I've struggled with mental health from a very young age. I had parents who endlessly fought and divorced before I hit kindergarten, and went through a very traumatic event at the age of 7. I was a good student, but got in trouble for talking endlessly and not quite understanding when it was appropriate to talk or not. I struggled making and keeping friends, and when I did they sometimes weren't the best people. By the end of my first year of middle school, I had been properly bullied for the first, but not last, time. I had already felt off for some time, like I didn't belong and was never truly happy. I was diagnosed with depression before I could do algebra, along with anxiety. As far back as I can remember, I can never been truly mentally healthy. It was exhausting, to be only 12 years old and already having suicidal ideation nearly daily. But I kept on living. I pushed through day to day life, I continued to try to make friends, and I did! I made friends, lost friends, made more, and just tried to get through one day at a time. Before I knew it, I was already in high school, and I only had four more years of school to go... and then it happened. I was sitting in the kitchen, talking to my mom as she made dinner, when my step-dad walked into the house, his face contorted in an emotion I couldn't quite place. Then he spoke. My childhood friend, the child of a really close friend of my parents, had committed suicide. My stomach dropped. I couldn't believe that it was true. Just a few months before their family had been at our bonfire, and he was talking my ear off about this video game that he had been really into lately. I had laughed because it was something I would've never played, but told him I would look at it. He made me watch videos of gameplay, and we had laughed and ate s'mores... and I would never see him again. It was a heart-wrenching kind of pain, the kind that makes you gasp for air. I couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, but as we showed up to his wake, and they had his ashes at the front of the church and handed out bracelets with his name, it became too real. I didn't even get to see him for one last time, just an urn which supposedly held my friend's remains. That experience shocked me. However, one positive did come out of it; it sparked my interest in mental health. His death is the reason I went down so many rabbit holes, researching psychology and wanting desperately to understand everything, so that maybe I could prevent this from happening again. I took multiple training sessions on how to help someone who was struggling with suicidal thoughts, I read over various mental illnesses and obsessed over learning the characteristics of each one. Now, I'm a psychology major, who advocated for myself and got two late diagnoses of ADHD and ASD. I still wear the bracelet I got at his funeral every day, though the words have long since faded off and are no longer legible. It's a reminded who I am, and who I fight for. My goal in life is to fight for everyone suffering silently with mental illness. I fight for men to feel comfortable discussing their mental health issues, and women who are systemically misdiagnosed. I want to help everyone that I possibly can. I wish for nobody to have to sit through the funeral of their friend, who thought their only choice was to take their own life, ever again. I take every social interaction in stride, knowing each person I meet may have something deeper going on. I have forgiven the people who bullied me, and forgiven those who have ever had an unpleasant interaction with me, because I don't know what else is/was happening in their lives. All I know is that I want to be the person that others feel that they can talk to. My overall educational goal is to get my PhD in Psychology, and work as a Psychologist to help people work through their own mental health. I want everyone to be able to recognize and understand how and why their brain works the way it does. My biggest wish is to make my mark on the people I meet, and hopefully give them understanding. As someone who has struggled with mental health, and lost someone to their own struggle with it, all I want in life is to help others.

In order to clear my mind, I like to start by thinking of the good in my life. I think about my family, and how lucky I am to have people who have supported me, even through making life-altering decisions. I think about my chosen family as well, my significant other and my friends who have decided to stay by me and lift me, despite all my short-comings and flaws. I think about how with them, it is so much easier to accept myself for who I am, because so many others have already done so. I also enjoy music. Music is such a fascinating and powerful medium to express emotion. I find that it is extremely important to allow yourself to feel your emotions, even when they may be uncomfortable. Music helps with that; whether it's crying and screaming Taylor Swift songs in the car, listening to Cage the Elephant in my room while I express my emotions through art, or blasting music in my room while me and my friends sing along at the top of our lungs. Nothing is as moving to me as music. As an autistic person, I found emotions very hard to understand growing up, so I used music as a medium to express my feelings when I couldn't figure out how to put them into words. While I myself am horrible at keeping a journal, I do find them useful when I'm having an unusually bad day. Having the ability to just write out all of your feelings without anyone else having to hear them is incredibly cathartic. It also helps with intrusive thoughts; sometimes, one may think things that they don't want to think, and journaling can help express those thoughts without having to actually say them out loud. It's like a personal confession, where the writer is both the sinner and the Priest. It's helpful to learn to accept your own thoughts, and learn how to forgive yourself for them. Everyone has shameful thoughts, and keeping them to yourself will eat you alive. However, actually talking to another person is a big step, and is nauseatingly anxiety-inducing to some, so a good start is a journal. My biggest secret to clearing my mind is a simple, yet scary one; talk to someone. Be it a friend, a parent, or a counselor, talking to someone is almost always beneficial. It may be frightening to talk to someone about what is bothering you, but more often than not, an outside perspective can allow others to give some really good advice. However, if the person you're talking to is not a professional, it's important to get their consent to unload your burdens onto them. Most friends don't mind, but there is always a possibility that they are already overloaded with their own problems, so it's important to talk to them first before word vomiting your problems onto them. The topic may also be a sensitive subject for them, and it may be healthiest for them to decline to discuss it with you, and ask that you find another friend to talk to; don't take this as a rejection, instead see it for what it is; a healthy boundary.