Now, when I look back at everything that happened, I realized I'm a more empathetic person.
I think I am a lot more mindful of my actions than I was before.
Sharing my story has given me a purpose in this world.
I'm continuing to learn all the time. It’s a journey of healing and I’m glad I am on it.
I was in the midst of an eating disorder, and no one seemed to be able to see a thing.
I have accepted my mental illness does not define me.
I can finally say I’m happy to be here.
I’m much stronger than my mind tries to trick me into believing.
I’ve learned to love myself unconditionally.
I think of my diagnosis as a best friend.
I’ve lost everything and everyone over and over.
Everything in my psyche and soul said, “ENOUGH.”
All of us have had struggles so we can all feel safe sharing without judgment.
I was afraid to be alone; I didn’t feel strong enough to be alone.
I can’t be depressed while I help someone else.
Little did I know that this was the painful beginning of becoming a new person.
I’m grateful to finally be calm and grounded in my body and in my mind.
A beautiful, repeatable, healing process.
What does a child have to be depressed about at eight years old?
Everybody saw what was happening, yet nobody said anything.
I knew something was wrong when I started waking up before 6 am full of energy.
Life was really good. Until it wasn’t.