I have always struggled with mental health issues, starting from my teenage years with anxiety and depression.
From a young age, the shadows of anxiety and depression loomed over me, casting a pall over my adolescence. I vividly remember my first encounter with despair; it was a seemingly ordinary day, yet I felt an overwhelming sadness that I couldn’t explain. The world felt heavy, the colours muted, and every cheerful laugh around me seemed to amplify my internal struggle. In recent years, as mental health awareness has increased, I’ve begun to uncover the reasons behind my feelings.
I often masked my emotions during my school years with a friendly smile. I became skilled at pretending everything was okay, even though my heart raced in social situations and my mind spiralled into negative thoughts. I spent hours overanalyzing every interaction, replaying conversations, and worrying about how others perceived me. Anxiety became a relentless companion, making even the simplest tasks feel monumental.
After my father lost the family home and went to prison for fraud when I was twenty, I suddenly found myself homeless, which made everything more complicated. This upheaval intensified my mental health issues. I began to withdraw from friends and activities I once enjoyed, preferring the comfort of solitude, where my mind felt safe from judgment. However, that solitude often deepened my sadness.
I spent almost 6 months homeless, sofa surfing around friends or friends of friends, but extended family (aunts and uncles) living in the area didn't reach out to offer any help. This was a real low point of my life.
Fortunately, a stranger helped me get into college and provided the support I needed to improve my opportunities. I remember walking into a college open day after spending the night on a friend’s sofa; for the first time, Where he was offering prospective candidates interviews to get onto a Technology course. He saw something in me and offered me a place. I felt a glimmer of hope—I realised I could be vulnerable and still be accepted.
A couple of years later after working hard on the course, I was offered a place at University and really felt my life was coming together, I felt happier than I had for years. But this only lasted for 18 months, as soon as my father found out that I had money from student grants and loans he came with his cap in hand and a bag of emotional blackmail ready to pour on me. I 'lent' him money (a couple of thousand) which he never repaid, and then struggled to pay my rent and University fees. They gave me a final warning and I was close to being homeless again when I found out about a government scheme to award talented students with extra financial help, a sort of scholarship. After a couple of months of interviews and written tests, I was awarded enough to pay my debts and stay on at University,
After lots of therapy and conversations with support workers, years later, I started to notice a shift as societal awareness around mental health grew. I began to read articles and stories from others who had faced similar battles, finding solace in knowing I wasn’t alone. This realization allowed me to confront my own issues from a new perspective. I learned to articulate my struggles instead of hiding them, and I sought help. A therapist became a guiding light in my journey.
In therapy, I began to unravel the knots of my anxiety and depression. Together, we explored the roots of my feelings, delving into past experiences and the pressures I had placed on myself. My therapy sessions turned into a safe haven, a space where I could express my emotions without fear of judgment. Over time, I learned coping strategies to manage my anxiety and tools to challenge my depressive thoughts.
With each breakthrough, I started to appreciate small victories. A day spent with friends no longer felt overwhelming; instead, it became something to cherish. I learned to practice self-compassion, recognizing that my mental health journey was unique and that setbacks were okay.
In 2019 I decided after seeing a TV documentary about Autism to find out if I was, as I saw a lot of similarities to myself. I approached the therapist I was seeing about this and he agreed and provided me with the official test. A few months later the result came back as Aspergers (a term no longer used). This explained a lot about my life but came as no surprise.
As I navigated my path to mental wellness, I became passionate about sharing my story. I joined support groups and started volunteering, hoping to uplift others who struggled as I once did. Each time someone opened up, I was reminded of the power of connection—forming bonds that dissolve the loneliness often associated with mental health issues.
Today, although anxiety and depression might still be part of my life, I no longer let them define me. I’ve learned resilience and the importance of reaching out for help. Each day is a new opportunity to embrace who I am, to keep growing, and to support others on their journeys. Mental health is a continuous process, and I am learning to navigate it with compassion and courage.
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