itsdaniriley

(Undergraduate Graduation from Merrimack College with my parents and brothers, May 2016)

Since 1949, Mental Health Awareness has been observed in the month of May.

After doing a little bit of research and exploring on the lovely internet I have learned that the Mental Health America organization started the observance of this awareness month. I also learned that every year they come up with a different theme on which the various mental health awareness activities in May are based on! This May it is #4Mind4Body.

The #4Mind4Body Challenge challenges people to make small changes daily-both physically and mentally- and by doing so creating huge changes and gains for their overall health and well-being. Click here to follow along with the daily challenges!

With all of that being said, I want to share now a bit of my personal struggle with my mental health and mental illness…

It’s true that you never think something will happen to you until it does.

Flashback to my senior year of college, 2015-2016. I was at Merrimack College. It was my last year of undergrad, of being a student athlete, of rooming with my best friend who I had lived with all throughout 4 years there, of being surrounded my friends and teammates 24/7. Looking back it seemed like a lot of wheels were in motion. My life was on its way to changing and I wasn’t ready.

I still remember the first night I felt myself break down. Like really break down. It wasn’t my first attack but I feel like it was when the sleeping giant that was anxiety had been awakened. I had been dealing with personal and family issues, as every one does, for some time and after a lot of time had gone by I finally started to learn how to bury my feelings and my emotions to the point where I was able to ignore those specific ones really, really well (DO NOT DO THIS-LET THEM OUT.) That was until that first night.

After that night I was OK. I mean I still would have some episodes where I’d get really upset, but I could handle it. I was fine. It was all normal. I didn’t have an issue.

I went on believing I didn’t have an issue for quite awhile. My episodes began getting worse and they progressed into full on anxiety attacks. I honestly can’t even remember the inbetween. I began projecting my irrational thoughts and fears onto those who I loved the most. I was damaging my relationships and I was devastated about it. But I couldn’t stop. My fears would come out, I would project them, I’d upset people, and then I would be upset I did what I did.  But how could I keep these feelings inside? They were eating me up. It was a huge cycle. I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of these irrational fears and thoughts-this constant anxiety. I knew it was impacting the people who loved me and were being there for me. I felt terrible. I couldn’t figure out how to break the anxiety cycle. I felt trapped, afraid, alone and like I was a poison.

A lot of changes happened that year. There were a lot of ends. Having to deal with the resurfacing of all of the emotions I buried made dealing with the death of my grandfather, the ending of my athletic career, the end of college more difficult. Constantly worrying about how much of a nuisance my anxiety was, the fact that I couldn’t break the cycle, and the desire to feel “normal” led me to fall into a pretty bad depression.

After some time and having conversations with my loved ones I began to realize that maybe I just needed a little bit of help. I tried getting help at our campus counseling center, but I only went 2 or 3 times before I decided it wasn’t working (which I learned wasn’t long enough.) I went on dealing with this “new” me at school, graduated, and eventually went home for the summer.

Things just got worse. That summer I would sleep my days away. Even when I was around people I wasn’t present. I had crying spells multiple times a day. I would get offended and anxious any time one of my family members would try talking to me about my behavior and mental state. I felt trapped and in denial.

Eventually, my mom took it into her own hands to find me some help. I went to my first psychologist with her. It was alright…I saw two different ones before leaving for school. Both were just alright. I didn’t seem to be getting any better but I became more open to seeing one regularly.

When it was time for me to leave for school I could tell a lot of people were worried, I was going to a brand new school and place. Usually, this wouldn’t be an issue but in the state I was in I can understand now how it could of been nerve-wracking. I think the only reason my parents felt comfortable enough with me going was because they knew my brothers were going to be there. And thank God they were.

As soon as I got there my mom helped to find a psychologist I could see regularly. I began meeting with her twice a week at first. After a few weeks of meeting she told me. Very nonchalantly at the end of one of our sessions she told me that I did in fact have an anxiety disorder and that I was also going through something called “Major Depression.” She assured me that she believed I was going to get better when I asked her. Hearing this from a licensed professional felt like coming up for a breath after being trapped under water in a current.

That year was hard though. The depression got a lot worse before it got better. I will go more into depth about my experiences in following posts. I didn’t think I would make it out of that year. Honestly. But going to my therapist, receiving advice and medication from my physician, and the support from all of my loved ones got me through.

But another extremely important factor in my healing and journey was acceptance. My therapist helped me a LOT with this. Acceptance that I was in fact dealing with these mental illnesses. Acceptance that they were illnesses, and that I was NOT crazy. Acceptance that I would get better. I received all of this help from others and I wouldn’t have been able to get through without them, but I would not have been able to start the process without finding it within myself to accept.

In the end it was up to me to show up to my appointments every week. Sure it took a lot of encouraging, some days more than others. But it is in reaching out for help and accepting it that I began to process what the hell was going on with me. Where I began to realize that I am not some insane crazy girl. I didn’t realize how significant all of these changes were until seeing someone and having them tell me it all made sense that I felt this way.

Since receiving help I have come a long, long way. No, I am not the person I used to be but I will never be that person again. I used to say that I wanted to just be her again. That I wanted to just go back. I used to cry saying those things. But the truth is, I don’t wish that anymore. I have learned so much about life, myself, and about faith. I have hard days and sometimes I still have bad weeks. Yea. But they are fewer and further in between and it is OK. I am a better person today because of the trials I have faced.

I can’t wait to share more about my journey through anxiety and depression with you. I hope that in speaking out about my experience with mental illness I can encourage others to speak out and ask for help. I know it can be hard..to be honest it took me about a week to finally post this.But I finally did because I know what it feels like to think you’re alone. And I want to use my experiences with these illnesses to help others. I want to help get rid of the stigma that surrounds these diseases.

And lastly, BIG shoutout to my loved ones AND to the man upstairs for never giving up on me and always carrying me when I thought I couldn’t go any longer!

God is GOOD!