I will NOT be ashamed to ask for help.

Almost one year ago today was when I finally plucked up the courage to see my doctor about my depression and constant anxiety. I’ve had a high level of anxiety since I was a kid, so I never realized it was abnormal until a few years ago when a family member commented on my neurotic behavior.

For a long time I dealt with paralyzing fear and anxiety and felt that my existence was pointless. I soon began to believe the best solution was to just end my life right then as I saw no reason for it to continue. Uplifting, I know. But I couldn’t do it because of my fear of failing. If I failed, there were too many possible outcomes and I would have to actually deal with my problems or worse end up hospitalized; no way could I do that, then I would actually have to admit that there was a problem in the first place. Because of my own pertinacity I refused to seek help and because of the depression I felt that no one would want to help me anyway, because after all, my existence was pointless. In a way, my own anxiety, that I felt caused all my problems, had also saved me from harming myself. Oh, the irony of mental illness!

I struggled with ways I could heal myself, without having to tell my mom that I was suicidal, an idea that she at that time she simply would not be able to handle.  In addition I was still in denial that there could be something “abnormal” about me, after all I was supposed to be my parent’s perfect little girl. I looked up tips on the Internet, tried my best to think positive, and attempted to be productive, but I still felt so alone and worthless. Nothing seemed to help.

Finally I told my mom I was struggling. It was practically unbearable to finally admit that I needed help and it made me feel weak and ashamed. I felt like I was losing a battle against my own mind. I had succumbed to the pressure and given in. I had failed. But then, somehow I also felt relief. I didn’t have to go at it alone anymore. My doctors were able to help me in ways that I couldn’t help myself. As a survivor I can say that getting help from my family and my doctor was the best and hardest thing I have ever done. 

Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the United States affecting 18% of our population. Unfortunately only one third of sufferers get help. Getting help was the best choice I have ever made to deal with my mental illness and it deeply saddens me that so many are dealing with these issues on their own. I have struggled, but learned to accept that mental illness is NOTHING to be ashamed of and to ask for help is a sign of bravery and strength rather than weakness. I hope by sharing my story I can inspire others suffering to ask for help as well and know that they are not alone.