The Mental Prison Bang! The antidepressant pill bottles bounced off the wall onto the hard marble-tiled floor. The pills slowly depleted from the bottle. I had a lot of hatred towards those pills because it represents the mental prison my mother is still in. She always had the same look on her face when I tried to talk to her about her mental illness. But this time, I saw the disappointment in my mother’s eyes. I took it too far. I was ashamed of what I had just done. When I was little, I would see my parents argue frequently. I would always ask my mom and dad why are y'all fighting. Every time they struggled to come up with a response, but they always said it started happening after my mother had me. They wanted to protect me from my mother's complex and merciless condition, but my innocence was soon ended by my discovery of my mother's medications. I had never seen so many medications with different names, such as Lurasidone, in one place. As a child, I did not understand why my mom was taking these medications, but I did witness the negative effects of these medications firsthand as a child. I would see my mom go through terrible mood swings or lose her appetite, but she had to take these medications to cope with her mental illness, according to the doctors. I felt guilty because I left my mother alone to play with my friends or play video games while she was battling her mental illness. I started to feel depressed, just like my mother. I blamed myself for my mother’s depression and anxiety. It began to affect my academic performance in school. My grades dropped drastically but my academic career was not my priority. The only way I handled this situation was by helping her. I had to take on more responsibilities because I was the oldest child, and I had to look out for my siblings. I had to spend more time tutoring my siblings than doing my homework and I tried to preach to them to start being more independent. It was hard for me as a student and son. But I was okay with it since I promised myself to help my mother every day no matter what situation I was dealing with. I became my mother's therapist and nurse from now on. I made sure she took her diabetic medications on time, and I was very patient with her whenever I talked to her. I tried to do everything right, but nothing seemed to change her behavior. Arguments still happened frequently. Even after all that I did, I was hoping I could free her from the mental prison she was in. I was confused. A simple walk in my backyard with my mother opened my eyes to the truth. She revealed she could not get any sleep or peace because her mind was always clouded with negativity and her medications took a toll on her. Everything I did over the years to help my mother cope with her mental illness did not help her. I told her to stop taking the medications because of the terrible side effects. I have tried putting myself in my mother's shoes, but it has only resulted in more confusion and pity. I started researching mental illnesses. Different doctors helped me understand my mother’s condition and the consequences of having depression. In 2016, suicide ranked as the 10th leading cause of death among Americans. I did not want my mother to be a statistic or anyone else. So I advocated for more mental health awareness, my family, and friends. Physical and mental health should be treated with the same care. I hope through my initiative, more people in the future are willing to talk about their mental health before it's too late because it is okay to free your mind. My experiences with my mother did make both of us stronger and taught me to be more independent. Although my mother’s mental health and my grades have improved, I am still looking for the key.

As a child of immigrants, I was taught to concentrate on academics and work hard. However, this wasn't always the case. I did try to achieve the best grades I could in my elementary and middle school years, but there was always a growing shadow lurking behind me. As a child, I was ignorant of the presence of this shadow, but in my teens, it became increasingly evident. My mother's depression had a profound impact on me. I experienced guilt and regret, but it was a life lesson that opened my eyes to the harsh reality. Each time I spent time with her was a unique lesson in itself. Yet the greatest lessons I learned from my mother are about communicating with others and supporting them. She always tells me this quote “always help someone, you might be the only one who does”. I try to embody that phrase in my daily life by creating initiatives, raising awareness for a cause, or by simply asking how someone is doing or how can I help them. Until I experienced one specific moment with my mother. Bang! The antidepressant pill bottles bounced off the wall onto the hard marble-tiled floor. The pills slowly depleted from the bottle. I had a lot of hatred towards those pills because it represents the mental prison my mother is still in. She always had the same look on her face when I tried to talk to her about her mental illness. But this time, I saw the disappointment in my mother’s eyes. I took it too far. I was ashamed of what I had just done. When I was little, I would see my parents argue frequently. I would always ask my mom and dad why are y'all fighting. Every time they struggled to come up with a response, but they always said it started happening after my mother had me. They wanted to protect me from my mother's complex and merciless condition, but my innocence was soon ended by my discovery of my mother's medications. I had never seen so many medications with different names, such as Lurasidone, in one place. As a child, I did not understand why my mom was taking these medications, but I did witness the negative effects of these medications firsthand as a child. I would see my mom go through terrible mood swings or lose her appetite, but she had to take these medications to cope with her mental illness, according to the doctors. I felt guilty because I left my mother alone to play with my friends or play video games while she was battling her mental illness. I started to feel depressed, just like my mother. I blamed myself for my mother’s depression and anxiety. It began to affect my academic performance in school. My grades dropped drastically but my academic career was not my priority. The only way I handled this situation was by helping her. I had to take on more responsibilities because I was the oldest child, and I had to look out for my siblings. I had to spend more time tutoring my siblings than doing my homework and I tried to preach to them to start being more independent. It was hard for me as a student and son. But I was okay with it since I promised myself to help my mother every day no matter what situation I was dealing with. I became my mother's therapist and nurse from now on. I made sure she took her diabetic medications on time, and I was very patient with her whenever I talked to her. I tried to do everything right, but nothing seemed to change her behavior. Arguments still happened frequently. Even after all that I did, I was hoping I could free her from the mental prison she was in. I was confused. A simple walk in my backyard with my mother opened my eyes to the truth. She revealed she could not get any sleep or peace because her mind was always clouded with negativity and her medications took a toll on her. Everything I did over the years to help my mother cope with her mental illness did not help her. I told her to stop taking the medications because of the terrible side effects. I have tried putting myself in my mother's shoes, but it has only resulted in more confusion and pity. I started researching mental illnesses. Different doctors helped me understand my mother’s condition and the consequences of having depression. In 2016, suicide ranked as the 10th leading cause of death among Americans. I did not want my mother to be a statistic or anyone else. So I advocated for more mental health awareness, my family, and friends. Physical and mental health should be treated with the same care. I hope through my initiative, more people in the future are willing to talk about their mental health before it's too late because it is okay to free your mind. My experiences with my mother did make both of us stronger and taught me to be more independent. Although my mother’s mental health and my grades have improved, I am still looking for the key.

As a child of immigrants, I was taught to concentrate on academics and work hard. However, this wasn't always the case. I did try to achieve the best grades I could in my elementary and middle school years, but there was always a growing shadow lurking behind me. As a child, I was ignorant of the presence of this shadow, but in my teens, it became increasingly evident. My mother's depression had a profound impact on me. I experienced guilt and regret, but it was a life lesson that opened my eyes to the harsh reality. Each time I spent time with her was a unique lesson in itself. Yet the greatest lessons I learned from my mother are about communicating with others and supporting them. She always tells me this quote “always help someone, you might be the only one who does”. I try to embody that phrase in my daily life by creating initiatives, raising awareness for a cause, or by simply asking how someone is doing or how can I help them. Not only do I want to break the taboo of not discussing mental health, but I also want to normalize it by creating events and organizations dedicated to mental health awareness.

The Mental Prison Bang! The antidepressant pill bottles bounced off the wall onto the hard marble-tiled floor. The pills slowly depleted from the bottle. I had a lot of hatred towards those pills because it represents the mental prison my mother is still in. She always had the same look on her face when I tried to talk to her about her mental illness. But this time, I saw the disappointment in my mother’s eyes. I took it too far. I was ashamed of what I had just done. When I was little, I would see my parents argue frequently. I would always ask my mom and dad why are y'all fighting. Every time they struggled to come up with a response, but they always said it started happening after my mother had me. They wanted to protect me from my mother's complex and merciless condition, but my innocence was soon ended by my discovery of my mother's medications. I had never seen so many medications with different names, such as Lurasidone, in one place. As a child, I did not understand why my mom was taking these medications, but I did witness the negative effects of these medications firsthand as a child. I would see my mom go through terrible mood swings or lose her appetite, but she had to take these medications to cope with her mental illness, according to the doctors. I felt guilty because I left my mother alone to play with my friends or play video games while she was battling her mental illness. I started to feel depressed, just like my mother. I blamed myself for my mother’s depression and anxiety. It began to affect my academic performance in school. My grades dropped drastically but my academic career was not my priority. The only way I handled this situation was by helping her. I had to take on more responsibilities because I was the oldest child, and I had to look out for my siblings. I had to spend more time tutoring my siblings than doing my homework and I tried to preach to them to start being more independent. It was hard for me as a student and son. But I was okay with it since I promised myself to help my mother every day no matter what situation I was dealing with. I became my mother's therapist and nurse from now on. I made sure she took her diabetic medications on time, and I was very patient with her whenever I talked to her. I tried to do everything right, but nothing seemed to change her behavior. Arguments still happened frequently. Even after all that I did, I was hoping I could free her from the mental prison she was in. I was confused. A simple walk in my backyard with my mother opened my eyes to the truth. She revealed she could not get any sleep or peace because her mind was always clouded with negativity and her medications took a toll on her. Everything I did over the years to help my mother cope with her mental illness did not help her. I told her to stop taking the medications because of the terrible side effects. I have tried putting myself in my mother's shoes, but it has only resulted in more confusion and pity. I started researching mental illnesses. Different doctors helped me understand my mother’s condition and the consequences of having depression. In 2016, suicide ranked as the 10th leading cause of death among Americans. I did not want my mother to be a statistic or anyone else. So I advocated for more mental health awareness, my family, and friends. Physical and mental health should be treated with the same care. I hope through my initiative, more people in the future are willing to talk about their mental health before it's too late because it is okay to free your mind. My experiences with my mother did make both of us stronger and taught me to be more independent. Although my mother’s mental health and my grades have improved, I am still looking for the key.