From Fragility to Strength: My Journey with Mental Health Challenges

Hello, my Wellness Warriors! This post is written by Karissa, who wants to share her wellness journey to help others. I hope you are encouraged as you read.

Okay, here ya go!

I share about my mental health challenges because I know there are so many others struggling in silence. I’ve received numerous private messages from others who have thanked me for sharing openly because then they feel less alone. So I will continue to share and be vulnerable because I feel it is so important. 

When I was younger I was an elite level gymnast. I was conditioned to believe that my feelings didn’t matter. If I was physically hurt, I pushed through. If I was emotionally unwell, I pushed through. That’s when my anxiety started. I hated going to practice, yet everyday at 10 years old, my mom drove me 30 minutes to the gym. The whole ride I would feel sick from anxiety. Would I practice well enough? Would my coach yell at me? Would he lecture me? Or would he just ignore me because I just couldn’t do a specific skill right? I was terrified of making a mistake. 

My depression and suicidal ideation started when my Dad left. He was my safe person, the one who sought out my heart, wanted to know my thoughts, and spent quality time with me. When he left I felt betrayed, empty, and alone. My mom, desperate to help, got me into counseling. I remember sitting there and crying the whole entire session. Nothing seemed to help. I wanted to die. I thought about taking a bottle of pills and ending my life because the pain felt unbearable. At 16, I started taking prozac and that helped me to gather enough strength to keep going.

My depression and anxiety has fluctuated from mild to severe in different seasons of my life. When my son was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at 4 years old, I had another bout of extreme depression and anxiety. I struggled to keep it together. I was always on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to live. The pain of what my son was going through felt too much.  My heart felt broken. I remember that first night we brought him home from the hospital 9 years ago.  His dad had to lay on top of him, pinning him to the ground so that he would stay still enough while I gave him his nighttime shot - something I had learned how to do only a few days prior. It was horrific.

I’ve had seasons where I struggled to get out of bed. I’ve had seasons where I’ve thought I needed to check myself into the hospital for fear of hurting myself. I’ve had seasons where neighbors have come and sat with me and just held me as I’ve cried. I’ve had seasons where I felt like the worst mom ever for not being able to be present with my kids because of my mental health. Dealing with guilt and shame only added to my depression and is something that I am working on daily. 

Sometimes I feel weak because I struggle with my mental health. I feel weak when I have breakdowns and feel like I’m losing myself to the torrents of anxiety and depression that seem to continually knock me down. But really what does it mean for me personally to be strong? For me, it means accepting the limitations that I have and being okay with not doing all the things I want to do.

Being strong means listening to my body and knowing when I need to say no and simply rest. Being strong means knowing that when I say yes to someone, it is not saying no to myself. Being strong means loving ALL parts of me, even the parts that I perceive are weak.  Being strong means accepting that I do struggle with depression and anxiety and embracing the fact that it doesn’t make me weak. Being strong means showering myself with love and compassion. Being strong means no longer saying yes to gain the approval or admiration of others. I am strong.