For awhile I have wanted to write this, but I was too afraid too. I decided to because people around are sharing their stories and I admire them for it because they bring awareness and say to others struggling that they aren’t alone. I hope that mine will do the same, this is my story with mental health.
I have changed both physically and mentally throughout the almost twenty years of my life. I learned to grow and sometimes even laugh at some of the mistakes I have made. I can laugh at a mistake, but also be caught up in it and overthink it. I was an odd kid in middle school, I’ll admit it. After I did something stupid for attention, when I was thirteen, I instantly regretted it. People would talk about me and what I did, but they didn’t know that I really regretted it. I couldn’t control what they were saying about me, but there was something that I could control. That is when my eating disorder and obsession with my weight developed.

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I am a survivor of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, an eating disorder, self harm, and suicide. Although I am a survivor my fight is not over. Far too often people think that a mental illness can be cured and that is far from the truth. Back in October of 2010 I felt as if my life had fallen apart and I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital for the first time. I never really knew that these types of hospitals existed or that the things I was struggling with were common among people my age. I was 16 at the time and I truly felt so alone. From October 2010- May 2013 I was admitted into 6 different psychiatric hospitals. I was admitted so many times that I cannot even give you a number. When I was struggling through those years in my life I honestly did not see myself having a future. I stopped planning my future and I did not care about the long term effects that my choices had on my life because I did not foresee myself living through it all.

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My name is Lindsay Wheeler and I have struggled with mental illness for my entire life. I’ve found empowerment in being a thought leader, writing about my experience with depression, bipolar, and an eating disorder, and advocating for others with similar challenges.  Besides the work I do personally, my decision to be transparent and write about my fight with depression inspired the founding of a mental illness project at my alma mater. I continue to write and share everyday for my followers and broadening community.

Suicide and mental illness are rampant, and issues few people address head on. I allowed mental illness to cripple me in silence for too many years. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I began to write about it publicly and in detail. Exposing the most fragile pieces of myself to a world that has historically rejected these sorts of expressions was an exhilarating feat in which stigma had its chance prevail. But stigma is weak at its core and I conquered it head on. Advocacy is my life now.

The world fears women who push the envelope; those who say “it’s okay to be vulnerable.” Weaving humor and light into moments of discomfort or anguish can help to transform those mired in the chains of history. Sarah Silverman didn’t make history by sitting in the back and keeping quiet. Mental illness isn’t defeat; it is a sometimes-treacherous path to self- realization. Beside me stand so very many others in the same heavy shoes, wondering how they got here. I write for each and every person who has called or written to tell me they found hope in the context of a dialog I started. It is they who have given me the courage to share my secrets, how I find light in dark places, and be free.

My writing is relatable to those who struggle with mental illness personally, as well as those who don’t. This is my gift, and I know I’d be wasting it if I didn’t shoot to spread it as much as possible. The response I’ve received for my writing has been tremendous and I’m in the process of writing a book. In the past, I simply wasn’t ready to live my life the way I do now, but today I am proud to stand as a resource for anybody who may need help.

I come from a long line of abuse. Mental, emotional, and sexual. It has taken years of therapy to realize none of it is my fault. I live with bipolar, anxiety, PTSD, depression, OCD, and an eating disorder. I’m terrified for my life because of this, however; I have a wonderful support system that helps me get through the rough patches. It’s important to take baby steps and allow myself time to heal, confront, or survive this thing that is my life. Such a wondrous journey. Don’t give in to that which harms you. A bit hypocritical I know because of my eating disorder. But this is a fight worth fighting. The light at the end of the tunnel isn’t always a train.

**Trigger Warning**

Hi. I used to be really mentally ill. I have had panic attacks, the worst case of obsessive compulsive disorder, bi-polar, anxiety and depression. I have struggled with substance abuse.  I have struggled with self-harm and suicide. One year I tried to kill myself multiple times. 

Treatment:

Coping- I have learned several coping skills. They really help.

Recovery- I was inpatient at a mental hospital. It really helped.

Therapy- I usually see my therapist every other week. It really helps.

Medication- My medication really helps too.

I hate the stigma!

I woke up alive thanks to two paramedics when I was 17 and had attempted suicide.

In the years that followed, I struggled with depression and anxiety, often letting my illnesses run my life.

I was hospitalized frequently, on disability, drifting from place to place and job to job. I had a second suicide attempt. I was in long-term care at a nursing home. While there I thought about what life would be like if i just went on living in that nursing home. I felt hopeless and trapped. It was there that I committed to improving my life.

I took my medication diligently to stabilize my mood. I studied DBT to cope better. I tried EMDR and, while I still have anxiety problems, I stopped having panic attacks. I did several courses of ECT. That was helpful but I did lose a lot of memories. (Many of them have returned.) I started going to a weekly NAMI Connection support group.

I am 35 now. I live on my own and i am employed full-time at a job that I love. The last five years have been the best of my life, and they keep getting better. I am so glad to be alive and I am proud of myself. I may never get to see those paramedics again, but I want them to know how grateful I am. I wish I could show them my life and say, “See all this? You made this possible!”

I thought my life was hopeless and it’s turning out to be a grand adventure. If you feel your life will never get better and you could think things will stay like they are forever, remember my example. Change is possible. Recovery is real.

I carry a heavy burden. Rejection, fear, depression, anxiety…it’s the accumulation of all sorts of negative life events that have caused me so much heartbreak and made me feel like nothing in life could ever make me happy. When I was in high school, I was the shy girl…I felt like people were always saying bad things about me, and that absolutely destroyed my self esteem. Although looking back, I realize that I had so many people who cared about me, and I was so much more well-liked than I ever could have imagined.

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I am someone who has lost people to suicide and almost lost my self too. I have always been told to suck it up until I spoke out about my abuse. I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. Ending the stigma is beyond important to me because if it wasn’t so hard for people to talk about, maybe my teammate, classmate, and grandmother would still be here. I know they were hurting, but I only knew when it was too late. Ending the stigma would save lives, the way speaking up saved me. I have been clean from self harm for almost a year now and have gotten the help I need. There is always hope, even when you feel as if it is the end. Your story isn’t over. I am living proof that it gets better. 

And I knew I wasn’t right 

So I planned on going that Friday night 

And I knew I wasn’t okay

Making it the perfect place for me to stay 

See, for most, a mental hospital isn’t a choice 

It’s one of those things where you are left without a voice 

Brought there suddenly against your will

Then before you know it, you are given a bunch of random pills 

But for me, it was where I was supposed to be

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