After weeks of hiding in my room, feigning illness and inventing excuses, I had hit my lowest point. I never reached the point of seriously considering suicide, but the thought still crept through my mind. I found myself on the edge of self harm night after night.

Eventually, I forced myself to go to my music lesson. My professor quickly figured out that I was not okay. She cancelled our lesson, got me some tea, and sat me down. She said to me, “It doesn’t always have to be like this. You can get help, and you can be happy.” It’s such a simple thing to say, and a very familiar concept. I understood the statistics, I understood that help was available. But it had never occured to me that any of that applied to ME. I will always be grateful to my professor for taking the time to speak with me and the time to care.

Help had always been an option for me. I had just never considered the fact that it might actually work. I didn’t understand the financial aspect of seeking psychiatric and therapeutic help, and didn’t want my family to know that I was struggling. I was always independent, and this seemed to signal weakness in me. Strangely enough, I think it takes more strength to ask for help than to ignore it.

I started seeing a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I tried various combinations of drugs, and eventually found a combination that stabilized me at least enough to think clearly again. Eventually, I also met with a social worker, who was a tremendous help to me. While our sessions were short, she respected my intelligence and insight, working with me to improve my situation. In those sessions, I realized what I had working in my favour.

I have since decided to go into the field of social work, and am pursuing these studies with a passion that I never thought possible. I am doing well, and I owe much to my old professor, doctor, social worker, friends, and family. Their support and insight has got me where I am, and I will always be grateful to them.

Now that I can stand on my own, I can now better help others. I can be a better sister, daughter, girlfriend, student….and really, a better person. Living with mental illness is never an ideal situation, but I have learned how to make it work. Even if I slip, and even if the worst comes to pass, I know now that I can ask for help. I know now that the support is there when I need it.

Written by Dani, 21

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 at 12:34 pm and is filed under My Story, Suicide & Self-Harm, Stressed Out, Stigma, Bipolar Disorder, Getting Help. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.