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I started this blog a few weeks ago and I debated whether or not to post it....but it's time to finish it now.

Last month, my daughter's marching band had their first exhibition. It was a beautiful day. The children did an awesome job. I was proud. Afterwards, I took her out to dinner. Just me and my oldest girl. As I was driving home, she chatted excitedly about the day, jokes that had been told, things to be done....

A song came on the radio; it's about suicide awareness and my daughter said this to me:
"This is everyone at schools favorite song and a lot of people told me they can relate to it and it makes me so sad. They should have a class that everyone has to go to that talks about stuff like this. Not optional, EVERYONE. Like, I know it's important for us to know math and English and history but if we had a class where we could talk about stuff then maybe everyone would realize we are going through the same things and maybe we would all be nicer to each other and people wouldn't feel so alone."

She said it so passionately. I thought it was a very prophetic thing for a 13 year old to say. "I completely agree with you." People with mental health issues do feel stigmatized and it's such an unfortunate thing. We talk about stuff like this a lot in my house because I REALLY struggled with mental health issues during my adolescence.

I'm not ashamed about it, I have often spoke of my appreciation for Zoloft but it's still a hard thing to talk about. I suffered from severe depression and crippling anxiety from 12-18. I can't exactly pinpoint what triggered it. Puberty? Middle School? My abandonment issues? I just remember feeling so intensely sad and empty EVERY SINGLE DAY of my life. I felt like I was alone in the world, like I was on the outside looking in, like I didn't belong. Not to my friends, definitely not to my family. Not to anyone. I remember thinking, I don't belong on this planet. Who's idea was it to put me here? I was weird, I was not a normal human being, I was not like everyone else and I hated myself for it.

My anxiety was horrible. Every test, every social interaction was like sandpaper on my skin, knots in my stomach. Everyone started talking about my future - I needed to be a certain way, get good grades, be a good girl because otherwise I was compromising my future. FUCK! That's heavy for a 14 year old. I was just trying to get through to next Tuesday and I felt like every step and every decision I made would haunt me forever. Everyone else's future would surely be brighter and better than my own - my anxiety fed me so many lies. I vacillated between overwhelming sadness and feeling completely numb. I started cutting at 12 and I was a cutter for years. I liked to slice side of my feet, because the cuts were easy to hide. I was really ashamed about it and that made it worse.

I had terrible panic attacks. I remember my first panic attack. April 20, 1999 - as I sat on the coffee table in my living room watching the news about the Columbine school shootings. The heat rushed and tingled up my neck, into my face, my heart raced and the walls seemed to close in. I thought I was going to die. I sobbed after. It was only the first of many. I would have up to 5 panic attacks a day after that. Probably for about a year. I got used to them, the feeling of dread as one was coming and I just let them wash over me. I did not want to live like this. I never had a plan but I spent many nights wishing that I would go to sleep and not wake up in the morning. I wasted YEARS of my life wishing that I was dead.

I didn't want anyone to know. I was convinced that my parents would send me to a home for crazy kids. That if anyone knew, it would confirm that I was IN FACT a weirdo. I suffered. I suffered needlessly.

I did have some lifelines, however. I had a few good friends who made me laugh and were there for me. Some teachers whose kind words and faith in my abilities numbed some of my emptiness. Marching band saved my life. When I was there, I belonged to something. It took up so much of my time that it was a wonderful distraction. I was almost happy sometimes. My husband, who embraced my weirdness and didn't run away from my crazy emotions. These are things that kept me going. In spite of the darkness and emptiness there was a voice inside for me that told me to Keep going, some day things are going to be better. Was it God, my guardian angel, hope? I wasn't fully convinced but I did keep moving forward.

Depression is like standing in a room full of people and screaming for help at the top of your lungs and no one can hear you. It's like going through life with a snake wrapped around you - slowly squeezing the life out of your body. It's like being a balloon that someone let go of that is floating away from the earth.

I left home and moved to Oklahoma 10 days before I was supposed to graduate from high school. I didn't care about walking in graduation. I didn't care about anything. I gave the school the forwarding address to send my diploma and I left. I was going to get married that month.

A few days after I had gotten out there, I dropped my husband off at work (we only had one car) and I spent the day unpacking boxes and setting things up in our tiny apartment. I went to pick him up from work that afternoon and I parked in the lot and waited. It was hot and dreary that day. It began to rain. I listened to the rain beat down on the roof and I thought it would be refreshing to feel to the rain on my body. It was a hot day.

I got out of the car and leaned against the hood and let it rain on me. The rain was warm and it was like I could feel every drop on my skin. In that moment a switch flipped inside of me. This is what it's like to be alive. I laughed.

My husband ran out to the car and I got in the passengers seat. I was dripping wet and laughing. "What are you doing ? Everyone in the office told me you were standing out in the rain and now they think you are crazy." I smiled at him. "NO. I'm standing in the rain because I'm NOT crazy," I said excited. He was like:
                                 
That was the day that I decided that I wanted to live.

It was the strangest thing. Suddenly, there was quiet inside of myself. It was like the fog lifted and I saw everything for the first time. I would look at the sky and think The sky is so blue! Has it always been this blue? I was living and it was the most wonderful, beautiful feeling in the world. I wanted to do all the things - smell the flowers, feel the grass on my toes, laugh in public, travel the world..... I had so much lost time to make up for.

Even to this day, I will sometimes cry and be overcome with emotion because I am so GRATEFUL to be alive and I never in my wildest dreams imagined that my life could be this good.

I don't think you ever recover from depression. Depression is like herpes, once you have it, it's yours for life. I did experience mild depression after the death of my grandfather, after we moved to Indianapolis and in 2014 due to stressful work circumstances. I was concerned when I was pregnant because I knew I was high risk for postpartum depression but I did great. Motherhood healed me in SO many ways.

I do still have anxiety sometimes but VERY infrequently and I do have 1-2 panic attacks a year. They do not interfere with my life and I have done well.

I will always be at risk and I know that. There are times when I can feel it creeping in. My depression and anxiety is like an old friend that you don't talk to anymore that shows up at your house every few years and is like, "Hey girl! It's been a while. Let's have coffee and talk about what a horrible person you are and all your life regrets; then we can make a list of everything that can go wrong!" And I'm like,

                         
I choose happiness. That means that I take care of myself. If I need to nap, I nap. If I am stressed, I'll let my house be dirty and I get a massage. I watch movies and shows that make me laugh. I don't spend time with people who are toxic and make me feel less than. I don't read upsetting news articles. I listen to music that I can dance to in my living room. I do things and surround myself with people that make me feel good. If I need medication, I take medication.

I still think I am not like everyone else. I am a weirdo. I'm a strange bird, that cannot be denied. But you know what? That's what makes me ME. I've accepted who I am and I love myself. When people don't like me I think, I can't believe you are willing to miss out on this awesomeness! 

Because I am so open with my own struggles with my mental health issues, other people confide in me as well. There are SO many people out there JUST LIKE me. I think the silver lining is that my experience has definitely made me a better person, it's made me kinder and I judge NO ONE because you don't know what other people are going through. Being a human is hard. We are all on this journey together. It is easy for no one, some of us just do a better job of hiding our demons.

Because I struggled so much in my adolescence, I am hyper vigilant about my children. There is definitely a family history so they are at risk. We all see a therapist periodically and I try to tell them all the things that I wish someone would have told me. Lots of cliches. Things you'll hear at my house:
"Lot's of kids your age feel that way."
"Being a human is hard."
"Be kind, you never know what other people are going through."
"You have made it through every hard day you've ever hard."
"It's a bad day, not a bad life."
"You are not alone."
"You are smart and beautiful and mom and dad love you no matter what."

I speak these things like a mantra. One of my daughter's friends came over a few weeks ago and we were all chatting in the car and her friend was talking about how she feels like she doesn't fit in. My daughter was like, "ALL of us feel like that. You are smart and an awesome person and everyone loves you." I smiled. Maybe she is listening. Maybe the kids will be alright.

This week started as usual. It was busy. I picked up my daughter on Tuesday from marching band and then we attended a band boosters meeting. We live the band and gymnastics life at all times.

We didn't get home until late. We were finishing up dinner and my daughter's phone pinged. I glanced over at her and I, as long as I live, will never forget the look of brokenness on her face. She told me that one of the marching band kids committed suicide.

She sobbed, friends called and they sobbed together. She took a hot shower and then we laid in bed together. She was so heart broken. We talked about life and we cried together. "All you can do is pray and be kind," I told her. It was getting late, she had the PSAT to take in the morning. She was emotionally exhausted. I tucked her in and kissed the top of her head.

I went to bed too. A few minutes later she walked in. "Can I sleep with you guys tonight?" she asked. "Of course," I told her. She climbed in between my husband and I and rested her head on my shoulder and fell right asleep. I watched her sleep for a long time that night.

This world is not fair to these teenagers. It's so hard to grow up today. The academic pressure is suffocating. Social media is so damaging because everyone shows the good parts of their lives, the parts they want others to see. It makes kids feel isolated, lonely and left out. They are forced to grow up so quickly. My sweet little girl has experienced so much loss this year.

But, if there is one thing that I have learned in my life, it is that it goes on. The world may be permanently changed and we may be broken but the sun will come up every day, we will breathe in and breathe out and the living will go on living. We too will get through this.

If you are struggling with mental illness, know that you are not alone. Know that it's okay to not be okay. Tell someone. People care more than you will ever know.