Since the age of twelve, I have struggled with mental illness. At the time, I didn’t know it was mental illness - all I knew was that I didn’t want to feel what I felt or think what I thought. I felt anxious, fearful, unsafe in my own body, and as if I couldn’t trust myself or anyone else. 

 

In an attempt to combat the thoughts, feelings, and battles I was experiencing in my head, at age twelve, I began experimenting with self-harm, drugs, and alcohol. I experienced very brief, superficial relief from my pain; however, the underlying sense of unease and discomfort persisted. I couldn’t escape it. At thirteen, having sustained no real relief, I attempted to take my own life.

 

Not being successful, I tried to push the trauma of early childhood sexual abuse to the back of my mind. I tried to ignore and think my way out of feeling depressed and anxious, and I didn’t realize that my addiction and reliance on drugs and alcohol were leading me on a path to full-blown addiction. 

 

During this time, my best friend, my sister, was involved in a life-threatening accident. Due to the severity of my sister’s injuries, my mother and sole caretaker spent two years away from home in hospitals. Her absence left me alone to handle life without the aid of a parent. 

 

These foundational traumatic events and mental illness, coupled with my use of substances, left me fully addicted by the age of fifteen. My drug use expanded and required more and more for me to just feel ok in my body. I couldn’t sleep without them, couldn’t eat without them, couldn’t live without them. What used to help me get through the day became what was killing me. As the years continued, I would attempt to take my life several more times, overdose four times, continue to self-harm, and attend more than eight treatment facilities. Sadly, none of these efforts helped. From low self-esteem, anxiety, depression, suicide attempts, and sexual abuse, I know what mental health looks like. I know the faces it wears and the sound of its voice. I know what it’s like to not believe in myself, to hate myself, to wish I could just disappear. 

 

So many of us feel this way, and yet we feel we can’t or won’t talk about it. Society tells us we are weak if we talk about our feelings. But the opposite is true. It takes a huge amount of courage to share our story. To be vulnerable and share with someone else our truth, to let someone see the real us, who we are behind the mask, what we are struggling with, what we are scared of … that is not weak. That is the bravest thing we can do, and it can lead us to experience the relief we’ve been searching for. 

At the age of twenty-three, having had only small windows of sobriety, my best friend, Marcus, committed suicide.  He was the only person I would honestly talk to about my struggles, and his death felt like it was my own. On the outside, Marcus looked happy. Inside, however, I knew he suffered from the same internal war and battles that so many of us experience. Some are more extreme than others, yet a battle we have all experienced. The battle of I want to say something, but I am afraid I will be judged, seen differently, not accepted, or made fun of. A battle that typically ends with us staying quiet out of fear. I knew I couldn’t stay quiet following his death, and I knew I needed to ask for help. To my surprise, I found not only help but hope as well.

 

Marcus’ death, along with my own suicide attempts, led me to see mental health in a new light. I didn’t want to lose any more friends or myself to mental health. From his death came a vision of how to combat mental health in our society and the launch of the I AM MORE movement. 

 

Something I thought was no big deal became a huge problem in my eyes. Millions of people a day are struggling with their mental health, and they have nowhere to go, no one to talk to, no one to listen to them, no one to say, "I get it, I’m glad you shared, and you’re not alone." This is a huge issue. 

 

Society has a stigma around mental health. We don’t talk about it. It is not acceptable to be honest about how we are doing or to let someone know the thoughts going on in our heads. We are judged, not accepted, seen differently, or made fun of. When we do say something, we are told to grow up, get over it, or that it’s no big deal. We are left with no option but to bury our true emotions, to bury the pain that already is too big to carry alone. The I Am More Movement is created for the people who want to speak up but can’t. It is for the ones who want to heal but don’t have anyone to talk to or anyone to listen to them. 

 

Together we will break the stigma around mental health and make it a conversation in our society. The I Am More Movement is here to create a safe, supportive environment where we can be vulnerable and honest with ourselves and others. We can share the stories of our struggles, our pain, and our triumphs. We can offer one another help, hope, and resources. We do not have to live in fear of being judged or not accepted. We will accept ourselves and show up as we are in full, not just parts of ourselves. 

 

This is how we will heal: by being honest with ourselves and others about who we are. We are not just our struggles, we are not our past, we are not our thoughts, we are not our addiction, we are not our abuse, we are not our mistakes, we are not labels that are put on us by doctors or others, we aren’t even the labels we put on ourselves. We are more. We can do more. We deserve more.

 

I Am More than my mental health diagnosis.

I Am More than my addiction.

I Am More than my suicide attempts. 

I Am More than the labels I have believed to be true about myself.

I Am More than my trauma.

I Am More than my past.

I Am perfectly imperfect.

I Am worthy.

I Am loved.

I Am strong.

I Am courageous.

I Am needed.

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I AM MORE!