I got married for the second time at 38 to a very talented man, who teaches his craft to local students. We both came into the relationship with depression and anxiety, and bonded over our love of music, books, film, and an old story of a kiss we shared in high school. We opened a business together and developed a beautiful community of students and their families. This is not one of those stories that was a fairytale from the beginning and one day turned dark. We shared so many normal days, like most families, and there were beautiful days, too, but there was also an undercurrent of abuse that was there from the beginning. I learned years later in therapy that what I experienced was emotional abuse, which is a form of domestic violence. On the worst day, I also experienced sexual assault, although I wouldn’t fully feel what happened to me emotionally or physically until years later.

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7 years ago I was plagued with an overwhelming reign of fear, confusion, anxiety and depression, to the point of suicide. I now know that my demise was the onset of schizophrenia. After several attempts with suicide and hospital visits I was finally referred to a mental health physician. He evaluated me with any insight and information I could give him. Unfortunately I was too paranoid to put all my trust in the doctors. I thought if I admitted all my ailments I would get locked away for good. 

It took 4 years for me to get diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, mean while for the next four years living in unimaginable fear of everything. I was originally diagnosed as depressed. I can’t begin to explain the depression fear and confusion within these next 4 years but things kept getting worse and I didn’t care anymore if they locked me away. In desperation i broke down and finally admitted all my symptoms and relief was at my doorstep. 

My doctor was able to put me on the right medication. Don’t get me wrong it took a lot of work on both of our parts to get the right dosage of meds but perseverance paid off. Don’t give up on the meds because you don’t feel totally right or they cause side effects. Eventually these wear off and you’ll feel like you again.

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Sometimes the trauma we experience is not definable in terms of scientific research or assessments. Sometimes depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues are never actually diagnosed but somehow those of us who experience these issues deal with them on a daily basis and find inspiration and hope in our communities and inside ourselves.  

I, like many others, have experienced multiple traumas in my life including rape, abandonment, intimate partner violence, a diagnosis of a “terminal” disease, homelessness, and drug addiction.  Yet, somehow, I have made it through these experiences and found help along the way.  Not from the system of care (as many of us know, the system of care is not really designed to “care”), I found help in the support and love from others who have also experienced similar things.  It is their courage and compassion that gave me the strength to keep moving forward.  It is their determination and insight that helped me work through the pain and fear.  

I am forever grateful for those who guided me along the way.  Your support will never be forgotten.  Your support helped me to not only find a new way to live but to follow my passion and help others.  Even though I have been dragged through the mud, I know my worth and value has not changed.  Today, I am working on a PhD. and hope that the work I do, the community bridges from research and academia to the real world I build, can help inspire others.  May you find love and peace in your hearts

I have had severe depression and anxiety for 30yrs. On Nov. 14th I checked myself into a mental health hospital and was there for a week due to thoughts of suicide and not sleeping. I was itching and had never been that bad. My 21 yr. old daughter stole my debit card went to my banks atm and withdrew $250 dollars from my bank account and then a few days later totaled her vehicle. She is not living at home anymore. She is staying with her aunt. She has has problems all her life and has no sense of self worth. I have always tried to encourage her. She says all I do is put her down. I ask her to go to therapy with me or alone but she says no.I have been out of hospital 1 week and I feel like like I’m unraveling and can’t get this depression and anxiety under control. I am on [name of medications] 3 times a day. I’m going to my psyhiciatrist today again. I hope there is other meds that will help. Gotta go!
Will write more later. I’m lost!

Is it ok to not be ok?

I have to tell myself at times that it is ok to not be ok. When the depression comes at times, instead of fighting it, I stop. Cry it out. When I get anxious, I do what I need to do to calm down. I have coping skills and my support system to help me managed my mental health. Although times are good, but the times that are not so good comes to surface. I get angry with not only others, but myself as well some times. No one understands me, but those that goes through the same thing. Only us that has been diagnosed with a mental health disorder understand each other. Opening up is not always easy as people think. Telling others that I am not ok can bring a lot of questions that we are not wanting to anxiety. Afraid to call in to work again because your anxiety is high. They’re aware of your mental anxiety, you tell them that you have been anxious because of the crowded room they put you in. Plus they add more people, and still expect you to tough it out. Is it really to be ok when its not ok? I understand shutting down, go into that comfortable place alone, and not talking about what is wrong. I promise I know that place all so well. Whether ok or not ok. It is ok! You are not alone at all. We may never meet, but we all are fighting together. We all have a voice for each other! When one can’t speak, I promise you we speak for each other! 😇😀

I’m a 19 year old college student who suffers from anxiety and depression. Reading that sentence probably didn’t stand out to anyone, but I’m here to speak about my unique journey with mental health. The first 14 or so years of my life were good. In fact, my childhood was great. I had your average family with a mom, dad, and a younger brother who would support me through everything and give me the resources to have a high quality of life. None of that changed as I transitioned into high school… but still, my brain suffered.

From a young age, I had very high expectations for myself. I constantly worried about not being good enough, even though I was a fantastic student. The pressure became almost unbearable as I began to take AP courses. Not only that, but I did many extracurricular activities that I barely gave myself time to breathe. I would spiral into anxiety attacks and sometimes panic attacks and not sleep for whole nights just for one assignment. I thought this was the life of a normal high school student until my parents showed concern for my mental and physical health.

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My journey with mental health has not been an easy one. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in 2011. I was constantly having panic attacks at bight time which prevented me from sleeping. I finally decided that it was time to get the help I very much so needed. I did, and every since then I can better manage my mental health with the tools that my therapist has given me. There is light and hope even after the darkest of storms. Keep fighting ❤️

There’s so much that I could truly say, but would it make sense whenever I said it, probably not. But it’s always worth a shot right. Truth is, even whenever it seems like its not the right thing to do, don’t be afraid to take a chance. That’s what I live by. What doesn’t kill you… Makes you stronger.

My name is Zachary Mallory. I am a Mental Health and Suicide Prevention Advocate from Kansas City, Missouri. Born and raised. I have never been the type of person to open up and talk about myself, but I feel like it’s truly that time to do so.

Growing up, I guess you could say I had a normal childhood, but what’s Normal anyways? Throughout school, it was like a putrid hell for me. I never knew what to expect whenever I was walking down the hallways. Was I going to make it to class on time, or am I going to get thrown down the stairs, yet again. It was like a reoccurring nightmare that just wouldn’t go away, no matter what I tried.

Coming home to my parents was my biggest challenge. Not because they didn’t accept me, but because I didn’t know how to tell them what was wrong with me and it depressed me even more because I was basically living a lie. I knew that I had to tell someone, but how. I came home after school one day, and it was after being pushed off the bus and having the bus doors closed right in my face. The bus was leaving and I was late getting there because I got held up in the hallway by a high school jock and was forced to do something that I never imagined in life I would ever do. I won’t go into detail about what happened, just know it was very much embarrassing, in the school hallway of all places.

He threatened me and told me that if I didn’t do it, he was going to run around to everyone and tell them that I am a “queer”.

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I live continuously with the uncertainty of my destiny but I strive everyday to change the outcome of the stigma attached to my disorders. BPD, ADHD, major depression and generalized anxiety. I could play the victim and blame others for my outcome but that was only an outline or precursor of who I was to become, I’ve had to learn and establish coping skills to tame the beast. Do I lose control, absolutely! Am I still alive, obviously. The problem with being a high functioning BPD is I am overly self aware of my triggers and constantly screaming inside STOP STOP what you are doing this is insane and unacceptable. Anyone who knows has BPD knows that, that inner voice is not enough to stop what you are doing and go back to the rational way of thinking instead of the emotional.

Just like the hulk, he is always angry. The constant turmoil of keeping the hulk under wraps can be in itself exhausting. No normal person will fully understand the struggle but I want to do my best to explain both sides of the spectrum. The hulk is a coping mechanism, a tool we use to either force real abandonment or test the limits to its last string. If someone leaves because we force their hand it’s just a prophecy we’ve forced to come true and if someone stays and endures are wrath we BPDs need to take responsibility that we are no longer hurting ourselves anymore  but destroying someone else’s psyche in the process. That’s not acceptable and has to be addressed.

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