There was a time when my mental illnesses crushed me. The weight of the secrets I kept suffocated me slowly, and day by day, as I suffered in silence, the dark thoughts and feelings grew stronger.

I was ashamed of who I was, of who I had become. More than that, I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I spent many months in a treatment program, embarrassed that while my peers were at college living their lives, I was hospitalized in a psychiatric treatment program. Each day that I spent there without coming clean to my friends was a lie. A lie of omission.

When you are released from the treatment center I was a part of, there is what's called a stoning ceremony. You are given a beautiful handmade clay heart, and everyone passes it around and offers you words of encouragement. As mine passed the room, almost everyone said that I was brave. That they wanted to be strong and courageous like me, that they admired me. Not just the patients, but the treatment providers. I was floored.

How could someone shrouded in secrets be brave? I was nothing to be proud of.

Except I was.

That night, I took my first steps towards becoming an advocate. I went home and posted on Instagram, a picture of my "stone" with a caption telling the beginning of my story.

The support was overwhelming. With time, I became more and more open about my struggles as I overcame them. People began messaging me and thanking me for sharing my story, as it gave them hope.

My therapist invited me to speak as a recovery speaker at the program I was once a patient in. She pushed me to realize that there is a certain freedom in breaking the silence and sharing your pain. She taught me that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is be vulnerable.

So now I am, I am vulnerable. I tell my story, and I don't sugar coat it. It's been a long, hard, uphill battle. But I'm nearing the top of the hill, and I want to bring everyone who's still at the bottom up with me, so they can see the beautiful sunrise that is a life worth living.

I want to make people proud and I want to inspire people. More than anything, I want to give people hope.

But I cannot lie to you. I cannot say that I never struggle. I cannot tell you that I bounce out of bed every day with a smile, or that every time I pass a mirror I love what I see.

I wish I could, but I can't.

What has made me so strong and so inspirational is that I have fought my battle, and encouraged others to do the same. Just because I am in a healthy, mostly happy place, does not mean that I don't still have hard days.

There are times where I hold on, counting down the days till my next check in with my dietitian or therapist. There are days when I look at myself and I see nothing but fat covering my body. There are times when I exercise that I don't simply enjoy feeling my body move, but rather brutalize it in the name of vanity.

I am strong. I am courageous. I am inspirational. BUT, I am NOT perfect. Not by any means.

I hope that you read this and feel some hope. That the knowledge that someone you look up to in terms of their recovery still has hard days. Because that means that you don't have to achieve perfection to get better. It just means that you have to learn to cope.

Recovery and mental health is not a cure-all solution for your pain and problems. That comes with time and hard work and dedication. It is a process, one full of ups, downs, and insane twists and turns. You will have good days and you will have bad days. Eventually, the good days far outweigh the bad and you can look back with a smile, knowing that you made the right choice when you chose to fight for your life.

Hold on for the day that the sun rises and you eat your favorite meal after a beautiful day spent outside with friends doing your favorite things. That day will come, I promise.

Be strong, be courageous, be inspirational, accept that you have flaws, and most of all, know that there is hope for all of us.

You can do this.