I’ve always been prone to anxiety for as long as I can remember.

At the end of high school, the overriding sense of helplessness that comes with depression became very real for me.

I found myself in a cycle of anxiety and depression because the familiarity of high school was gone, and a lot of my friends had moved away for study or work.

At the start of university, I felt immense pressure to find new friends, adjust to a new way of learning and do well in my studies. My relationship at the time also broke down and I felt confused, worthless and alone.

For a year and a half, I struggled privately with how I was feeling. I became withdrawn at home and I would avoid my family as much as possible. I started to become suspicious of how I was feeling – something started to feel like it wasn’t right but I didn’t get help straight away because I felt the weight of the stigma.

When things got really bad I started engaging in self-harming behaviours. My close friends noticed I wasn’t doing well but I refused to get help and had plenty of excuses as to why I did not need it. My friends didn’t stop urging me to get help, so I eventually gave in and saw a doctor. My doctor referred me to a psychologist.

Ultimately, seeking help and getting the diagnosis
was the best thing I’ve ever done for my mental health.