My depression crawls into bed with me every night. My depression is the big spoon in our relationship and it wraps around me and settles in.

My depression stays with me through the night and weeps with me as I listen to a podcast or sweet melodies, hoping that I will find rest. My depression keeps me from said rest. Sleepless nights are all too familiar.

My depression depletes me. It suppresses my appetite, slows down my energy, and begs for bad medicine. My depression fills my head with dark thoughts and my body with sadness.

My anxiety wakes me up in the morning, grabs my hand, drags me out of bed, and forces me to tears. It keeps those tears just out of reach and forces them out of me at the most inopportune times.

My anxiety keeps me on my toes, pulling me into states of paranoia and worry.

My anxiety questions my every choice, decision, move and thought, telling me that I’m not good enough, even in moments when I am certain I am.

My PTSD shows up out of the blue, as images fading in and out of my mind with as much drama and emotion as a Real Housewives show.

My PTSD doesn’t allow me to enjoy the things I used to. Everything in my life reminds me of something negative. Sounds and sights take me right back, and my PTSD smirks at me like the little devil on my shoulder, knowing it’s won again.

My PTSD stops me dead in my tracks. Dead, like Alex. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My PTSD paralyzes me and I’m terrified, but I give in and allow myself to sit with it, even though I don’t want to.

My mental health broke me. It’s shaped how I look at life and has made me question everything. It has dimmed my light and forced me into the shadows of who I once was.

My mental health changed my relationships. With myself. My family. My peers. I’m more introverted and socially awkward now. I don’t maintain relationships well because I don’t have the energy for it. It’s caused some trust issues, as I fear losing another loved one.

My mental health challenges me to be a better person. It asks me to fight and show up in ways I never thought possible. My mental health has made me stronger, and oddly, I’m thankful for my struggles.

Communicator. Educator. Empath. Survivor. Writer.