Well, It’s May.

Mental Health Awareness Month. And as a future mental health counselor, who wouldn’t advocate for their clients? Not only am I a future counselor, but I am also a teacher, and an individual who manages, quite well I may add, PTSD. For those who don’t know, PTSD is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, something I’ve been living with for years upon years upon years. My friends, the closest ones to me, just know my Isolation as “the times I just need to be alone, and then, I just get over it.” No one really understood it. Hell, I didn’t even understand it. All I know is that I taught myself how to overcome panic attacks as a teenager. Those cognitive behavioral tools just came natural to me, as I learned through my program what they actually were. PTSD is well known amongst out nation’s bravest heroes: They deploy, they come home fucked up. And it’s true; the things they see absolutely affects them on their return. What we forget about PTSD is that normal, every day people in our lives can suffer from it too- like yours truly.

“But you’re the strongest person I know.” That’s what I get anytime I open up about what I go through. Hell yes I am! I have been this way for so long and it hasn’t stopped me. I find a way. I live my life. I’ve made some stupid decisions, like stay in relationships that make it worse, but I learn. I move. I get better each day, and I am one hell of a successful, independent woman who will not stop.

There’s something, however, that I definitely need help with. Sometimes, I lose it. I lose the strength and I sink deeper and deeper into isolation and depression. You’d never know it because I am always smiling. And this is what actually makes me the strongest person some people know. I fight the moments of depression with everything I have. It beats me sometimes, like the passed couple of months. I gave up on everything I loved. Sure, I was super busy and stressed with work and school, but that doesn’t normally stop me. These passed few months, however, I sank. Too much was happening for me to fight it, so I just gave up. I train in Muay Thai, but I haven’t allowed myself to enjoy it because the dark grasp of depression’s tentacles pulled me under. That’s what it feels like you know. Like some tentacled sea creature with a thousand arms is pulling you under water. You find ways to come up for air, but it’s only for a second until it pulls you right back down. Throw some horrific flashbacks in the mix, some terrible people stepping on your face while your drowning, some extra stress and fears, and voila! Down like an old dog who knows it’ll never get back up.

But not me.

Four years ago, this month, I started this Muay Thai journey. It saved my life in so many ways, and I am so grateful I started it. I lost a lot of weight because I was happy, but here I am with all the weight back on (some medical issues and medications helped with that)- so did pizza and chocolate, but I am ok with starting over. I am ok with starting over but asking for help this time. I need help with not giving up on myself. That’s my go to depression habit. And then, 20lbs later, my clothes don’t fit. Who wouldn’t be depressed if their fat jeans are tight? Damn.

Everything else, I can pretty much handle. But if you see me slipping. If you see me giving up. If you see me disappearing for reasons other than the 30 page papers I have to write and clinical hours I have to put, pull me back in. If I tell you I’m tired, I probably am. I do get up at 5:40am every day, but depression does that too. And if you know someone else who suffers in ways you don’t understand, ask. Ask what it’s like. And talk. Talking helps. Not everyone, but some. It’s not about offering advice; some people just need someone who will actually listen to them. And be kind because you do not know anyone’s story, even if you think you do.