In the fall of 2016, I hit my lowest mental point I ever have without even knowing it.

That summer my PTSD had been triggered, I couch surfed until the start of the fall semester (mind you, this was my first summer staying out in LA), and in each place I stayed that summer I encountered some sort of stress relating to roommates or feeling unsettled in the space. Long story short, it was a very tumultuous summer, filled with lots of stress that I subconsciously swept under the rug.

When the fall semester started, many of my closest friends were abroad, I felt unincluded in my sorority, was having trouble with one of my roommates, and I was wildly unhappy with my acting training and progress since starting college.

What started out as an itch to travel turned into the realization that I needed to make a change. My parents encouraged me to take the semester off if I needed to, but I decided to stay, solely because I had gotten into a guest directed main stage show. Though the show was an invaluable experience I will cherish forever, I fully acknowledge that I 100% should have taken that semester off.

By staying at that school, I sacrificed my mental health so severely that it negatively affected my physical health.

Over the summer I had developed a consistent exercise routine because of additional free time, but during the semester it became a coping mechanism. I used exercise to regiment and schedule my day so that I felt in control and had things I had to do at certain times, which would hopefully make the days go by faster. Unfortunately, that is not so healthy when you compromise sleep for exercise and are not eating well to supplement that energy burned.

I have IBS, and stress absolutely worsens those symptoms. You can guess the next part. The intense level of stress I was under during the semester caused severe stomachaches and nausea. I began fearing certain foods were the causes of that discomfort and pain. I slowly but surely began using exercise and food so strictly to manage stress., which tainted the good and beneficial qualities of these two things for me.

When I finally left over winter break, I met with my gastroenterologist, who told me I had lost a significant amount of weight. I was shocked – to say the least – when I learned I would have been hospitalized, had my potassium levels been any lower. At that same time, my Zayda (Yiddish for Grandfather) passed away. He was my first best friend, and though his death was probably one of the most painful things I've experienced to date, I took it as his telling me that that was his time, not mine. I had to get better.

In January I was set to go to the National Theatre Institute, but I had to gain weight while there. That program saved me, literally and figuratively. NTI completely rejuvenated and solidified my artistic persona, and the 24/7 (literally) training schedule forced me to release control over my food, my exercise, and it taught me that in order to do what I love, I need to be fueled properly to do so.

I have now since regained all the weight and am very physically healthy; however, I am still working on my mental health. I do not believe a person can be truly healthy unless they are mentally sound. Since transferring to USC, my mental (and physical) health has never been better, but that does not mean I still don't have strides to make.

I am extremely happy to say, though, that I finally have taken the initiative I've been promising myself I'd take this past May, which, ironically or not, is Mental Health Awareness Month. I've started doing yoga again, I've found a therapist, and I am learning to be more shamelessly open about my mental health struggles.

I know how hard it is to talk about mental health because I still feel ashamed of my coping mechanisms; however, I accept that they are behaviors I've done, and that is just part of my story. I grew up with an alcoholic mother and have PTSD and anxiety from it, and now I have body dysmorphia from developing a negative relationship to food and exercise for a time. I am mending my relationship to these things in the world that should only enhance and support lives positively, gently, and with love, acceptance, and flexibility.

I am mending my relationship to my body, and I am learning to honor that, as well as the person inside of it. I hope you do too, shamelessly and without fear or reluctance.

Mental Health Awareness Month may (haha, May…) only come once a year, but I want to challenge myself – and hopefully you – to make it a daily awareness. Make a conscious effort to be kind to yourself, be kind to others, and live with compassion. And do not be afraid to reach out for help, even if that's by starting with simply talking with one person you trust because believe me, talking and being honest becomes easier and easier, and pretty soon you'll be fearless in your pursuit of creating a support network.

And that, you deserve.