Mental Health Essay My earliest memory of the start of my mental health issues was when I was around four years old. My parents were leaving for a date night and my sitter, sisters and I all settled down to watch a movie. Out of nowhere I started to get nervous and began thinking, “I hope my parents got there safely. Of course they did. …But what if they didn’t?” My heart rate increased and my breathing sped up. I began to sob and sprinted to my parent’s bedroom, feeling the strongest pain of sadness I had ever felt before. The feeling of dread eventually took its toll and exhausted I fell asleep, holding my parent’s portrait. I believe that moment was the start of my stress, intense overthinking, and my anxiety. Fast forward 11 years to March of 2020. I was a happy girl: sun-kissed from swimming at practice every day, seeing my friends at school, ecstatic that we were getting close to the start of Summer before our sophomore year. Then, of course, the nationwide lockdown happened. My friends and I joked about it, and we were excited about our “two-week vacation”. But then two weeks turned to a month, one month into two, two months into a year. Swim practice was abruptly canceled for 3 months. I was in complete social isolation. Facetime with my friends became less and less and I immersed myself in social media. My room became dark with the exception of a neon strip bordering my ceiling. I stopped leaving my room as my friend group disappeared. Though I never missed an online class, I completely disregarded my homework and my grades. I had been a straight-A student all my life; I nearly failed three classes that year. Swim practice eventually resumed but my competitive spirit was lost. My attendance had gone from nine practices a week pre-pandemic to one or two, at which I barely tried or cared. I had lost motivation for everything. Everyone could see that my mental and physical health was quickly deteriorating. I wanted my life to be over. I began having suicidal thoughts and it got to a point where my parents were desperate to help me. I remember sitting with my parents, and all of us holding each other crying, just trying to get as close to each other as humanly possible. Feeling helpless, my parents contacted a therapist. I truly believe that they saved my life. I am a senior now. I have been going to therapy for three years, and I am finally healing. In the process of my healing, I went from having a friend group of 12 girls to having one close friend this year, Gracie. Though that might sound lonely, I have never felt more appreciated in a friendship than I do now. My relationship with my parents is better than it ever has been. And of course, I have a perfect little angel of a dog, Sugar, who is my favorite little thing in this world. I’ve learned that mental healing is a process and keeping the doors open to help and support is key; a lesson that I will hold dear in the years to come. I’m excited for my future as a college student! I hope that I can share my experience with other students and spread awareness about mental health issues as I believe no one should walk this path alone. I am finally living a life controlling my mental health, instead of my mental health controlling my life.