Mental health is a topic in our society that might be thought of as taboo. It is a topic that needs to be heard but isn’t. Many people have seen mental health be a topic on the ever popular BuzzFeed during Mental Health Week, or through Project Semicolon, but these are just two examples of getting the word out. In my experience it can be hard to relate to something that you have never experienced and depression is one of those things and this is my story about depression and the future.

In my family, honesty is the best policy and my parents always emphasized to my two siblings and I to come to them with anything, good bad or indifferent. The first time I did this when in tenth grade, I was in the library on the school computer and sent an email to my mom that said in the subject line “we need to talk" and said I felt depressed. At this point, I didn’t know anything about mental health. I knew I didn’t care about anything. I felt like I was going through the motions saying “I’m fine” and “Ya I’m happy” with a big grin on my face even though that was not at all how I felt. I fell into a routine of going to school without caring how I looked, the same sweatshirt, sneakers, hair may or may not be brushed, and gaining weight. I went through my classes, came home and went to sleep. I felt judged even though no one said anything and felt like no one cared even though the signs were there; surely if people saw the differences and cared they would say something right?

I’m shaking as I write this but I think its an important part of this story. Fast forward two years, I’m 16. I thought about ending it, and took 13 pills of Tylenol and took them a few at a time over maybe 30 minutes. A few months later, I took 60 units of insulin, which is a dangerous amount that can send a diabetic dangerously low. Reflecting on these low moments, I didn’t want to end my life but felt that I had no control and didn’t know what to do. A year later and I’m 17, last day of the first semester of senior year, after an argument at school I’m angry, confused, and cut for the first time. I felt fine and resumed class with no problem. I finally felt OK. This was the first and last time I would do this.

Fast forward another two years and here I am 18, a Georgia State University freshman. I am in therapy once a week and yes I take meds. I do both of these to get back to the person I want to be: vibrant, happy, and going with the flow. It has been hard and I’ve had periods of regression but all of these are moments that make up my life and hopefully another two years from now I can say that’s all behind me and part of this thing called life. I have a strong support system of friends and family. I have an arrow tattoo that reminds me that to go forward, you have to go back first and in the shaft I have three words to remind me of what my goal is: to be content with who I am and my circumstances, to have harmony, and to have a sense of adventure.

Everyone’s life story with mental health is different. Taking meds is not taboo or a sign of weakness, its helping that person through a hard time. “You wouldn’t deny a diabetic insulin right?” Don’t judge, help that friend or family member, and respect and love that person with all your heart.