Every September, when Mental Health Awareness Month comes around, I pause to reflect on where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. For me, it’s not just a date on the calendar — it’s deeply personal. It’s a reminder of the darkest chapter of my life in 2013, when I nearly didn’t make it.
Back then, I was weighed down by years of silent battles. I had been bullied during high school and later hurt by someone in a church community where I was supposed to feel safe. The betrayal, shame, and isolation piled up until I felt like I couldn’t carry it anymore. Just days before Thanksgiving, I attempted to end my life. I didn’t think I’d ever see another holiday season, another chance to start fresh, or another reason to believe that life could get better.
But here I am. And I don’t take that lightly.
That’s why Mental Health Awareness Month means so much to me. It represents a second chance — not just for me, but for anyone who has felt crushed by the weight of their own thoughts. When I speak up now, it’s not because I’ve “figured it all out” or because the struggles magically disappeared. It’s because I know firsthand what it feels like to be drowning in silence, and I want others to know they don’t have to go through it alone.
Raising awareness isn’t about buzzwords or campaigns — it’s about saving lives. It’s about making space for conversations that too often stay in the dark. It’s about teaching people to recognize the signs of pain in others: the quiet ones, the overly cheerful ones, the ones who always say, “I’m fine.” It’s about showing compassion where judgment used to live.
For me, September is a time to honor my journey, but also to use my voice for those who haven’t yet found theirs. I survived so I could share, so I could tell someone else: healing is possible, hope is real, and your story isn’t over yet.
Mental Health Awareness Month reminds me that recovery is not only about me — it’s about creating a world where stigma fades, and support grows. A world where reaching out for help is seen as courage, not weakness. And if sharing my story helps even one person choose to stay another day, then that’s the greatest purpose I could ever have.