Mental health matters and so does each person with a mental illness. We are not alone, 1 in 5 Canadians suffer from a ,mental illness of some form or another, I believe that over the past few years, especially during Covid, that we are in a mental health crisis. Mental illness has no respect of persons, no one is exempt, no one! Mental illness has touched the lives of all of us, whether that being ourselves directly or someone we know.
Today is “Bell Let’s Talk” day. So, let’s talk! My name is Harris Tucker and I suffer from a mental illness! I have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide; I have an illness, it’s that simple. No need to be stigmatized, no need to be misunderstood, no room for prejudice, no need to feel alone. This is why I have talked about my illness with openness, transparency and truth; hiding nothing. My advocacy for mental illness can be found on my website at www.harrislisa72.com and also through my book, “Beyond The Door, My Journey Through A Lifetime Of Mental Illness”, available through Amazon.ca. It’s through both of these avenues that I have shared my story, my life and my experiences with; major depression and anxiety disorder. Bell’s campaign, ‘Let’s Talk’ certainly motivates us all to share our story. How else will others know and understand what mental health is all about, if we don’t talk about it? So let’s talk and talk some more, let’s never stop talking. And eventually the walls of stigma will come down and all those who are suffering, will suffer in silence no more but will talk of their illness has free has talking about any physical illness.
In the last few months I have worked on my mental health so intently because if I didn’t I would once again end up in that dark hole with no end in sight. I have to give some credit for my improvement to my medical team; my family doctor, my psychiatrist and therapist who have so caringly given me the tools and encouragement that I needed to get to where I am today, which is a much better place. A place where I can find some light, a place of hope and a reason to love myself and live, in spite of my mental illness. It’s been a long journey back to a form of recovery, I know I’m not cured, there is no cure, but I am so thankful to be able to say that I am at a better place then I have been in years. And much appreciation also goes to my family and my heavenly Father who have walked this journey with me and have never left me and I’m sure will continue to walk with me.
I am especially drawn to those who suffer with depression and anxiety because I know how they feel, I get it. I have been where they are. But I want to tell you now; no matter how dark the day – there is light, no matter how hopeless you feel – there is hope, and no matter how worthless you feel – you matter, you are worthy! Just hang in there; after the darkness comes the dawn. The light will shine again!! I know because I have been there!
I can’t believe that today is December 1st and before we know it it’ll be Christmas once again. Time seems to fly no matter what. It only seems like yesterday that I wrote my last blog entitled, ‘ A Relapse?’ I have hesitated to write an update to that blog simply because I wonder: why? Why bother, why take the time to write, why make my illness an open book for all to see and read? And in so doing opening myself up to judgement by others, being stigmatized, misunderstood and exposed to much prejudice by those who don’t understand or just don’t care to understand. But then I remind myself, I do this to help others, especially for those who suffer in silence, to those who don’t have a voice because it’s through speaking out and sharing our own experience with mental illness that others will begin to understand and break down the walls of stigma. So here I am again with an update on my mental health status after my relapse.
A couple of months ago I realized I was relapsing when I started having panic attacks, I lost interest in doing anything that once brought me such joy, not only did I lose interest, but I lost the motivation to do them. These were sure signs that I was rapidly spiraling down a dark hole, a place that I could not visit again. So began the hard work of keeping myself from going any deeper into this dark hole. I was determined to fight this beast with every ounce of strength that I have in me.
In my last blog I introduced you to my plan of attack. First I had to admit and realize that I needed help and I had to reach out to others who could support or give me direction I needed to take to overcome. My family doctor, my psychiatrist and therapist gave me the tools I needed, now it was up to me to do the work and work I did!
Once the kids were off to school, my work began. No matter how cold it was outside, I pushed myself out the door and went for a 30 minute walk. Now to those who are well this doesn’t seem like much but to me this seemed like a mountain, a marathon. I also practiced mindfulness and meditation throughout the day; I constantly reminded myself to stay in the moment. This also may seem easy to do but for me, it was near impossible but I had to do it. It’s now been about six weeks since I started my uphill journey to getting well and by well I don’t mean cured; I wish! By well I mean being able to feel in control of my mental illness and not the other way around. There’s nothing more scary then feeling you are not in control of your own well being and life. I have already accepted the fact that I have a chronic illness, not unlike any chronic physical illness, where both need constant medical attention.
Today I’m feeling hopeful, I haven’t had a panic attack in about two weeks. I know I have a long way to go but I find hope in the little things; each small improvement is a milestone for me. So it is with great determination that I keep moving forward and upward. That I make the best of each day, one day at a time, weather that be a good day or a bad day. If you are struggling today, don’t give up, keep fighting, tomorrow will be better!
When I finished writing my book; my story did not end there, my struggle with depression and anxiety continued. I still continue to blog my journey at www.harrislisa72.com. I write as therapy for myself, a means of helping others who struggle and also a way of challenging those who may not understand this illness. This blog will take us down the road of the last few months of my painful and frightening journey.
A relapse? Oh no, that cannot happen and will not happen, I won’t let it happen. Weeks have gone by and I’ve really struggled; I mean REALLY struggled. To make a traumatic experience even more traumatic; I now experience something I feared for years now, that would be panic attacks. They are so frightening, making you feel you are losing ‘it’, you are losing control, your body temperature rises, you break out in body sweats, you panic; really panic…. you cannot breathe. You want to run! But run where? I have learned so much over the years about panic attacks, that I thought I had them under control but I was wrong. Here I was in a full blown panic attack, how could this be happening? After all, didn’t my medication have this horrific symptom of depression and anxiety under control? Now I was really afraid, afraid of returning to an hell I knew I would never survive again.
Life was tough as it were, every day a struggle, every day a challenge. Nothing came easy and I was fighting for my life as it were. I certainly didn’t need anything else to make it even harder. My mornings became my nightmares, I dreaded for my eyes to open, given my present state I didn’t know how I was going to make it through another day. But I knew I had to, there were people depending on me, especially my two children; who became my will to live. Consumed by my depression, anxiety and now once again my panic attacks. I have to survive, somehow.
My nights have become my reprieve, it seemed a cloud would lift once evening came and darkness settled in. I felt if I made it past daylight then I had survived another day. I longed for bedtime, for I knew sleep would help me escape this never ending battlefield of my mind.
So how do I survive? I have to believe I will get well; I done this before and I will do it again. Please God! You have to talk to someone, don’t suffer in silence, so I tell Lisa (my wife) what’s going on. Then it’s back to my psychiatrist who increased my effexor from 300mg to 375mg and just hope that this increase is going to work, now it’s a waiting game. But while I wait it doesn’t end there, I visit my family doctor who orders bloodwork to make sure there’s nothing physically wrong that can cause these symptoms. Next its finding a good therapist, which I did, and now starts the cognitive behavioral therapy once again. Has scary as all this is for me I know I have to keep moving forward, being gentle on myself and taking baby steps. To help my progress I also go for a 30minute walk, I do a lot of self talk, self affirmation and just believe I’m going to be okay.
This journey has been anything but easy. I have to believe there is a higher power that is going to walk this journey with me because there is nothing that feels any worse then feeling you are alone. With my family support, medical support and spiritual support; I WILL SURVIVE!
I sit in my office desperately trying to catch my thoughts as they race around my head in a halo of madness. Fighting this war of the mind seems like there is no end. Suffering from clinical depression and major anxiety has left me in survival mode, trying to make sense of my broken mind; and yes, it’s broken. It took me a long time to come to this realization, that it’s okay, I’m not a lunatic, I’m just ill. On days that I’m feeling I’m losing this fight, to remind myself that I need to be kind to myself. Just as I would if I had a physical illness because at it’s most fundamental, depression is a physical illness. It’s an illness that affects an organ of my body called the brain and it’s ability to work properly, just as diabetes is a problem with the organ of the body that we call the pancreas. And when I look at it in that light, it makes me feel more ‘normal’ and my depression is an illness; not a character flaw or a personal defect.
My heart goes out to all those who are suffering from this horrible illness. Especially those who have little or no support and those who are suffering in silence who are ashamed to tell someone, in fear that they would be looked upon as weak. This is not an illness of weakness but of constant torment that physically drains your body to a point of exhaustion. So let’s stop looking at ourselves has weak and realize we are strong and courageous because if we weren’t, we would never survive.
I know this illness steals from us the mere glimmer of hope, light and joy; the fundamental aspects of what life is made of. If we lose hope, we are left with nothing, if we cannot see the light we are left in darkness and if we lose our joy, we will drown in sadness. Today I want to encourage those who are walking this road of discouragement caused by depression and anxiety that there is hope, there is light, there is joy…. there as to be!
And lastly I would like to leave you with this prayer by Saint Francis called; “Peace Prayer Of Saint Francis”. It is my prayer too, may it be the prayer of all our hearts;
Lord, make me an instrument of peace :
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I
may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
I often thought throughout my lifetime that there was something that was just not right. Even as a child I had emotions and thoughts that a child need not have. I would worry over the least little thing, I would often cry myself to sleep; but why? Anxiety flooded my being, even when I didn’t know what anxiety meant. Behind those big brown eyes, there lived a child in despair, a child dealing with what should only be adult worries and concerns. Looking back over all those years, I realize today that I struggled with a mental illness, even then as a child, I suffered with a broken mind. And sad to say, that little boy still struggles today. There was never a cure, never did my wounds heal and what did heal left unimaginable scars.
Fifty-seven years have come and gone, yet today I’m still struggling; fighting an illness that is genetically hidden in my DNA. Not unlike someone that was predisposed to some other neurological, physical or psychological disorder/disability. I may not be confined to a wheelchair, but none the less; disabled. Depression and anxiety changes who you are, the person who I was is long gone. Now I have to accept my new ‘normal’; a normal that is so far from anything but ‘normal’. A normal that I hate but so far out of my control. I struggle so much just to do the simple things, that once I just took for granted. Just driving my car, the anxiety that creates would stop me from driving at all; if I let it. It may not stop me but it sure limits to where I can drive. Then there’s the anxiety of being in a crowd, I can’t breath, I’m overwhelmed, but no one knows because they cannot physically see what I’m feeling inside. Those are just two examples of what someone experiences who struggles with an anxiety disorder, and believe me there are lots more.
The news came once again recently, that someone I knew died by suicide. The tragedy in all of this is not only the passing of this person but the stigma, the shame and the judgment that comes with it; and that’s the biggest tragedy of all. We are so quick to pass judgment, when in reality that is not our place to do so. Majority of people that die by suicide are certainly not in the frame of mind to make such a decision if they weren’t suffering from some form of mental or neurological disorder. The disorder has changed who that person really is and was before their illness. So please let’s not judge anyone, because no one is exempt, no one! But let’s console those who are grieving, and allow them to grieve with respect and honor , without shame or embarrassment. That would be the thing to do, every life matters, so be kind and compassionate.
So today I live on, I fight with all that is within me. I try to help those who are struggling themselves, to help them see that maybe tomorrow will be better, just maybe.
It seems like summer is flying by and before long the kids will all be back to that hateful word they call, “school”. But having said that, both Logan and Lauren just love school and are anticipating going back, I think Lauren loved it so much that she would have skipped summer holidays altogether. Now as their parents, I think we are kind of looking forward to getting back into a routine and a scheduled daily practice. Whatever the case, before we know it Fall will be on the horizon. Maybe one of the most beautiful seasons of the year with it’s exquisite array of earth tone colours blanketing the landscape all around us.
For now, let’s stay in the summer season and not wish away the time. I certainly wouldn’t do that, I wish summer could last forever. This has been one of the better summers I had in a long time, mentally speaking, not saying that it hasn’t had it’s share of struggles and challenges. The Spring and early Summer for me was a tough time, my mental health wasn’t what I would call great; I was fighting just to be okay. It got to a point where I knew I had to do something medically or if not I was spiralling downward into that dark hole of despair. As I already alluded to this in my previous blog, my doctor did prescribe 2mg of Abilify to my already existing regimen of medication.And to my amazement I believe it has helped me in a way that I have more energy, I now want to do things, I don’t have that hopeless and helpless feeling of utter grief. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not doing any cartwheels but neither am I nonfunctioning; there are some things that I now can do that I couldn’t do before. And sometimes it’s those little things that matter the most, the things that most people probably take for granted. But for someone like myself who suffers from chronic depression and anxiety, every little thing matters so much. The reason being, that in a moment all of that could change. But that is why I live in the moment or at least I desperately try to. I try not to dwell on the past or the future but I live for the moment because really that is all we are guaranteed and all that we really have.
Having a predisposed genetic mental illness leaves you with that fear that you are not totally in control of your own mental health. Yes, you can do everything right, everything that is medically available to you, everything that you know that could improve your mental health but there are no guarantees. Although I’m feeling okay right now (I didn’t say perfect or great or cured); I’m okay. But down in the recesses of my mind lurks that ever present monster, just waiting to pounce, waiting to devour you and leave you mentally drained and exhausted.
I live with that fear every day, does that fear always win? No, but on bad days, days that I have no control over; I lose my battle. But then I start all over again. And that’s what I have to do; start all over again! Never give up, never give in! Fight!
Ten years have flown by since my mental breakdown in 2012. And for those years I cannot recall having what I could say was a ‘good’ day. Everyday was a struggle, everyday a fight, everyday a battle to just survive.
The past couple of months had me in a frenzy, I was in a state of panic, a fear that I was getting worse or even on the brink of a relapse. I knew I had done everything possible to keep my mental health at a functioning level but I realized I was loosing this war once again. And I was heading back to hell but I was determined never to go there again.
So I took matters into my own hands and realized what I had to do at this point to prevent a relapse. I wasted no time in making an appointment to see my doctor. I sat in her office and unleashed my bent up emotions and talked to her about every thought that was causing my brain to race like an hamster on a spinning wheel; running but going nowhere. She listened with an undivided attention, soaking in every word. She was listening!
Once I was done my ‘speech’ and looked at her with the eyes of a dying puppy; she knew I needed help, I was desperate. My heavy eyes told a story of horror and hopelessness. But she reassured me that it was going to be okay, that there was hope. Her advice to me was to first start by increasing my mirtazapine, which I had no objection to. Nothing else was working for me and I was totally helpless, drowning in a sea of despair. But this was going to be my first plan of attack; to increase one of my medications.
Two weeks went by, I felt nothing, no change either way. I knew deep down that this wasn’t working. After a little over three weeks I could take it no more, something else had to be done. Once again I made a virtual appointment to talk to my doctor again. She knew before I could even tell her that this wasn’t the answer. The next tool from her toolbox was to add another antidepressant (Abilify) to my already existing maxed out Effexor; I was at the maximum dose that a patient could take. So she decided to cautiously try me on a very low dosage (2mg) of Abilify. I hung up the phone and prayed to God to please let this one give me at least a little relief; a little was better then none at all.
To my amazement and optimistic anticipation, I felt something that I haven’t felt in years. I was and still am afraid to get my hopes up, to be hopeful because I have had my hopes shattered so many times over the past years. I will take this one day at a time. If I get a good day here and a good day there, then I’ll take it. Anything is better then what I had lived with for the past ten years. But this medication seems different, almost like nothing I experienced before. It has settled my racing mind, maybe even giving me a feeling of hopefulness. But deep down I’m scared, scared that this is not going to last, that it is all just wishful thinking. But I pray I’m wrong and this medication really is going to be my miracle, my light in the darkness, my sunshine in the rain.
Even if this reprieve doesn’t last, I will remember this short but amazing sense of freedom from my mind, even if it’s only for a few weeks. My heart is filled with so much gratitude and thankfulness that my cup overflows. Is my days of fighting this horrible illness over? I don’t know but today I’m having a ‘GOOD’ day and as the tears flow down my face, for once they are tears of joy. Like any illness, we are never guaranteed a complete cure; there is always the fear of it’s ugly return. But for today I’m having a ‘good’ day!
Summer surrounds me in all her glory, but why am I feeling the freezing cold of winter? Why can’t I just for this once just soak in it’s brilliant rays, relax in the warmth of the summer season? The brighter the sun shines, the more my restless mind spins out of control. Mental illness is fatal and I’m fighting for my life. Everyday, sunshine or rain makes no difference, I have to fight to calm this war within. I am tired, I am sick and tired of this disorder. When will it end? When will this war be over?
Sometimes I’m so preoccupied with trying to help others that I forget to take care of myself. Most times I feel I have to be well because I have so many responsibilities and demands to care for others, that I forget I need to be well for me too. If I’m not well then how can I be of help to those around me, especially my sweet Lauren, who depends on me for most everything.. I need to be present for her. no matter how I’m feeling, a really bad day or not, there are no exceptions.
I desperately try everyday to be the best that I can be and lots of days I fall short. Mental illness has stolen so much from me that there’s so little of me left to give. But I do what I can with what I have. Writing as sure been one of my greatest avenues of expressing what mental illness is and helping to unleash my untamed mind. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother, are my thoughts and writing just falling on deaf ears. As this all been in vain?
What is to follow is a presentation that I was supposed to present at one of my book launches, that never happened. To say I was disappointed would have been an understatement. I wasn’t angry about it, I was hurt. For someone dealing with mental illness; this could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was so easy for me to just give up, there and then. But I didn’t and here I am telling my story once again. You may say, “Why bother?” Well here are my reasons to not give up writing, maybe I can just help someone. -In any given year, 1 in 5 Canadians experience a mental illness. (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health). -By the time Canadians reach 40 years of age, 1 in 2 have or have had a mental illness. -Young people aged 15-24 are more likely to experience mental illness and/or substance use disorders than any other age group. -People with substance use disorders are up to 3 times more likely to have a mental illness. -June 17, 2021 – More than 700,000 people die due to suicide every year. (World Health Organization). -Suicide is the fourth leading cause of death among 15-29 year olds in the world. -About 4,000 Canadians per year die by suicide – an average of almost 11 suicides a day. -Worldwide, every 40 seconds, a person dies by suicide due to depression!
These are reasons enough to write; to write a blog, to write a book, to share my thoughts and experiences on my mental illness. My writing will not change the world, but it will help change my little part of the world. It will make me feel; I have done my part. I have done something!
Imagine, just imagine you woke up tomorrow morning and you felt nothing but helplessness, hopelessness and despair. Well that’s what it’s like for us who suffer from a mental illness, especially those with depression.
I’m not a doctor, I’m not a psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, none of these. But I am someone who suffered from a mental illness for all my life. This lifetime with mental illness has provided me with a vast knowledge and experience that I would never have learned in a book or gained otherwise; I know first hand. Before you stands the face of mental illness. No masks, no put-ons, no pretending; nothing but the truth. The shameful secret. the silent killer, a broken mind. Total transparency! I cannot cure you, I cannot fix you but I can assure you that ‘I GET IT’ and you are not alone. Remember everybody’s story is different. This is mine!
I don’t remember not being on an anti depressant medication for my whole adult life. I was 16 years old (1980) when I had my first breakdown. But in 2012 I had a mental breakdown that deemed me non-functioning, a walking corpse, crippled and disabled; not confined to a wheelchair but equally disabled. A brain that shut down, a body that refused to move. During the next few years I tried every medication out there, every cocktail of drugs available to the medical field. Nothing was working; NOTHING! ECT – Electro convulsive therapy was my last hope of escaping this living hell. But much to my dismay, it did not work. I now had lost all hope of ever getting better.
I kept pushing forward, I had so given up on life. I did not want to live, this illness had taken away my desire to live. This was not living, I was barely surviving. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. I fought with every ounce of strength I had in me to fight this beast I call mental illness. I eventually fought my way back to somewhat of a functioning level. I began to write and found this to be a great source of therapy. I began to blog. It was here you would find what was going on inside this broken mind. Each blog captured my thoughts right in the moment it was written; raw, true, transparent and painful. It was through these writings that I eventually created my book; Beyond The Door – A Journey Through A Lifetime Of Mental Illness.
It is through my writing, my artwork and my faith; that I have found a channel to survival. While I constantly struggle with my illness, I have hope that tomorrow will be a better day. I couldn’t always say that and there are still days when it’s hard to believe but everyday I strive to live and help educate others, break down walls of stigma that have for years, made mental illness such a misunderstood and taboo illness. The shame associated with it, sadly keep many from seeking help. I hope to put a face to this illness and keep sharing my personal story to help others.
If this book (available at Amazon.ca) doesn’t give you a new perspective and break down some walls of stigma, then I have failed as an author. But I know this book will do even more! It will stir within you a desire to know more, more about this illness, more about this machine we call the mind!
Imagine if you woke up tomorrow morning to a complete feeling of utter hopelessness, helplessness and despair. Imagine that no matter how hard you try to get out of this dark hole of despair something within your brain/mind keeps pulling you back into this black hole of helplessness and hopelessness. Every thought is an effort, every action feels like an impossibility; you feel totally disabled. Life is happening all around you and you feel like you are suspended in midair; just watching, having no control. This has been my mornings for the past few weeks or maybe I should say years.
When I feel the onset of these thoughts and feelings, I fear that they are an indication of a relapse of a breakdown. And this is something that cannot happen, if there’s something that I can do to deter a relapse of the magnitude of my past breakdowns, then I must do it! There is the danger that I could not survive another shutdown of my body and mind. In my past experiences with the treatment of my illness; I feel little hope. Especially being diagnosed; treatment resistant. My life since 2012, which was my last total breakdown (meaning, deemed non-functioning) has been a struggle everyday. Some days worse then others. But one thing I know for sure, although I am highly medicated, I still fight to have an okay day.
Having a mental illness with no cure, is frightening in itself but realizing within myself that there is very little help in my case, certainly exacerbates my situation. It certainly leaves me feeling hopeless and helpless, and that’s how I’m feeling right now. And that’s why I’m writing today: I feel there’s nothing else I can do, writing certainly helps me to express my feelings and thoughts, no matter how horrid and fearful. Sometimes I feel I’m writing a fictitious story about somebody else’s life but to my dismay, this is my own non fictitious life story.
Imagine you wake to another morning and your first plan of attack for survival is, self talk. Self talk has been a tool that I have used to bring me through many very dark days. Self talk is where you repeat a mantra, an affirmation over and over again in your mind. Hoping that eventually you can convince your brain that you are going to be okay. My mantra for this morning is, ‘It’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay’. I just hope I can convince myself of this and I really am going to be okay. I have to be okay, I just have to be okay!
Imagine that this is your life and you feel you are losing control of your health and your life as you know it. Imagine, Imagine, Imagine! What would you do?
It’s mid afternoon on a beautiful sunny day; I’ve been tortured ever since my eyes were opened to this new day. I knew something was different about today, something more then usual. I felt scared, scared of what? Scared of my own mind and where it was taking me! Most days I can control my thoughts, but not today. My mental illness, my depression, my thorn in the flesh had unleashed its fury and I was in for a fight. A fight that I was afraid I would not win!
My feet hit the floor , I assumed position, knowing I had to face another day. But what was so bad about the day? I was alive, I had a great family, life could be a lot worse but my mind didn’t care about all the good stuff. It only wanted me to see the bad, the ugly, the dark and scary stuff. I tried with all that was within me to distract my dark thoughts but they were winning and I was afraid of where I was heading. Was this going to be a place that I could not pull myself out of. A place that I had no control over.
I hid my shame, my weakness, my fear. On the inside I was a wreak, fighting again this lion within. While on the outside I was a picture of health, a ball of energy, as I meticulously manicured the lawn; just like ‘normal’ people do. But I was feeling anything but normal as I tried my best to be just okay.
There seemed to be no end , the dark , distorted thoughts were holding my mind captive and I just could not escape. No amount of distractions could free me, even for a moment. Were these the same thoughts that invaded the mind of the young lady who tried desperately to take her life but did not succeed or the young man who felt he had no other options left but to end this hell, once and for all. I can’t say I don’t understand why they would do such a thing. I would be the last to pass judgement, the last to question why?
I am so sick and tired of this mind disorder, so tired of this chronic, hellish torment. Hate is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel toward this illness. It is the only illness I know of that steals your desire to live; you live in a body that the mind is trying to kill, a slow, silent death. It sucks your will to live out of you, to a point where life means nothing to you anymore. It makes me angry because someone with cancer are fighting for their life but someone with severe depression is just wanting to die!
I want to live life to the fullest, surviving is not living and when you suffer a mental illness; that’s all you are doing, just surviving. Major depression has taken so much from me, it has stripped me of my self worth, my confidence, my zest for life, my memories and time that I will never get back. And for that, I hate depression, I hate what it has done to me. But I still fight every day, no matter how exhausting, I will fight til I can fight no more. Never giving up hope that one day I will tame this beast of my mind! Hope is what keeps me going, hope is what gives me the will to fight.
Mental health matters and so does each person with a mental illness. We are not alone, 1 in 5 Canadians suffer from a ,mental illness of some form or another, I believe that over the past few years, especially during Covid, that we are in a mental health crisis. Mental illness has no respect of persons, no one is exempt, no one! Mental illness has touched the lives of all of us, whether that being ourselves directly or someone we know.
