Being an Asian American, I think it makes it even more difficult to talk about mental illnesses because of our traditional cultures, how we are raised, the model minority myth, or just in general not being taught to talk about our feelings. I know most Asian families don’t believe in mental illnesses, or they’re in denial, or uneducated about it, or there are families who don’t believe we need medications. There’s so much stigma around mental illnesses, or Asians feeling ashamed that they need to hide it and stay silent.
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As long as he lived, he never knew we actually did have something in common. We both had bipolar disorder.
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My first experience with depression started back when I was in year 10 at school in 2014 when my step dad suddenly passed away on Christmas Day.
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My story, my passion, my pain, and my recovery.
When I was young, I was happy. I was a free spirit, known by my family as, 'the wild one.'
But I was also determined, and eventually, my determination became a vulnerability.
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I have struggled with anxiety and depression for last couple of years. I am at a much better place now and have learnt and continue to learn better ways to cope with it.
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I was not happy a lot of the time. I also was not the best behaved student at school, as I was constantly getting into trouble and sent to the office.
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My name is Jessie and I am a Mental Health Warrior.
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My experience with depression and bipolar disorder first started at the age of 15 when I was a freshman in high school. Around that time I first started to experience suicidal thoughts.
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When I was in 7th grade I started experiencing symptoms of anxiety and depression due to struggles that my family was having at the time.
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My life isn’t perfect, it has never been and it will never be. It goes up and down like waves in an infinite sea.
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On March 3rd, 2014, I made a decision that would change my life forever.
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Depression began pretty early in my life, but nobody around me was aware of how I was feeling and I found it hard to express my thoughts and feelings.
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My illness began at nineteen years old. This was the first time I experienced my depression.
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I was just entering my Freshman year of high school and I was homeschooled at the time (it was a brief four month stint. I won’t get into it).
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I have experienced Generalized Anxiety Disorder ever since I was a child. I don't remember if I knew I was different from other kids and I'm sure I thought everyone was the same way.
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Last year, when I began receiving treatment for Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), it hadn’t occurred to me that I was trapped in a nasty cycle of physical and mental health neglect.
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On July 26, 2013, I woke up around 6:30am. I was tossing and turning and the whole room was spinning! I kept running to the bathroom across the hall because I felt I was going to be sick to my stomach but nothing would happen.
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I have had depression the majority of my life starting at ten years old.
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I had been a victim of physical abuse as a child and was exposed to drugs and alcohol through my father, who was/is an heroin addict.
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I've always known that something wasn't quite right with the way my brain functioned.
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