Throughout the years, I attended a lot of assemblies that talked about how important mental health is, and people or places you could contact if you were ever worried about your mental health. While being young the meaning, or importance, of mental health never meant much to me. I thought sadness was a feeling you had for only a short period of time, and it only occurred every so often. Getting older, and seeing people around me say that they were depressed, I started to understand more about people’s feelings, and that depression can show in many different ways. It doesn’t always wear the face of sadness; sometimes, it’s anger, withdrawal, or numbness. Many of my friends were going through tough situations with their family, or friends, and I would be there to assist them. I would make sure to let them know their feelings are valid, and they can talk to me during any time. I was available. I never wanted anybody to feel alone, because feeling alone was a feeling that I did not like. Time and time again I would find myself almost being a therapist to my friends, and listening to their problems. I was the friend I never had. I told people their feelings were valid, but when it came to my own, I invalidated them. I would come up with an excuse like, “Oh I’m just being dramatic.” or “It must be that time of the month!” It was, and still is, hard for me to process my own feelings. My mindset told me that the way I felt was not serious, and that other people have worse things to worry about. I didn’t have a person to tell me that it’s ok to be sad, and to not be ashamed to reach out for help. Because I feared loneliness, I clung to relationships that didn’t serve me. I allowed people who didn’t truly support me to remain close, simply because the idea of being alone felt worse than the pain they caused. I was surrounded by “friends,” but I often felt like an outsider, excluded from group chats, left out of plans, and ultimately left feeling invisible. Despite recognizing that those relationships were unhealthy, I struggled to walk away. I ignored the signs—even when I felt deep down that God was urging me to let them go—because I didn’t know who I was without them. And that caused more drama than peace. It’s been a journey, but with time, I’ve found strength in solitude. I’ve started to focus on myself, to honor my own feelings the way I once did for others. I’m no longer everyone's therapist, I’m finally becoming my own.