So, as we all may or may not know, October 10^th was World Mental Health Day — a day where the overall objective is to raise awareness for mental health.

All over Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, people were posting about it, whether it was sharing their stories or just offering support. I was surprised to discover just how many people I knew were affected by mental health issues. I admired their strength and courage, but I also wondered why I couldn’t bring myself to post anything, either.

Maybe it’s because people weren’t always so open about discussing these illnesses. I have struggled with mental health issues since I was 13 years old, due to circumstances in my life that left me feeling lost and alone for a really long time. I’ve always been sort of a shy person, but it seemed like I was being brought back to square one, where doing things like going to the grocery store or even to the library sent me into a panic because I didn’t want to see anybody. The thought of reaching out to people to make plans or even just trying to make friends again made my stomach twist into knots because I was sure no one would want to talk to me, much less hang out with me.

Even now, with my 18th birthday approaching in just under two months, I still struggle with certain things... every time I get in a fight with a friend, or even if they just hang out with other people, a small voice in my brain tells me that it’s because they don’t like me, or that the friendship is over. It causes me to become almost possessive of my friends sometimes, and although I do my best to keep it down and not let it affect my relationships, it can get difficult.

I still have trouble putting myself out there and making new friends; however, this might just be the introvert in me speaking. The incidents that made me this way may have happened a long time ago, but I am still living with the insecurity and self-doubt to this day.

But, I also like to be around others and I like to laugh. I hate speaking in front of people until I actually do it, and then I’m immediately comfortable in the spotlight. I’m not afraid to speak out about things I feel passionately about. The point is, although there are times when I’m struggling a lot, there are also times when life is great. And it’s like that for everyone — mental illness or not.

When I was first diagnosed, my mother and father didn’t want me to tell anybody about it. I know this wasn’t because they were ashamed of me, but at the time, that’s what it felt like. I simultaneously did and didn’t want everyone to know; I wanted to explain to them why I acted the way I did so maybe they’d understand, but at the same time, I was scared of what people would think. Would they be repulsed by me, just like I was repulsed by myself? Surely, they would be. Something was wrong with me. I wasn’t normal.

It’s nice to see that these days, people can admit to having a mental illness and not automatically be pegged for the nuthouse. However, we’re not quite at the level of acceptance we should be at in 2016 just yet. I can’t say the D word — depression — without getting odd looks or creating an uncomfortable silence. People seem to think that if you don’t have a dark cloud constantly floating over your head and raining down on you, you’re okay. And I admit, sometimes I catch myself thinking the same thing. Some of the strongest and brightest people I know have admitted to struggling with depression or anxiety or anything and all it does is make me respect them more.

But even now, writing this makes me a little nervous. I know that I am not the dark thoughts that plague me from time to time, or the days where getting out of bed is an unreachable goal. But I also know that people who don’t know these things about me will be reading this for the first time, and I know it might change their perspective about me. They might analyze the last conversation we had, trying to pick out if I seemed depressed or not. And that’s okay. I can only hope that if this does happen, they’ll go back and read this again until it finally clicks.