It’s not discussed easily among peers and family. Mental illness is something that people tend to ignore or push off as “they just want attention”. Others look at those who suffer and dismiss their trauma, falsely believing they made it all up. I’ll admit: there are people who fake being depressed or anxiety-ridden, but they still have valid stressors in their life.

I’m here to tell my story. One to be heart touching and true to its last letter. When I was a freshman in high school, all was well. Fall semester went by easily. Nothing was wrong inside my head and nothing hurt. That is until January came around. Still being in color guard, I had a ton of free time to do whatever I pleased after the school day was done.

However, as many young girls our age, I did not always consider future consequences when making choices. I went against my parent’s wishes to see a man three years older than me. His name was David. I genuinely trusted him to be a good person. After all, he never did anything that struck me as wrong. He did struggle with depression… (foreshadowed with smiles and laughter). Had I have known how much evil he held inside, I never would have fallen for him.

I left my after school meeting and took an Uber to his home. Nothing was wrong. The home was quiet as he played video games. About twenty minutes passed, and I asked him to spend some time with me. The video game paused. He sat there, his back to me as I heard him sigh heavily.

I looked around, feeling the tension rise, and decided it was best if I left. As soon as I stepped foot in front of him, David grabbed me. He tossed me into his room like a rag doll, and slammed his door shut so hard it broke the frame, and I was stuck in his room with him. I was scared and tried to pull the door open, my purse flailing around as I desperately tried to free myself.

It wasn’t too soon after that he grabbed the back of my shirt, spun me around, and slammed my head into his bed frame. I won’t continue with the frightening details. But after, when he was asleep, I crawled out through his window, ran down the street, and took an Uber back to school. My innocence and a sliver of my dignity were stolen. Thus the beginning of my everlasting depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

Eventually I stopped being able to sleep, gaining the ability to be an insomniac. Eating was not an option as I always felt sick, so I stayed glued to my bed. I began sinking further into the never ending well of depression and made questionable choices, bad ones. I began to lie, steal, manipulate close-ones, and even hurt my own family.

For a while it was dismissed as me just being a teenager.  After all, I never spoke out. No one really ever suspected anything, except my mom.

I only grew worse. I would sneak out, drink, smoke, vape, do all the things my parents warned me against.  I was an untreated, mentally ill, female teenager.

This knowing and being able to identify someone who is struggling with their existence, is so important. It’s okay to talk about the pain with people that care about you. Young adults need to know they are not alone in their struggles.  Reach out to those showing signs of depression or abuse. Be kind to those because you never know what they are going through.

Take the time to stop and look at your peers, ask them if they are okay, if they need help. I cannot stress this enough. There are so many people who struggle with depression and more. Please. Reach out to those you see who need help. You could just save a life.