04.27.2018 | My dad picked me up from my River North condo at 6am, drove us to O’Hare International Airport & flew next to me; to ensure that I would be safely deposited in the foothills of the Catalinas for a month at rehab. My dad never left the airport | I did. My healing did not start at rehab under the desert sky, but I was desperate. I had nothing to lose & everything to gain.

Only in hindsight do I see that my mental illness, my invisible illness, Major Depressive Disorder, had been churning inside me for decades. The subtle undertones slowly bubbling below the surface; waiting to explode. I saw the signs way too late.

Depression is like a ticking time bomb | left untreated, unrecognized, misunderstood; the disease festers & continues to strengthen internally; until it fully descends and implodes (for some).

The depths of despair when my mind was ravaged by illness; knew no bounds. I lost hope. I lost my desire for my life. My ability to think clearly. My will to shower. To eat. To fight for my life. I became a mute trying to work as a sales and catering manager in the hospitality industry in downtown Chicago. My mind turned on me.

I will never forget the pained look in my dad partners eyes when I told her; with hollow eyes & dull intonation, that I just truly wanted the suffering & pain to end. I wanted to die. This was the same summer that many celebrities I admired took their lives. Mental illness is all consuming. It takes over, if we left it.

My thoughts, my clarity disintegrated over the years into a slowly building, self-sustaining, ruminating cycle of self-torturous & deceiving thoughts. Depression gnawed & gnawed at me.

I know the depths of finding yourself swimming under current, desperately attempting one second above water, feeling like your feet have the heaviest possible weights strapped to them. One breath. Come up for air. Gulp in one breath. Back underwater.

And then 4 years have passed and all of a sudden, I am a survivor. Warrior. Strong. Resilient. Mindful. Conscious. Aware.

I sat in those feelings yesterday by pouring through my journal, re-reading email exchanges + letters with those I was closest to. I read through my material from Sierra Tucson. I wore the fidget ring my roommate gifted me on our last day. The turquoise & gold, beaded bracelet for strength that my sister-in-law gave me before I left. I wore that bracelet every day for the next year +.

I looked at the photos of me holding my oldest nephew, who turned 5 weeks old on April 27th & who I returned to Memorial Day weekend when I came home early. My eyes were hollow in those photos. Lifeless. He was my marker of growth & strength for 2 years. He was part of my healing the summer of 2018 when he was just an infant. He felt my torture. Our relationship did not start to grow & strengthen until the sadness I was anchoring in; slowly started to dissipate.

Kids. Animals. They are sponges that feel emotions. Adults, less so.

I felt all of the fells yesterday. I honored my former self from 4 years ago. The struggling, lost, depressed, broken soul that did not think she would ever find her way. That sentiment reverberated through all of my notes over the years, dating back so much further than I realized, until I became aware & opened my eyes to understanding my illness.

The fight to live, even in the torture chambers of your mind in the throes of mental illness; the fight to live is always worth it. The light that faintly flickers at the end of the tunnel; chase that light. It may dim, but it will strengthen again. The flickering light is your hope that brighter days are ahead.