My name is Kathryn Knill and in less than a week I will be 44 years old. I look like any “normal” 43 year old. A glance in my direction and no whistles or alarms would go off…

actually I am very good at smiling and selling you that I have got my shit together. I can be very convincing. My dad’s famous line goes through my head often, “ Don’t bullshit a bullshitter” Profound, I know. But I was raised by two of the best of them. Both of my parents lived their own nightmare growing up and that spilled over to my siblings and I. My sister and I both took the brunt of my dad’s rage and inability to control his temper. We never knew what mood he was going to be in. His mood would swing from laughing at a joke to hitting me so hard in the head I couldn’t see straight. I got hit a lot. I needed to protect my sister and my mom. I was the youngest but they were scared and something in me would rise up like a warrior in battle when my dad would start in on one of them and I had to let him know that he was wrong. The sexual abuse was directed more towards my sister. For years I shut out the things I remembered seeing him do to her and the things he did to me because I was told by him and other family members that I was wrong, I was crazy, “Kate’s always been very dramatic” “She will do anything for attention”. I learned to keep my mouth shut and not to trust myself, my instincts, my memories and most importantly I learned that I was not safe. I don’t ever remember feeling safe or loved. I was told I was stupid, worthless, ugly and fat from a very young age. I learned not to cry. We were hit harder if we cried. If we got hurt and we cried we got hit so I was a pro at stuffing my feelings by the time I was 5 years old. I remember skinning all the skin off the backs of my knuckles of both hands and walking into my house, bleeding but I held my hands out straight in front of me and didn’t make a sound.
You won’t be surprised when I tell you I have struggled with severe depression and anxiety for the majority of my life. My dad went to prison when I was 9 and my mom began her affairs with the prominent and much older married men in our small town. My sister had run away and so I was alone the majority of the time. My mom was working and then out and I was left to figure out how to live life. I always felt different. I felt small and insignificant. I didn’t want to be noticed. I was sad. I cried in the bathroom of my elementary school most days. The first time I ever said anything to an adult was in 4th grade. My teacher found me crying and I finally told her that my dad was in prison and my mom was never home, etc…my mother was called and told her that I was “just being difficult” (my mom’s favorite words for me) and that I “ was just trying to get attention” . I never talked about it again to an adult. I had suicide attempts throughout my teen years and got involved with drugs and alcohol. My history with alcohol had begun much earlier when I was 6 years old and had found my dad’s Bailey’s in the fridge. My mother eventually moved to another town with her married man and I was told to leave. I was 15. I never went home again. I met my ex-husband when I was 16 and bought everything he had to sell hook, line and sinker. Throughout our 17 years together we had 2 beautiful kids, several separations, many attempts at reconciliation. I was diagnosed by this time with severe depression, mood disorder, and anxiety. Our relationship was abusive, he had multiple affairs and was a sex addict. I was trying to hold it together and the harder I tried to convince myself that I could get through a few more years, for the kids sake, the worse the situation became and the more it affected my children. My son was now having severe depression and I was at a loss as to what I should do. I was reaching out for help and tried counseling for the kids but nothing was working. I kept asking the county to help me to get him in treatment before I lost him. After a couple of years of this the county finally agreed to help us get him into treatment. First,they said, I had to give them custody of the kids so they would be able to get him the help he needed. I was extremely hesitant but I wanted him to get the help he needed and was reassured that it was a technicality and I would still have all my rights. Before the ink was dry both of my children were taken and I, not my ex husband, had no rights what so ever. I couldn’t see them or talk to them for months. The kids and I had never been separated. I was the parent that raised them and we were very close. I had gone to the county asking for help, I was honest about my mental illness and my using , I had an eating disorder as well and I was getting clean and attending groups. My children were traumatized and this put my son on a path of destruction that has led him to near death several times. While we all have been working to rebuild our lives and love and support one another, I have been clean for years and happily remarried to someone that has shown me what love is. I am fortunate. I recently had to take a leave from my job due to mental health and medical reasons. I had never talked about my mental health issues with an employer before. I feel the shame and judgement that is associated with having any sort of mental illness diagnosis but I felt strongly about needing to speak my truth after so many years of living in the shadows . I was met with what I thought was support and I would be able to have the time I needed to take care of myself. Instead I receive a call from HR saying that my job has been posted and my benefits canceled. I will have to re apply for a position if any are available when my leave is over and may or may not be chosen but am not terminated so I can’t receive unemployment and the company can be in the clear because they aren’t terminating me when I am on medical leave for a documented disability. How can I be employed with this company if they, without my knowledge, stop my health insurance ,knowing that I am seeking help for mental health issues and have multiple appointments set up with doctors at the Mayo Clinic for my medical care and I have to apply for a position because mine isn’t available? I explained in a meeting I had with the HR rep and my direct supervisor how concerned I was about losing my job due to taking a leave and how difficult it was for me to talk about my depression and anxiety and was told that I did the right thing and I had nothing to worry about. How can people who have mental illness ever feel comfortable when the result of being honest and seeking help is punishment. every time I have asked for help in my life I have been punished. Suicide is on the rise and I completely understand why. We’re told to talk about our illness, our addictions, which often mental illness and addiction go hand in hand, yet we’re met with judgement and shame. My mental illness tells me I’m not enough, that I’m worthless and nobody could ever see anything of any value in me on a regular basis. The actions that my employer took backs that up. People with mental illness and addiction need to be fought for and spoken up for. Sure, you can put up a billboard but those are words. What good are they without action? How many lives have to be lost? How many more families have to go through cycles of abuse and neglect because the parents couldn’t get the help they needed? Are we not important enough? Do we have to wait for a child or family member of someone in Congress or other “important” area before something is done?