In 2020, the world stopped. Along with everything bigger happening, my world crumbled. Something was happening; I couldn’t think straight, I didn’t want to get up in the morning, and I couldn’t stop shaking every morning when riding to school. I was only 8, in 3rd grade. I’m not sure what it was about the lockdown that got to me, but for a long time, I wasn’t the same person I was before. This is a story I’ve never shared with anyone, but I hope it will help me and many others.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, about 1 in 3 teenagers in the United States struggles with an anxiety disorder at some point. The CDC reports that nearly 20% of teens experience depression before reaching adulthood. The challenges brought on by the pandemic have made things even harder for many young people, causing rates of anxiety and depression to rise even higher in recent years.
For years, I carried a heavy weight inside me. I spent days and nights feeling lost, confused, and alone, even when I was surrounded by people who cared about me. I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling, and I was scared to ask for help. As a kid, I thought something was wrong with me, and that made me keep everything bottled up.
As time passed, I grew older, but the feelings didn’t go away. I tried to hide them, to pretend that everything was fine. But inside, I was still struggling. The anxiety and sadness followed me everywhere – to school, to family gatherings, even to the places I once loved. I felt trapped in my own mind.
After five years of struggling, at the age of 13, I reached my lowest point. I tried to take my own life. It was a moment of darkness that I never want to return to, but it was also the turning point in my story. My family found out what I was going through, and for the first time, I realized I wasn’t as alone as I thought. They helped me find support, and slowly, I started to open up about my feelings.
One of the biggest changes in my journey was starting therapy. At first, I was nervous and unsure, but it helped me understand my feelings and gave me tools to cope. Through therapy, I realized that I didn’t have to do it all by myself. There was strength in reaching out and letting others in. I started to lean on my family and friends more, even though it was hard; I am still working towards allowing them to support me when I need it most.
Healing didn’t happen overnight. There are still hard days, and I still experience moments of feeling overwhelmed. However, I’ve learned that it’s okay to ask for help, and that talking about what you’re going through can make all the difference. I discovered that there are people who truly want to listen and support me, and that my struggles didn’t make me weak; they made me stronger.
Now, I share my story in the hope that it will help someone else who feels the way I did. If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. Reaching out can be scary, but it can also be the first step toward healing. My journey isn’t over, but I’m learning to be kinder to myself and to find hope again. One day at a time.
