Hello, my name is Angel. I was searching for a way to advocate my mental health and the seriousness of mental illness, when NAMI caught my eye. I stumbled across this and here I am. I would say that I am recovering, but I know that my depression still lingers along. I take medication on a daily, therapy each week. I write to tell you about the blessing that was brought upon me.

In the beginning, I thought the sadness and despair would end, but it just got worse. I remember wearing a mask to hide the sadness, to hide the fear of being judged. And every time I would runaway from the problem, it would come back harder than ever. I could not understand what was going on or what was happening. All I wanted was to get out of the dark, to escape the demons that were taunting me every single day.

I have had a long, tiring journey to get where I am, about four years, to be exact. Although I am in the process of recovery, I have made an impact and immense about of progress through the years I have been under the chains of my illness. It took me a long time to understand my mental illness and realize that it was okay to have such feelings and emotions. I would regret and hate myself because I believed I did not deserve to feel this way, I constantly thought that if I wanted to be happy, I could, but I was wrong.

I was diagnosed with depression in my first to second year of high school, but as I look back, it all begun in seventh grade. I remember the first peak of my depression over me. I do not remember what happened or how it was triggered, but I suddenly felt sad all the time. My mother thought it was a phase, my family thought I was overreacting. “There is nothing to be sad about.” They said, and I agreed because there actually wasn’t anything to be sad about. I remember feeling stressed out about school because I was a perfectionist. I needed everything to be perfect, whether it was school or home, everything I did needed to be perfected, and if it wasn’t, I was be disappointed in myself, to the point where I felt worthless. So, I did what I thought was the logical thing and pushed the feelings aside… but that made things turn for the worse.

I had constant thoughts about who I was and why I was not good enough for myself, my family, and others. I questioned why my father left before I was born and concluded that it was because I was a mistake and a failure. This led me into a deeper depression and my anxiety continued to eat me alive. I learned that I had major depression and anxiety and that I needed to get help or else I would end up doing something I regretted. At first, I refused, I thought that getting help would label me as “crazy” or “mental” so I denied and denied. After a while, I came to the realization that help was the most important thing for me. I am not going to tell you that it was an easy road to recovery because it was not. I faced even more suicidal thoughts, mental hospital admissions, self-harm urges, attempting to overdose, isolating from everyone I cared for and loved, I was a complete mess because my illness told me ignorant and untruthful comments.

I remember the realization of light striking me as I sat on a lumpy chair in a mental hospital for trying to commit suicide for the second time. I remember looking among the teenagers around me and thinking, “They are just like me. We are all the same.” They were no different from my friends at school and they acted like normal teenagers. So what if we were in a mental hospital? We are all the same, we just have some issues to overcome. And at the end of the day, we are the stronger ones, because we are achieving the strength and persistence to stay alive even when we do not want to. That was the day I understood. That was the day I knew I wanted to become an advocate for people like us. Because even in the midst of a group therapy session, our leading therapist decided to shun us and not appreciate us the way she should have. I remember speaking out and saying, “You have no right to just brush us off like that. These people are amazing. Within the week, I have known all of you… I am so glad and happy to have been here because you are all so strong and so courageous. You are all so amazing. You are all so strong. I am so proud of all of you even though I spent such a small amount of time with you.”

Now, four years later, I write this to you, to share my story. The reason why I titled this “blessed with an illness” is because it truly is a blessing. Because of the things I have been through, I have grown stronger, wiser, and a better person than I was years ago. It was not easy, but it was worth it. Sure I do have my depressing moments, but everyone does. I just have learned to be accepting of my mental illness and take care of myself and others around me. I want you to know that I am on my way to the road of advocacy and becoming a clinical psychologist. As we speak, I am writing my senior thesis on the importance of mental health and why we should stop the stigmas to them. I am more than passionate about being an advocate for mental health because of the experiences I have been through. I hope you know that you are not alone, you are loved, and I care about you. Much love goes out to you. I know you can do this. I know you are strong. Do not let anyone ruin your spark. You were born into this world for a reason and I know you are destined for greater things. It may look bleak and it will be a tough ride, but you can and will achieve more than you will ever imagine. I believe in you.

Thank you for taking your time to read this.