Not All Pain is Physical

It's been quite some time since I last posted on my blog. Life gets busy, kids get older, jobs come and go and priorities change. This past year, especially the last few months have been difficult for everyone due to the effects of COVID-19.  My daughter, Kate, like many young teens, has been struggling. At her request, she wanted to share her story. I can't think of a better day than today to share with everyone how proud I am to be her MOM. 
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In honor of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, I have decided to share my story, not for publicity or attention, but because mental health is a real issue that affects 1 in 5 people, including me. 

My name is Kate Smith and this is my story... 

It all started when I was a young girl. I shouldn't have had a care in the world. But instead, I remember having a lot of anxiety. I noticed it in the way I would worry constantly, have difficulty falling asleep, and the occurrence of weekly, sometimes daily stomach aches. I have loving parents, an older brother who looks out for me, lots of friends, good grades, and a home with family dinners as often as our schedules would allow. I had no reason to feel anxious about anything, but I did. 

For many years my anxiety existed but it was also manageable. For the most part, I was able to enjoy most days. However, as I got older my struggle with anxiety increased along with signs of depression. In early 2019, I realized that I needed to ask for help. I didn't enjoy the things I used to. Most nights I cried myself to sleep and I had no sense of self-worth, which is when the dark and negative thoughts started to creep in. I began to see a therapist but had a very difficult time opening up, and if you aren't willing to open up, you won’t get much out of it. Talking to my parents and telling them how I really felt was nearly impossible. It’s hard to tell the people that brought me into this world and love me unconditionally, how much I was really struggling.

I also have a very strong belief in God. My faith has got me through a lot. I have been blessed to go on mission trips that have changed my life in so many ways I cannot begin to explain. I feel so connected and so free on these trips. The friendships I have created, the connections I have made, and the presence of God have made me who I am.  During my darkest days, I was starting to doubt my purpose and questioned why the God I believe in and trust would just watch me struggle for so long.  I began to question my faith and felt a loss of purpose. This is the moment I realized I needed more help than therapy.

With guidance from my parents and therapist, I began an intense therapy program that required daily attendance for approximately 3-6 weeks, depending on my progress.  I was terrified of going but knew I needed it. I wanted to be happy and enjoy things again. Talking about my feelings and opening up about it is hard enough, let alone talking about it for 8 hours every day.  Slowly I began to share, open up, and take skills I had learned to help myself. I slowly started to feel better. I was hopeful but cautious and reluctant to believe it was possible. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop because that is how it had been for so long. I began to realize that I have learned skills to work better, smarter, harder, stronger, and differently on the bad days. As a result, I am truly getting better. Going through those darkest moments I wasn't sure I could get through it, but I did. Not all pain is physical. Not all wounds are visible. You never know what people are going through, especially during these difficult times. Check-in with your loved ones. Send a simple text saying how much they matter and they are not alone.  For anyone reading this, suffering from anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation, you truly can get through it. This is my story. It is who I am but it does not define me, it is a part of me!