Author: Keith Anderson

Worth Living Ambassador Rachel Burridge

Hello, I’m Rachel from the United Kingdom and I am 22 years of age. I have been on a journey with mental health for seven years now and facing the stigmas and hush hush around it. I will recover from my illness while helping others to recover as we all go on the journey together.

At Primary School,  I was always the energetic, bubbly, nothing can get in my way and stop me kind of girl. I would literally put myself up for anything no matter who laughed or put me down, I wanted to be known and heard. Any camera that was pulled out in front of me, I wanted to be doing funny dances or taking pictures with it. That was who I was.

When I was moved up to high school, I was so excited for the new possibilities it would bring and the new friends I would meet on the way. I could not wait! I believed high school would change my life for the better, how wrong I was.
Everyone got the odd snigger or comment, you can’t avoid that with a bunch of new people. I was prepared for that but I was not prepared for how far some people were willing to go to put me down. It started as they bullied me for my lazy eye, that I wore glasses.  “Specky four eyes” they would shout and “are you looking at me?”  It hurt deeply. I had never really given my eye condition a thought before or that my glasses made me different. Then I decided to find myself a bit and experiment with my looks in year 9, 2 years into school. I dyed my hair black from mousey brown, but in return I was presumed a goth or ‘emo’ was the most used name. I was never known by my name only by my “flaws”. Within a couple of years of trying to get on with school and concentrate on work it finally got too much, I wasn’t eating, sleeping, talking to anyone, laughing, smiling…I wasn’t me anymore I was lost!

The bullies picked up on this and saw me as weaker than ever. They decided I no longer deserved to be alive, that I wasn’t worthy of being here.  I was told this daily. One day in class a student unscrewed a blade and passed me it and told me I deserved to feel pain…that was the beginning of a long road to recovery. Schools don’t know how to deal with bullying. They pass the victim around to different classes as I was to avoid ‘disturbing the lessons’ for them. They never worry about what the long term damage to the victim will be or punishing the bullies for what has been done, which in turn makes the victim feel like they are the problem.

Seven years on, these people who ruined my life and stole my identity from me live happy fulfilled lives forgetting any knowledge of what they did. For anyone out there reading this don’t suffer in silence like I did, call the bullies out and seek help. Bullying destroys lives.

I feel almost like I have lived two lives as two different people now all because someone found it funny to look cool in front of their friends and be popular.

Worth Living Ambassador Sarah Gobeil

Hi world, I’m Sarah.  I’m an odd, energetic ball of dancing wonders. I love to make others happy and to influence the world in the most positive way I can. I also really like to smile.  Smiles are contagious, please show me yours.

I will be the first to say that I have not lived through it all. I have not experienced all that life has to offer me at 16 years old. In fact, I probably haven’t lived a quarter of my time on the earth.

But I can also say that I have lived. I lived through ups and I’ve lived through downs, just like everyone.

When I was five years old, I would have never thought that I would one day look in the mirror at my dance class and be absolutely disgusted. Fast forward 6 years; that was my reality. I was 11 years old and I didn’t want to go to dance because I thought I was fat. Eleven years old. Fat. A young, pubescent girl’s absolute worst nightmare.

It’s amazing how one small thought can lead to a time of such disaster. I so soon found myself questioning everything I put in my mouth. Will this make me even fatter? Will I look like a whale after this? Will people look at me weird if I eat too much? Will people look at me weird if I eat too little? My mind was constantly focused on food. Spinning around and around.

Life has a way of throwing curve balls, and somewhere along the way a 13 year old Sarah discovered calories. Good grief. What a mistake. 1800. 1500. 1200. “Wow I’m doing so good!” 1000. 900. 800. “Why do people say you need to eat so much I feel so good!” 700. 600. 500. “I’m really tired mom…” 450. 400. 300. Starving.

I was 13 years old, absolutely hated myself, and felt like I was a waste of space. The hatred of my own body felt like it would never end. Until I made a decision. I found myself looking in the mirror for literally hours each day. Critiquing all the flaws, blemishes, scars. But one day when I stood in front of the mirror (bawling) I wanted it all to change. I didn’t want to hate myself. I didn’t want to feel the way I was feeling about myself. So as I looked, I picked things about myself. I complimented myself. Eyes. Collarbones. Nose. Waist. I didn’t care if I actually believed what I was saying to myself; I was still saying it. I started to draw things on my mirror – flowers, hearts, birds. I wrote the words beautiful and strong and powerful and kind. Did I fully believe what I was telling myself? No way. But I wanted to hear those things from the most important person in my life; me. And after a while, I started to believe it.

It only takes one step of initiative to make the change in your life that you’ve wanted to make. Nothing in life worth having comes easy, but everything is worth working for. Draw on your mirror, set reminders on your phone to tell yourself that you’re amazing, take a snack break when you want one, record videos of you complimenting yourself and play them when you need it. Loving yourself is all in your hands and it is 100% attainable.

Self- love is not selfish. Self- love does not equal conceited. Self- love does not mean self- centred. Self- love simply means that you are able to recognize the beauty that you were given without doubt.

Self -love is a beautiful thing.

Worth Living Ambassador Ann Ottaway

Ann is a 30 year old former legal assistant, animal lover, and a believer in new beginnings. Ann shares her recovery journey with the hope that her story allows others to realize they are not alone. This is her third post for the Worth Living Blog.

The holiday season is wonderful! It is a season of time spent with loved ones, nostalgia, decorations, great food and gifts!

But to be entirely honest as wonderful as this time of year is, it truly fills me with moments of dread, anxiety and guilt.

At a time of year where emotions are naturally heightened, I am on high alert with respect to my feelings.  Anxiety and guilt are amplified as a result of invitations to parties and family gatherings.  I want to attend all of them so as not to disappoint anyone but I ultimately end up at the whim of my nerves as social anxiety creeps in together with balancing hectic schedules.  I often end up exhausted from going from one place to another and talking myself through intrusive thoughts that make me feel self- conscious and shy.  I consider picking and choosing events but then I get anxious about disappointing and hurting people. Stores are crowded, homes are crowded, people are hustling and bustling and all of it makes me want to just stay home in bed.

The flip side of the anxiety is the joy that comes from pleasant times and catching up with old friends once I am able to ease into a social situation. Once I relax, I have a great time! The excitement of watching friends and family open gifts that I have carefully selected for them is always something to which I look forward. There is always the overwhelming gratitude when I open gifts that were so thoughtfully and generously given to me.

It`s  this back and forth push and pull of emotions that becomes most exhausting. My internal dialogue is along the lines of this – “I should go to that party. Oh but I need to be somewhere else the next day, I’m going to be exhausted. No, no, I should go, she’ll be upset with me if I don’t go. What if she gets mad? Maybe she’ll stop talking to me. Okay, I will definitely go, it’s okay I can rest up later. Okay so what am I going to wear? I can wear my black sweater. Everyone has already seen that, I should get a new one. Oh but I shouldn’t spend the money. Okay, different outfit. This will be fine. I wonder who will be there? Oh no, what if he is there? What if he isn’t? Maybe he’s avoiding me? Ugh, I can’t do this. No, I have to. Okay, I’m here. This is uncomfortable. Are they looking at me? I probably look stupid in this outfit. This person is really nice. This is actually pretty fun! A gift? I love this! This is so sweet, I can’t believe she got this for me! I hope she likes her gift! She does? I’m so happy. This is such a fun night! I’m so tired and I have to do this again tomorrow and then I have to work all week and do my baking and then wrap gifts. Ugh, I can’t do it tomorrow. Her party is so important to her, she’ll be so disappointed”.

Now imagine that all day every day for nearly an entire month!

Self- care tends to be put on the back burner this time of year for many people. These emotions kick in and I neglect self- care at a time when I need it the most. Self- care is difficult for me during the holidays because there is such an emphasis on giving and selflessness.  Self- care and saying “No” seems downright selfish when we are supposed to be spending time with loved ones. But what about time for ourselves?

This Christmas I am giving myself a gift – the gift of self- care. I am pacing myself, I am not saying yes to everything. I am setting boundaries and scheduling time to rest and relax. By taking care of myself I am also giving my best self to others and I am giving quality time over quantity of time. Giving doesn’t have to mean always saying yes, it doesn’t have to mean compromising your feelings for those of others and it doesn’t mean you take from your emotions to give them to others. Giving doesn’t have to be an all or nothing thing.

Worth Living Ambassador Jessica Rodarte

Hi world! My name is Jessica Rodarte. I’m just a normal 24-year-old discovering my purpose in life. I am currently on the pursuit of happiness after being diagnosed with a mental illness earlier this year.  I’ve overcome many obstacles throughout this journey by turning my negative into a positive for others.

I am excited to share that I’m now an official ambassador for Worth Living. Worth Living is a  community of people from all over the world who are creating a mental health initiative. I was approached on Instagram by the founder to become part of an amazing team of people; of course,  I said YES! There is no other feeling then being a part of a community with like-minded people coming together to stand up for something that is so close to the heart. It’s inspiring to speak with individuals who have gone through the same struggles; comforting to know I am not alone. By sharing our stories we are creating a conversation about mental health.

The two simple words “Worth Living” are a symbol of the struggles I have overcome and I’m honored to wear a shirt that represents that. Worth Living has different products you can purchase and a portion of the proceeds are donated to two amazing organizations that promote mental illness awareness. My goal is to be involved in as many organizations as  possible that are starting the conversation in hopes to finally end the stigma of mental illness.

I’m excited to see where this new journey with Worth Living will take me! Stay tuned…”

You can follow my personal blog at Beeing Jess

Worth Living Ambassador Justine McNeil

Justine McNeil is a 24 year old child and youth worker honours graduate from Ontario, Canada. She is a passionate motivational speaker, sharing her personal stories to advocate for mental health as well as creating awareness on social and global causes by using what she has learned through travelling with Me to We to Ecuador, Kenya, India, and Arizona for their Advanced Facilitation Training. She has spoken  at WE Day, events for Me to We, Jack.org, Niagara Public Health, and various schools and organizations in Ontario. In 2015, she raised and donated $10,000 to Free the Children to build a school in Kenya.  Her  work and stories have been published by Stigma Fighters, The Mighty, in various newspapers, and for Me to We marketing. When she’s not speaking, planning her next volunteer trip or working at a local school, Justine enjoys photography, listening to country music and spending time with her family.

Not Just Black or White

People sometimes have a difficult time deciding what to wear in the morning, but for me, so many questions run through my mind before I even think to open my closet door. How confident am I feeling today?  How many times do I want to answer the same question? Am I feeling brave enough to accept my flaws?  You see, I ask myself all these questions because for me, wearing shorts or anything that reveals my legs for that matter, exposes a whole other side of me, a story that not many people would assume or know.

All my life, I grew up not knowing that there was anything different or wrong with what I was doing. Ok, yes, my mom was always telling me to stop or asking me questions, but I used the excuse that she gave me; I have thin skin. Maybe I do and maybe I don’t but either way that is not the cause for the scars that creep up my shins like spider webs, each with their own unique story. Some started as harmless bug bites, others deliberate in a state of anger or anxiousness but none the less, people never guess that the scars left are from acts of self-injury.It actually wasn’t until my second year of college that I realized that what I was doing was actually classified as self-injury. Before my responses to abuse class, I always thought of self-injury as being cutting and burning, but never did I even think that the act I had been doing my entire life also fell into this category. That is when I learned that self-injury is not just black or white.

Every single person has their different ways of coping, their different methods of dealing with the emotions and pain that can come with mental health struggles and one thing I have learned is that we should not judge each other for this.

Over the years I have come to accept my scars and that they are a part of me but how am I supposed to respond when a three year old asks me what is wrong with my legs or when I get constant stares while out in public. It is hard for people to understand, especially when they have not struggled themselves.

Like with everything else surrounding mental health, this is where education is needed. It is needed so that this subject is not just black or white, education so that people know that this does happen more than they realize and education so that people don’t say “why don’t you just stop”.

This is a part of mental health and like the rest,  it is complex but if we all do our part to educate, get educated, support and not stare (as I am sitting writing this in Starbucks I have gotten many stares due to the gauze on my arm) because nothing is just black or white.

You can follow my personal blog J’s Daze

Worth Living Ambassador Jessica Rodarte

“Hi world! My name is Jessica Rodarte. I’m just a normal 24-year-old discovering my purpose in life. I am currently on the pursuit of happiness after being diagnosed with a mental illness earlier this year.  I’ve overcome many obstacles throughout this journey by turning my negative into a positive for others. “

I never had an understanding of what mental illness was until I was diagnosed. Growing up I had a pretty normal life besides my parents’ divorce.  I went to parochial schools from first grade through my senior year of high school. My parents provided the best life they could for my sister and myself. I had a house, a pool, and a couple of dogs;  about what was there to be unhappy?

After high school,  I continued my education and went to college. It wasn’t until after college and being thrown into the real world did the depression and anxiety occur in my life.

At first I guess you could say I was in denial of my condition. As days went on, I began to lose my appetite, over sleep or not sleep at all, lose my motivation to work out, was crying all the time, and just felt like I was ready to give up. In my head, I thought I would get better. I kept telling myself that it was just a bad day. But everyday turned into a bad day. It wasn’t until my family and boyfriend became very concerned of what was happening to me did I realize something was wrong. But still I put it to the back of my mind.

My parents told me that it was okay to quit my job and take time to heal and get the help I needed. I was officially diagnosed with major depression and anxiety in June, 2016. It was scary to hear those words come out of my Doctor’s mouth. I was put on medication and began going to therapy once a week. Honestly, being diagnosed with a mental illness made me more depressed. Having to explain myself to my extended family and friends about my situation was frightening. I didn’t want to be judged, who does? After a few months of dealing with the fact that I have depression and anxiety, I had come to terms with it. I accepted it and was no longer ashamed.

I decided to turn my negative into a positive. I created my blog Beeing Jess  a platform to share my story. I got really tired of people on social media positing how “great” their lives are and portraying a fake reality.

I thought what if we were all able to share our stories the good, bad, and ugly? Why does society put a stigma on showing our true selves? When I posted my first post on Beeing Jess, it was a moment of mixed emotions. I was scared, excited, and calm all at the same time. I felt that a weight had been lifted off my shoulders by telling my story.

I was very surprised by the feedback I had received. All positive. I felt that by being true to myself and sharing my story,  it helped people to know the real me. Social media is an amazing platform to spread awareness. That has been my message since day one; spreading awareness of mental illness and the  importance of mental health.

There is such a huge stigma put on mental illness and it must be stopped! Having a mental illness does not make me any different from anyone else. Life is just a little harder for me to live and that is perfectly okay.

The numbers are 1 in 4 people experience some form of mental illness. So literally everyone at one point in life has dealt with this issue. People need to understand that it is okay not to be okay. Talking about it helps with the healing process. There is comfort in knowing that you are not alone, you are not the only one experiencing this. That is the comfort I try to give others by talking about my journey and struggles with mental illness.

“Don’t be ashamed of your story, it will inspire others.”

You can follow my personal blog at Beeing Jess

Worth Living Ambassador Justine McNeil

Justine McNeil is a 24 year old child and youth worker honours graduate from Ontario, Canada. She is a passionate motivational speaker, sharing her personal stories to advocate for mental health as well as creating awareness on social and global causes by using what she has learned through travelling with Me to We to Ecuador, Kenya, India, and Arizona for their Advanced Facilitation Training.  She has spoken  at WE Day, events for Me to We, Jack.org, Niagara Public Health, and various schools and organizations in Ontario. In 2015, she raised and donated $10,000 to Free the Children to build a school in Kenya.  Her  work and stories have been published by Stigma Fighters, The Mighty, in various newspapers, and for Me to We marketing. When she’s not speaking, planning her next volunteer trip or working at a local school, Justine enjoys photography, listening to country music and spending time with her family.

“My arm is a spider web, my brain is a raging fire and anyone who wants to tell me I’m fine doesn’t know what’s going on in my mind.”

That is what I wrote on November 13th, not knowing that just  four days later my friends and colleagues would be taking me to the ER and I would be getting admitted into the Crisis Stabilization Unit  (CSU) at the hospital for suicidal thoughts.

As I sat in the waiting room, all I wanted to do was run but it was like I was paralyzed by what I had become even though my mind was racing and I was visibly shaking. I kept getting taken back to answer the same questions over and over again all while denying what I knew what was about to happen, denying that I had allowed myself to fall this far. What I didn’t know at the time though was that taking that step, going to the hospital was going to be the best thing I had ever done for myself.

Those four nights and three  days were some of the toughest I had ever had. The small room with no windows made me feel like I was trapped in my own mind; stuck with my thoughts with no way of getting them out. The isolation haunted me like a cold chill that you just can’t shake and each night trying to fall asleep with the light buzzing overhead, the loud noises in the hallway, made it impossible for my anxiety to shut off.

As I spent those days drowning in my thoughts, drowning in the realization of what was actually happening,  those who were supporting me in this situation kept me afloat. It was a time that showed who would always be there no matter if I were sinking or swimming and without them the waves of my emotions may have taken over. My emotions were mixed as it came time to leave as I didn’t know just what my life what going to be like on the outside and to be honest, I was scared to finally face my struggles in the open space of my everyday life.

Things were not easy and I tried to jump into them  headfirst; ignoring the thoughts that were still running through my mind and pushing myself into pretending everything was fine. I thought I was fine, I thought I was ready but the longer I tried telling myself this, the worse I actually got. Until I broke. The details are fuzzy and I’m not sure if the details actually are not there or if I am subconsciously choosing not the remember them, but it was at that point that I learned what rock bottom really was.

Hitting this point and the events of that day are things on which I am choosing not to dwell. They are ghosts that I am not allowing to trap me in a negative mindset. The road moving back up has not been easy, but one thing I have learned is that life is not always going to give you that straight path.

The things I have learned about myself from these experiences are invaluable and I can say that I have grown a new set of wings that are only going to help me to keep soaring upwards.

You can follow my personal blog at J’s Daze

NOTE: If you, a family member, friend, or colleague is experiencing  thoughts of suicide or distress, call 911 now.
Other Resources :

Canada– Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention  www.suicideprevention.ca
USA – National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255
United Kingdom   www.nhs.uk

Worth Living Ambassador Beca Wilson

“Hi, it’s me again, Beca. I have always been the over-protective momma bear and sometimes I forget to protect myself as much as I do others. I am surrounded by wonderful people every day who make it easy for me to feel loved. I aspire to help, even just one person. I want to help them realize that their story deserves to be shared. You matter to somebody”.

To You,

I promise you, it is okay to not be okay. You are allowed to be a work in progress. You are allowed to cry your eyes out on the bathroom floor at work. You are allowed to tell someone that they can no longer be in your life if they only bring you pain. You are allowed to answer with anything other than “I am just tired”, or “I am good”; you are allowed to answer with the truth. You are allowed to let people in. You are allowed to show them the good, the bad and the ugly; if they decide to leave that is their choice and quite frankly, good riddance to them. You are a beautiful work of art. You are someone the world deserves to love and get to know. The bottom line is, you are allowed to not always be the strong one; you are allowed to not be okay.

All of my love,

Me

Acceptance is one of the hardest things I have had to learn.

I have accepted my Mental Health conditions. I have accepted what is ahead for me for the next couple of years. However, for some reason, I can’t accept that I am allowed to let it bother me.  I haven’t learned to accept that I don’t have to be the strong one who protects everyone all the time, Sometimes, the people I am always protecting need to step up and take their turn at protecting me.

On Halloween of this year I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type II, and Panic Disorder. To be honest, I didn’t know there were two types of Bipolar.

My Psychiatrist was very helpful and explained everything to me pretty well. He told me that treating Bipolar with Anxiety can be very tricky and that it may take some juggling to get the right medications in place. He always seems very optimistic with me and doesn’t ever doubt that I will get through this.

The following days were spent withdrawing from one of my major pills that was for my anxiety the most. It was the main medication that stabilized me.  I was also increasing my intake of one pill and introducing an entirely new one into the rotation!  I had been warned that weaning off would show some symptoms of withdrawal but it would be even worse if I just stopped cold-turkey. To say the first week was rough was an understatement.

I experienced some nausea, some disorientation and major fatigue. I had zero appetite and my head pounded for multiple days on end. I was not a happy Beca and it was just the beginning of my tailspin down.

The second week I mourned. I don’t know for sure what I was mourning. All I ever wanted were answers and some kind of explanation and now I finally got it, and I felt extremely alone. I thought my whole world had caved in.

To give you a very brief background, because I am saving ‘my story’ for another post, I have been fighting for my own mental health and wellbeing for years now. I have been facing this on my own, and now I finally had the right resources and I was getting the answers that I wanted. However, I don’t think I wanted those answers after all.

As I continued my tailspin down, I didn’t realize how much I was falling. I went through each day in the perfect routine. I woke up; I went to work; I came home; I went to bed. I stopped going to the gym. I didn’t want to go out anymore. If I did go out, it was either with Kody and very brief or just a short outing on my own. I limited the number of times I would go out with friends. I was slowly slipping back into my depression and starting to push everyone around me away.

I can’t tell you how many times I have been asked if I am “okay”. I was told countless times that I wasn’t acting like “Beca”, what does a Beca act like anyways? I would hear these questions  and comments but they weren’t quite registering with me. They weren’t quite making it to my brain as a flag that something was, in fact, not right.

I carried on like this for a few more weeks. I was slowly starting to crash. I would wake up each morning and just cry. I didn’t want to wake up anymore. I was so tired. There was nothing going on in my life that was causing me any stress; I was just so tired of being tired. I was tired of living. I no longer found pleasure in anything. There was friction between Kody and me because he was trying to help and understand.  I was still in denial that anything was wrong. I felt overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time.

So, that brings us to this week. I am at work and I am miserable, again, not from the work or being there, but because I am just so tired. My anxiety has risen to levels that it was at around the time I tried to end my life. My mind is not slowing down, I am quite certain that if it had not been for my one pill, I would have been up all night with racing thoughts. My heart felt like it was pounding in every area of my body at once. I was nauseous from all the adrenaline I was getting from one of my other meds. I had the shakes and I thought I was going crazy. It was just chaos. I thought I was losing control of my body.

On Tuesday, I had a breakdown. I ended up in the bathroom at work sobbing because I thought this was the end. I thought this is what my life was. I began to realize that all my feelings of fear and loneliness were feelings I knew all too well. I didn’t want this to be my life. I didn’t want to live this way.

That afternoon I went and saw my Psychiatrist and we talked about how I was feeling and he decided it was best for me to go back onto my anxiety pill, at a lower dose, since it had helped me so much previously. I was relieved, I mean, I hate this med and the side effects it has given me but it worked before. It helped me a lot. All I wanted was to feel better, to feel even just a fraction of how I felt this time last month. I wasn’t looking for a miracle cure. I wasn’t looking for a quick-fix, I just wanted to feel ‘normal’ again.

That day, I was taken off work for the rest of the week. I needed some time to just be. Ever since my suicide attempt over five months ago now, I have just been going headstrong. I have been pushing through. I took some summer holidays but they were just as busy as working. I was reaching the end of my rope and I was too afraid to admit it.

I was too afraid to say, “Hey, I am not okay”.  I was too afraid to admit that the strong girl that so many people had said was an inspiration was actually falling apart. I was scared to be seen as weak. When in all honesty, what is braver than admitting you can’t do it on your own anymore.

We as humans have a tendency to put other people’s needs and wants before our own. We tend to forget that we should be our own #1, that our mental health and wellness is the most important thing. We NEED to take care of ourselves. It isn’t a recommendation, it is a requirement.

The fact that it took me almost a month, and my having a breakdown, to realize that I am not okay, it honestly leaves me feeling sad. I thought I knew myself better.  I thought I was beginning to understand my needs. Unfortunately, I haven’t. Over the last few days, I have been using this time to really just listen to my body.

I’ve been spending my days reading lots. Books about love, books of poetry, self-help books, and books for pleasure. I have been watching shows that interest me and shows that are just stupid. I have been in bed until my body says it is time to get up and I have been cuddling my babies like crazy. I have been doing a lot of self-care and just loving myself.
If I was a person who gave advice, which I am not, I would tell you to learn to really listen to your body. Know what your limits are and embrace them. There is no shame in needing help, in needing to take a break. There is no shame in falling down; it’s the getting back up part that really matters.

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” – Henry David Thoreau

You can follow my personal blog at Diary of a 20 Something Normal Girl

Worth Living Ambassador Ann Ottaway

“Ann is a 30 year old former legal assistant, animal lover, and a believer in new beginnings. Ann shares her recovery journey with the hope that her story allows others to realize they are not alone”.

It’s no secret that nutrition plays a key role in our health. I find that I often have to remind myself that this is also the case for my mental health.

When I am experiencing a depressive episode I feel lethargic, fatigued and lack the energy and enthusiasm to prepare meals for myself.  The times when I feel like I cannot manage my emotions, I am left with an overwhelming feeling that I cannot manage many things, self- care included. I sometimes find myself sick to my stomach when I am dealing with anxiety or lacking an appetite during my struggles with depression. This leads me to eat food that is fast, easy, convenient and ultimately unhealthy. If I am able to consume any food at all, it is generally food that is comforting rather than nutritious.

When my depression reached a point where I had to be hospitalized for my own safety,  I learned the importance of nutrition for the sake of my mental health.  It didn’t matter that I had no drive or energy to prepare a meal, food was provided for me.  It was a huge weight off my shoulders! It seems small but consider for a moment the feeling you have when a friend or family member surprises you with a meal that they have prepared for you. It was one less thing I had to deal with and while I lacked an appetite initially,  even just having a few bites of a meal made a difference. A few bites turned into a few more and before I knew it I was eating three full meals a day and snacks. My body finally had nutritional energy to allow me to work on my emotions.

The hospital had a cooking class once a week in which patients could take part and work together to prepare things like baked goods. Cooking was communal again! Participants would work together to prepare a treat and bring it back to share with everyone.  I had forgotten about how important proper meals and nutrition were but I was suddenly reminded that there was a social aspect as well. Meal times at the hospital were an opportunity for me to bond with other patients. We would all gather together to eat, chat and get to know one another outside of our group therapy sessions.

Going home from the hospital meant that meals were not going to be prepared for me but I still had the experience of understanding the impact proper nutrition on my well- being. I planned meals at home and made arrangements with friends to get together for meals. I also prepared freezer ready meals on days when I had energy so that when I have depressive episodes,  I still have convenient and nutritious meals that I can warm up.

It seems simple, but taking a step back from the complications of life and spending some time to do something good for myself each day has a big impact. Treating my mental and physical health as two separate entities is something that I have to remind myself not to do. The mind and body work together and I feel a great sense of pride when I do something to take care of myself, even something as small as having a nutritious meal.

Worth Living Ambassador Alexa Cress

“My name is Alexa Cress. I am 23 and am in love with living life to the fullest. I finally found balance within my own life after battling negative thoughts for years and thrive on sharing my story in the hope it motivates others to keep pushing on their journey”.

We all have things that we want to hide from those around us, whether it be something physically or mentally important to us. I also hid something from my loved ones for years and sadly I was more successful than maybe I should have been.

I grew up in an active family where sports were a daily occurrence and playing with my friends never involved sitting in front of a TV but rather spending the summer swimming or the winters skating. As the years progressed, my love for moving my body turned into participating in physical sports which kept me active every season of the year. Like most things in life, those years came to an end and as most graduates were focusing on what university they were going to attend, I was struggling with how I was going to stay active while in a new place.

That was when my whole mentality around exercise changed. It was no longer fun; it began to control me.

I played University volleyball for a semester but as my mentality weakened, I lost my love for the sport and I became a quitter for the first time in my life. I was so hard on myself, instilling that I was useless and wasn’t good enough. I longed for control. I turned to my consumption of food and my activity levels because those were two things at which I was finally good I realized.

Of course I lost weight, and in the beginning the compliments started coming and people were finally paying attention to me. My body ached for rest but my mind was too strong to let go of this new persona I had created for myself. Like most good things in life, I took it too far and my life became consumed by my addiction to the control I had on my daily life.

In my mind, what I was doing felt 100% normal and healthy, but little did I realize I had commenced a long path of pain followed by depression, anxiety and loneliness.

This behaviour affected so many other things in my life not only my physical appearance. I became a perfectionist; even more of one than I had been before if that’s possible to imagine. I started living each and every day by a routine, a very similar day to day plan which told me what I would eat, when I would eat, and what I would restrict myself from doing.In 2012, my parents finally stepped in and we had the “talk” that should have probably  should have happened long before that. They knew something was wrong and that the healthy lifestyle I was striving for wasn’t in fact healthy at all.

I saw doctors and nutritionists to please my parents but nothing ever came from it. I was told over and over that my eating habits were “healthy” and the term eating disorder wasn’t mentioned once. I’ll be honest, I was good at hiding my behaviours and masking them to make it seem like I was living a completely healthy and happy life. Deep inside I was begging for help but was too stubborn and naive to admit that I had become so weak.

Two years passed and it seemed that every time I would make progress, the next week I would revert back to my negative habits. I needed a change, and I needed it fast.

A week after my college graduation I made the rash decision to flee abroad to Paris for a year. I bought a one way ticket, found a host family and within 4 months I was on my way to creating a new beginning for myself and that’s exactly what I did. I no longer had my monotonous meals and a free gym where  I could waste my days.

This was it, this was the change I needed. I stayed in Paris for a year, and came back physically 20 pounds heavier and mentally better but not healed. Over the course of the next year, I spent a lot of time working on myself, and being patient with the challenges I still had to overcome. I began opening up to my family and asking for the help I needed all along and help is exactly what I got.

I am proud to say that today I stand a good 40 pounds heavier than I did at my sickest and mentally feel on top of the world. Even though the past 6 years haven’t been the best and there were multiple times when I felt like giving up, I wouldn’t change anything about my journey. It’s made me who I am today and as I have inked on my shoulder I truly believe that “without struggle there is no progress”