really wanted to prove to myself that I could better – and I was determined that I would be.
In no way, shape, or form was this process easy. Difficult discussions with parents, breakdowns, hospital stays, and therapy visits are far from glamorous. But I feel that it is more important for me to provide a sense of hope, rather than to discuss those dark experiences anymore, or again. Those suffering or those who know someone suffering need this hope – that although I haven’t, and will never beat my illness, I have sought treatment, I have continued to heal and move on. Most importantly, I have my life back. It may feel impossible right now… but I promise you, in the words of my mother, “It is so possible.”