I had my first panic attack when I was in elementary school. I was already struggling with ADHD which was a side effect of brain surgery. But Anxiety was different. It had no warnings. I couldn’t control it no matter how hard I tried. I cried and felt afraid going to places that had large crowds of people, even if it was somewhere I wanted to go, including my basketball games. Because I never knew when I would be stricken with Anxiety, I had a hard time focusing. I often overthought everything which made things worse. This made it difficult to know how to ask for help. The one person who knew how to talk to me whenever I was overwhelmed was my Mom. My Mom’s genuine support and her teaching me how to advocate for myself have been pivotal in my Mental Health stability and compassion for others. She was my Mental Health Peer Advocate who taught me how to advocate for mental health awareness. My Mom is a Licensed Minister who writes and speaks about the importance of mental health awareness on social media platforms, in the community, and within the inner city Outreach Ministry. By serving alongside my Mother and dealing with Anxiety on a personal level, I grew to understand that Mental Illness does not discriminate. The Black community, just like other communities of people, suffered from mental and emotional stress, along with a lack of resources and awareness. I believe that mental health advocacy should be taught with inclusion, and compassion and made available for all people. By growing up in church and volunteering in the community, I learned the importance of trusting God while letting go of religious traditions. This meant being open to Therapy. Unfortunately within the Black community, sometimes culture and religious traditions place healing on a person’s ability to attend church, be strong, and salvation alone. These concepts often keep Black people from seeking essential help for mental health issues outside of church. However, faith without advocacy does nothing. Because my Mom believed in God and was determined to help me receive the right care that was best for my health, she normalized Therapy and Emotional Awareness. The Church and its Leaders must do a better job of supporting the Black Community and its members when dealing with mental health issues. Inclusive resources for awareness, healing, and application should be provided. Discussions on mental health advocacy and help should be within the church building. Choosing to go to therapy does not mean that a person is absent from God. This mentality has to change. Now that I am a freshman in college, I see the impact of having learned how to advocate for my Mental Health as a young black child. My Mother’s ongoing support shaped my life. Talking to school counselors when I felt stressed out about my grades and was having really bad days helped me when I could not talk to my Mom or my regular Therapist. I believe onsite Trained Licensed Counselors should be made available in Inner City Community Organizations as well as Black Churches. I also benefited from being on a school team that allowed us to have “round table discussions.” This allowed us to share our emotions in a safe space. Facilitated small groups that focus on mental health should be offered in more safe spaces along with resources from each state’s National Alliance on Mental Illness Organization information. This will teach people how to advocate for themselves and hopefully become a Peer Mental Health Advocate for someone else.

I had brain surgery when I was 2 years old. An arachnoid cyst was causing pressure on my brain, and I was developmentally delayed because of it. Within one year of the initial diagnosis, the cyst grew from the size of a dime to the size of a silver dollar. My head leaned to one side. Even though brain surgery was needed to relieve pressure on my brain, I still never slept. And I was constantly sick. So I had multiple appointments every week. I missed a lot of school. I began suffering from Anxiety when I was in elementary school. I was an honor roll student and was selected to be on a travel basketball team, but I started having panic attacks. My Parents tried everything to help me calm down, but nothing helped. No amount of caring words or gentle hugs soothed my inability to breathe or think clearly. I loved playing basketball. I could drown out all of the noise and get in the zone. It made me happy. I was a shooting guard and went to basketball training to work on my skills and development. But I cried before every practice and game because we had to meet at different locations. I would sit in the car with my Parents, cry and hyperventilate. No matter how early we left our home, I was terrified of being late. I didn’t want to change my shoes. I cried because I didn’t want to go inside of buildings. Every new building reminded me of a hospital building and a doctors office. I was suffering and couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to be a normal kid, play with my friends at school and enjoy sports. I didn’t want to travel to doctor appointments anymore. But most of my Doctors were out of town. My Neurosurgeon was at UAB Children’s Hospital. The Endocrinologist was at Vanderbilt, and I had my local Orthopedic Specialist, Early Intervention Occupational Therapist and Pediatrician in Huntsville. I cried during every appointment trip. My Mom cried because she didn’t know how to calm me down while she was driving. It was a rough 6 years. I was released from UAB and Vanderbilt by the time I was 8 years old. A fear of going to new places had already set it. And I continued to get sick. An Immunologist and Back Specialist were added to my list of doctors. I started having a hard time in school. My grades began dropping. I overthought everything. My Teachers gave me extra time to take tests and complete my work. I couldn't focus. I feared that I would take up too much time. I was embarrassed about sitting in a different classroom for extra time. I felt overwhelmed and didn’t understand what was wrong with me. The panic attacks were worse. By the time I was 10 years old, I didn’t want to go to school anymore. My Mom did research, and I began speaking with a Pediatric Psychiatrist and Counselor. They patiently listened to me and taught me healthy coping skills. My Mom learned them also. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety and ADHD. A 504 Plan was put on file at my school and has been accommodated wherever I attend school. Most importantly, I’ve learned the importance of Support, Advocacy and Mental Health Awareness.