“It gets better” is a phrase commonly associated with dealing with depression, anxiety or bullying. It’s three simple words that have kept so many people going on their worst days — including me.

For nearly five years, starting when I was 13, I struggled with feelings of depression and anxiety. I chose to keep my depression to myself because I felt I was being annoying or needy by sharing my feelings. I also was embarrassed to feel the way I did. Throughout middle school, I did a pretty good job at coming off as a carefree, happy person. For a while, I actually felt happy again. I figured that hormones and the changes that come along with middle school was the reason for my sadness, and I thought that they were going to go away forever.

I was wrong. When high school started, those feelings I thought were long gone came back, without any warning. If depression was an ocean, I was drowning without any life preserver or ship in the night to come rescue me. I found it impossible to keep up in school and getting C's on report cards and D’s on tests and quizzes became a norm. This caused friction between my parents and me, especially my dad. I fought with my parents constantly and there was always tension between us. They thought I was just unmotivated, but the reality of why I was struggling to pass classes was much worse.

I was afraid, absolutely terrified, of people finding out. For years, I did everything I could to suppress these feelings, to the point where I became a person I didn’t even recognize anymore. I shut myself out from friendships, stopped going to football and basketball games (both of which are big social gatherings at my high school) and spent my nights locked in my room, watching "One Tree Hill" on Netflix and pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

At the beginning of my senior year, things started looking up. I was actually somewhat happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in a long time. I started applying to colleges as an early childhood education major. I hung out with my friends after school and went to the first football game of the year.

Halloween and Thanksgiving came and went, and I still felt pretty good. I was waiting to hear back from college, working 20 hours a week at my job of over a year, and was doing well in school. The funny thing about things like anxiety and depression is that even when you don’t feel them, they are always there. One day, those feelings will resurface, usually without warning, and they’ll make you wonder how you ever believed they’d go away.

For me, that day came a few weeks before Christmas. For some reason, something in me decided that enough was enough. I had come too far to let myself slip back into my old ways. I told my parents everything that had been going on in my mind over the previous five years. Naturally, they were shocked, upset and a little angry I had waited so long before opening up, but with their help, I got the attention that I needed. I felt relieved and like the biggest weight had been lifted off my chest. I felt hopeful and optimistic for the first time in years.

Today, I am halfway through my second semester at a college that challenges me every day and has given me the best friends I could ever ask for. I talk to my parents every day, and I am getting good grades. The things I never thought I could accomplish a few years ago are part of my everyday life, and I could not be happier with the person I am becoming.

I just want people to know that everything eventually gets better. Nothing in life is permanent. The night will end, the sun will rise and happiness will come again. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help. There are places, people and resources to assist with whatever you are going through. You are never alone.

If you are struggling with feelings described above, or need help beyond what you are getting, you can call the National Suicide Awareness Hotline at 1-800-273-8255.