“There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” 

I grew up thinking I was broken. Something was wrong with the product; the packaging was cracked and probably should’ve been returned. By the time I was seventeen years old, I had been hospitalized three times for issues related to addiction and depression, I had was misdiagnosed and placed on the wrong meds, and then I dropped out of high school. The future was not looking bright.

To say that approaching adulthood, with no education and no real prospects while struggling with addiction and mental illness was challenging would be the understatement of the century. There I was, like so many others, feeling forgotten and staring out into life with zero coping skills.

Of course, I stumbled.

Before I dropped out, I was working at a local dollar store so I stayed there deciding this would be my career path. The work was easy; I could get loaded and still do a good job, in fact, they promoted me to a manager.

Throughout my time working at the dollar store, I quit taking my meds and opted for self-medicating. Each night, I was going to bed with a bottle of rum and sleeping pills. It didn’t take long for this behavior to catch up to me, and it destroyed any chance I had of cultivating positive states of mental health.

The next thing I knew my mother had asked me to leave the house. I had nowhere to go. I called up a friend, and she spoke to her mother. After a few back and forth conversations, it was decided that I could stay with them – probably not the best idea.

One day, after a long twelve-hour shift, I broke down. I was lying in the guest room of my friend’s house drowning my sorrows. I decided to reach out to my father hoping that considering the circumstances he might allow me to stay with him until I could get back on my feet.

I’ll never forget the conversation it’s burned into my memory. I explained the situation to my father, and he listened intently. Then there was silence. “Dad, you there?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m here. You can’t come here,” and he hung up the phone.

Later, my father would tell me that that was one of the hardest moments in his life. As a father myself, I can’t imagine what it must have been like – I don’t want to have to picture the situation.

Regardless of the difficulties, this moment was a turning point in my life, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. I was falling down a dark hole. I hit bottom and, it shook me hard. The next morning, after the phone call, I realized that if I were going to get better than I would have to change from the inside out.

That change began by getting really interested in why I thought I was broken, by investigating all the little cracks and finding that I wasn’t defective – I was human.

We all have damaged little pieces of ourselves that we don’t like and that we don’t want to show to others. This damage isn’t a defect; this is beauty in its raw form.

If there’s one thing, I could say to my younger self it would be to get interested in yourself and explore where the light is coming in. Don’t stuff away feelings and emotions but allow them to arise and investigate them…with a counselor.

There is light on the other side of the darkness there is hope. I’m now thirty-six. I’m married with three beautiful children. I even got my GED and went to college – receiving a master’s degree. There is hope for all of us, I believe it!