For someone who has everything, I have never really understood why I could be so sad. So anxious. So angry. My life is great. My family is great. I get to study at my dream university, and date the most wonderful boy in the world. But, in my mind I was never really deserving of the things God has given me.

I am constantly questioning why everyone deems me good enough.

Maybe if someone had realized I was dealing with severe depression and anxiety in the 6th grade, I wouldn't be as mentally and physically unstable as I feel now, at 19. Even when I'm on the top of the world, I'm sad. It never goes away. My mind and my body are constantly at war.

I'm tired.

But lucky, that I get to wake up everyday to fight.

My thoughts are on a broken record player on repeat, never ending. Once I'm sad the mood last for weeks, sometimes months.

I'm annoyed that I'm still sad over things that happened in 4th grade, but that's depression.

You over analyze, and then you cry. And then you regret wasting your time being sad, because every moment on earth is of value.

Parts of my personality, and the way I interact with the world hasn't changed since the 6th grade.

That's scary.

But for someone who was abused, I guess that's pretty common.

I want perfection, even though I know that the people who love me will still love me if I fall short. I want love, even though I have trouble accepting all the love everyone thinks I deserve. I want a good nights rest, where I don't have a nightmare about my abuser, but mostly I want peace.

For every step forward I take, I take two steps back.

Would my life have been different if someone would have realized I was being abused? Would my life have been different if I had been honest about certain things?

I grew up learning that love was being compared to your sister. Love was being reminded that you were not good enough for your own father, and should be thankful for the man who took you in as his own. Love was being thrown down a stair-well for failing a class. Love was hooking-up with as many people as possible to feel some sort of sexual validation.

Love was shit.

And now I'm 19 and in love, and I have no idea if I'm doing it right.

Battling depression is tough shit. I don't want this. I hate waking up sad when I have 10000000 things to be happy about. I hate the anxiety that comes when I hear the tone of someone's voice changing slightly, or how I can be devoted to one thing and then all of a sudden have no feeling towards something I was passionate about for the majority of life. I hate the headaches and the lack of hunger, and the constant tears. I hate what I have become because of my mental illness.

When I was first diagnosed in the 11th grade, I was angry. I had just come clean about my abuse and was sent to live with my mom. For months I felt bad about coming clean. I wanted to take it all back. I deserved the abuse. I wasn't a good daughter, I was ruining his life.

But I didn't ruin my abusers life. He ruined mine. He gave me scars that will no doubt last a lifetime, and a mentality about myself that has been hard to break.

However I've made a lot of progress. I joined the Army National Guard, started studying politics and doing things for me.

Until I was sexually assaulted at basic training. For every step forward there's always two steps back. People ask me how I provoked the man who sexually assaulted me, if I was wearing something provocative, and usually why didn't you keep your legs shut?

All I want is to serve my country, and someone took that away from me. I have no backup plan.

But everything is going to be okay at some point, right? It might not be tomorrow, next week, next month, or even next year, but God has a plan for everyone.

The abuse I endured and the sexual assault have gotten me down alot more than I would like but life is a learning process. I am sad that these experinecs have defined the majority of what my life has been but also proud that it has in turn taught me so much about myself.

Depression sucks but I'm strong, and so are the millions of people who struggle with it everyday. All I ask is that your patient with us, don't push for answers. You'll be surprised to see how we open up when we feel safe. Remind us that our voice is valid, that you hear us, and that you care.

Depression is a headache, and something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Every on is fighting a battle you know nothing about. If it hadn't of been for so many people who had a smile and open arms to share with me, I doubt I would have made it this far.

Thank you for standing with me on the best and the worst days and reminding me all the reasons I have to wake up in the morning.