by Deborah in California

From childhood, I vividly remember sitting on top of my shoes inside of the closet, as I hid away and cried. I would cry for hours, if no one caught me and yelled at me to stop. Sadness was my existence; I did not have the words to articulate my experience. Almost every day, I went through an inexplicable pain; not only did I suffer with depression, but also I was being sexually abused, and I did not have the words to voice my experience. Living in a small, rural town during the 70's meant that family secrets prevailed. A book about molestation did not exist in the town library.

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by Morgan in Illinois

As far back as I can remember, mental illness has affected my life. My diagnosis, like many, is one of many disorders. I can remember the fights my parents had because my father, who suffered from bi-polar disorder, refused to seek help but self-medicated with drugs, alcohol, and countless women. My mother overcompensated by keeping an immaculate home and starving herself to meet the unattainable expectations of my father...always with a smile on her face. Even at 4-years old, I felt like there was something I should be doing differently, that it was my job to fix everything, and mostly, that it was all my fault in the first place.

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by Renee in Pennsylvania

My search for the meaning of life began at the age of 14 when drugs and alcohol became a way of life for me to cope with the years of abuse and the nightmarish memories of my past. I became a high school drop-out and ran away from home, looking for love in all the wrong places. I had been consumed body, soul and spirit by overexposure to alcohol, drugs and sexual abuse by the time I was 17.

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by Jamie in Tennessee

I'm not sure when it all started, but I think I've always dealt with depression. I just didn't always understand it. The first memory I have of it was when I was six and my grandfather died. I remember trying to hide my feelings because I thought I felt different than everyone else. I wouldn't even cry. Everyone thought I was too young for it to bother me, so I didn't let them know it did. I was always socially withdrawn because we moved around a lot, so I didn't have any friends except my sisters and brother. When I was seven, my oldest sister (who is 10 years older than me) started to molest me.

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by Jennifer in Florida

At the age of 12, I began to have trouble with depression. This became a chronic problem for me, which eventually resulted in a suicide attempt at age 15. At the same time, I was developing anorexia nervosa, which I struggled with for many years. I was hospitalized for my eating disorder at age 17. I had also developed an addiction to self-injury as a teenager, something that I was able to completely stop doing when I was in my twenties.

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by Cheryl in New Jersey

Hmm...Where to begin? Well, I was fourteen when the misery struck. Being a freshman in high school was rather easy for me. I was vice president of my class, participated in various groups such as SADD and student council, and also succeeded at a varsity level in tennis and softball. But then, like night and day almost, as if something inside of me snapped, I fell into an extremely deep depression. I didn't eat, I couldn't sleep, hygiene became a thing of the past. all I did for months was lay on my bedroom floor and stare at the wall.

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by Barbara in Pennsylvania

I was literally the last person anyone would have expected to develop a psychiatric disorder. I've never used recreational drugs or abused alcohol. I had a good childhood and adolescence. I attended a fine undergraduate college (Smith) and graduated cum laude. In fact, I shared everyone else's belief that I was immune to bipolar or anything like it. If you're among those who still think immunity to mental illness exists, wake up (Even men can get breast cancer, you know.)

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by Melanie in Virginia

I had always had problems with feeling down, melancholy even, but that first episode of major depression was different. Not only was it more intense, it was also preceded by six months of utter hyperactive activity and productivity. I would later learn that those six months were my first episode of hypomania.

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by Louise in Nevada

I was in high school when I first remember thinking that killing myself would solve my problems. Back then, I had never heard of depression or even knew mental illness was anything other than what was shown in the movies.

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by Skittlz in Maryland

I was 16 years old was when my depression really started to kick in. My grandfather had passed away four days after Christmas in 2004, and it really hit me hard. I locked myself in my room and did not want to come out. I was terrified that all of my friends in school were after me because it seemed like they just did nothing but talk about me behind my back. Two weeks after my grandfather's death, I slit my wrists trying to kill myself. I didn't tell anybody because I figured everyone would be happier without me being around. I tried slitting my throat so I would die faster, I tried popping a whole bunch of pills to die faster, but nothing seemed to work.

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