Sonder: Youth Mental Health Stories of Struggle & Strength | Page 51

Just Speak
By Krista Netherton
For everyone it’s different. For some people it’s weights tied to
their ankles, for others it’s a dark ocean wave dragging them
below the surface time and time again. It can be a bully, tripping
you while you walk and tugging your hair while you try to focus.
But for almost everyone affected, it is a daily struggle.
Even though they are depicted commonly in the media, there
are whirlwinds of stigma surrounding mental illness. Mental
illness is a cunning, versatile enemy of many; yet so many
people have almost no understanding of it. Most people
struggling with a mental illness are diagnosed, prescribed
medication, and then sent on their way. They later get asked
how they’re adjusting and have no idea how to respond because
they have inadequate knowledge of their own personal enemy.
I was eight when I was first diagnosed with depression,
I didn’t even know what it was. I didn’t understand, and
nobody explained it to me. My mother just kept giving me the
medication, and saying it’s what I needed to feel normal. I didn’t
know what “normal” was. My depression was a neutral party,
lying dormant until I reached middle school. Then, it hit me,
and it hit me hard. I was twelve the first time I took something
sharp to my skin purposely.
It was the internet that first gave me the idea for self-harm, as
well as gave me the tiniest bit of knowledge about my mental
illness. I still didn’t understand why I had depression. I lost
myself in self-harm, and eventually starved myself for months
on end. I hated myself, my mind, and every aspect of who I was.
My mom would take away my razors, scissors, thumbtacks, and
hid the kitchen knives, but I would always find a way.
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