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“Why are you doing this? Did someone hurt you?” My parents looked up at me from where they sat at the kitchen table. Pacing the length of the room, I tried to answer their first question. The second question was simple: no, no one had molested or abused me. I was fifteen and, from the outside looking in, had everything going for me. My family loved and supported me. I did well in the culinary arts program at my school. I had even managed, with my introverted personality, to make some friends. So, when my guidance counselor called my mom to tell her that they had discovered cuts I had made on purpose the night before, my parents were baffled. Over the next year, I hurtled to the bottom at an alarming speed. I couldn’t explain the darkness clouding my mind—not even to myself. I was officially diagnosed with depression, put on Zoloft, and plopped into counseling. To my parents’ and my dismay, none of it fixed me. For the next decade, I seesawed between ignoring my illness and being completely drowned in it. I desperately wanted to be normal. Each of my peers seemed to move through life with [...]

Do you remember that kid who was always last to be picked for any sports team? The one who was always tagged “it” because he/she was easy to catch? I was that kid. I grew up as the only black head in a sea of blondes. Growing up in a bilingual household with a mother from Tokyo, I was automatically singled out as the exotic one, the native informant. My black hair earned me nothing but bullying and snide comparisons to Pocahontas and Mulan. Every Christmas, I would secretly ask Santa for blonde hair and blue eyes and wake up crushed on the inside when he didn’t follow through. Being the only Asian child at an all-white private middle school only worsened my depression. I was taunted, teased, and tripped. My so-called “friends” prank-called my house so consistently that I became afraid of the phone. Overwhelmed by my depression, pressure, and test anxiety (which eventually became full-blown anxiety), I became suicidal. Based on what little I knew (some of which came from Japanese culture which says that freely displayed emotion is to be avoided at all costs), I picked up what some would consider the worst defense mechanism in self-help [...]

I can’t remember the first time that I had a panic attack, I was too young. In my very first year of primary school, at the age of 5, I saw a child be sick during a lesson, another wet themselves in an assembly. These things bothered me tremendously and led to some obsessive behaviour, like making sure I went to the toilet before assembly every day. Whenever I saw someone be sick I would panic, and if I was sick myself I would be very frightened. My parents did not understand why I would get so worked up about it; they got annoyed at me and thought I was just having a tantrum. When I first started secondary school at the age of 11 things were very bad for the first several months. In some lessons I was so anxious and my hands tensed so tightly that I could barely hold a pen to write. I was confused and I was scared, I couldn’t understand what was wrong. Some days I had no appetite, every time I ate I felt sick, my stomach was constantly churning, it felt like I had a lump in my throat all of the [...]

The following article is an anonymous submission for Stigma Fighters. The writer wanted her identity to remain confidential, but feels that the issues expressed here are universal. This is her story.  Abuse: the silent killer You see it in the movies. You hear it on the streets. Most of us have a friend who is trapped in a cycle of violence. It's interesting how it seems so much easier to identify when it's not happening to you. Several years ago I ventured into the state of matrimony with a good friend who I thought I loved enough to marry. It looked just perfect on paper even though I had witnessed warning signs prior to us getting engaged. His temper. The ridiculous argument we had over me not being honest about completing a paint job so that he could sleep comfortably in my bed. His controlling behavior. The fact that he always "needed" to use my credit cards. But that wasn't abuse or at least I didn't see it that way. Six months into our marriage I found myself pregnant. I had mixed feelings about it but overall I was excited. After our son was born I found myself being put [...]

I'm a 22 year young woman living in Croatia, classical guitar player and teacher, passionate nature, music, art and life lover, giving my best to feel comfortable and happy in every aspect of my life so basically a huge hedonist. Oh yes, I was also diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and have panic attacks from time to time. The reason why I mentioned my anxiety issue last is that I absolutely HATE to be known for having anxiety! It has nothing to do with shame or being afraid, I simply know that there is so much about me, so many things that make me who I am and anxiety is just one little negative part of me that I am trying to completely delete. Now when I look back, I see traces of anxiety since I was a child. I remember my first panic attack when I was 4 years old when I had to go take a blood test. A few years after, when I was 7, I was bullied in elementary school and I would feel sick and nauseous every single morning before going to school. In this period I even got asthma which I never related [...]

I was an overly-dramatic emotional child. We still laugh about the time we were taking a hike while camping and I begged my uncle to carry me. I was probably fourish at the time. When no one would, I threw my head back and moaned, “WHOA IS ME! NOBODY LOVES ME! MY LITTLE LEGGIES ARE GOING TO FALL RIGHT OFF!!!” I did this the entire walk. I vaguely remember it, but I am reminded of it all the time. I am quick to react to something if it upsets me. I also worried a lot. Growing up I yelled and shouted and cried a lot. I had night terrors. I made myself physically ill worrying about the worst case scenario. I hated spending any time away from home without someone who felt like home with me. It was my “quirk” and was generally made light of. But I remember not thinking it was funny at all. The surge of sweaty nausea I got when I had to start something new like a job or college prevented me from asking questions or creating relationships until I had become comfortable. Once I was comfortable, I would talk to anyone. I would make [...]

At the beginning of this school year if someone asked me what was wrong or why I was unhappy, I could not have told them; I’ve always been this way. It was not until off a whim I signed up for a class on gender identity and sexual orientation that I realized how much my sexuality has impacted on my life. I recognized the negative impact that others homophobia (and my own personal internalized homophobia) have had on my mental health. I remember as a little kid first hearing about the concept of mental illness. I learned that people could get hurt by mean things that other people said to them if they believed their mean words. I imagined that this only occurred in extreme situations where someone did something really cruel. In reality these situations happen daily in subtle forms of hostile behavior called "micro-aggressions." I first became aware of my sexual orientation when I was in the sixth grade. It seemed like everyone around me began questioning my sexual identity before I had given it much thought.  I remember a particular experience in sixth grade writing class; I was aware that I wasn’t naturally attracted to men all that much. So I falsely [...]

I am an only child. My parents had no intention of ever changing that, and yet, I have heard my mom say, you need to have 3 kids, one to replace you and your hubby and one to populate the earth, my whole life. Why would I hear that from a woman set on having none before I came along and just one after I showed up? I have no idea, but I carried her message with me. Three kids. One to replace me, one to replace hubby and one to populate the earth. Hubby and I got married and two years later we had one to replace me, 15 months later we had one to replace him…but what about the poor, overpopulated earth? I begged, I pleaded for just one more. I wore him down. Two and a half years later we had one to populate the earth. My heart was finally satisfied. We brought her home from the birthing center and settled easily into our newly expanded family. Four girls in four years was perfect, in my mind. But that’s not all that was in my mind. I had so much energy. I couldn’t stop moving. We went [...]

Shattering the Stigma By Amy White When you find yourself in the midst of a mental health crisis, whether your own or of someone you love, you can feel as though you are about as far from paradise as you’ve ever been. That is how I felt after I found myself in the middle of my son’s crisis and why I began writing my blog. I tell my story as a way to bring light and attention to the stigma around mental illness and to openly share, not only about my successes and challenges supporting my son through his situation, but also as a way to discuss and deal with the emotions and difficulties of mine. I also share so that others may feel safe to tell their story. My story began just months before my son’s 16 birthday. He went from fun loving, active kid with many friends to isolated, dark, and forlorn in a matter of months. Thinking that he was just experiencing typical gloomy teenage behavior, I had no idea that the rug was about to be pulled out from under me. Yet on Christmas Eve 2010, I was suddenly faced with just how serious things were [...]