From Broken to Blooming: My Journey

As I begin writing this, my stomach turns, thinking about how low I had gotten…  

Growing up was difficult. Many things contributed to the anxiety and depression that would continue into my adulthood.  

My feelings embarrassed me. *Why am I like this? Why am I different from everyone else? Why can't I be normal?* These were all thoughts I had growing up. Mental health wasn’t something that was talked about. There was definitely a stigma.  

I experienced many lows throughout my childhood, and when I got to college, I finally decided it was time to try something. I tried therapy and medication. We couldn't find the right dose or medication, and some of them caused scary thoughts. I eventually decided it was best to stop experimenting with medication due to how I was feeling.  

Then came COVID.  

Then came a wedding that brought a significant amount of stress.  

Then came pregnancy.  

Then came… postpartum.  

This is when I reached the lowest low of my depression and anxiety. Here is my story.  

I remember coming home from the hospital. I had a sinking feeling inside of me. I didn’t think much of it. I just felt... sad. But it grew. It grew as fast as a fire doused in gasoline. I felt so alone. My husband, Ryan, was working a ton, and I was at home with our son.  

The scary thoughts whirled in my head like a wicked dust storm. *I'm a mom now... I should be able to handle this by myself, right? What is wrong with me? I am a terrible mother. I am a terrible wife. I am a terrible person. My body is ugly. These stretch marks are disgusting—I should have prevented them with creams and oils. I should do my messy hair, but I'm so tired. These are the same sweatpants I've had on for three days. Did I eat today? Did I really just eat a whole pizza by myself? I fell asleep with my baby in my arms by accident. What if he had died? I don't deserve to be a mother. I don't deserve to be... here. I don't deserve to be... alive. *  

I remember calling my husband. I remember my exact words to him:  

*"Remember how I told you I'm at my breaking point? I'm not at my breaking point anymore… I am broken. I don't want to be here."*  

I remember saying "I don't want to be here" because I couldn't get myself to say out loud what I was really thinking: "I don't want to be alive."

I got into therapy, and after a few tries, I finally found a therapist I clicked with so well. I am on medication for my anxiety and depression. I have researched and learned so much about mental health.  

**MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MATTERS.**  

If only I had known I wasn't crazy. If only I had known I WASN'T ALONE. If only I had known that mental health struggles are not something to be ashamed of. If only…  

If only my story can help someone else. If only my story can make someone feel like they are not alone. If only sharing my story can help break the stigma. If only mental health awareness can spread so people know there is nothing to be ashamed of. If only we can all come together and be there for each other.  

**If only…**