#NoShameDay I was diagnosed with A.D.D. when I was in first grade, and from then on a lot of my older peers looked down on me as someone who constantly needed help or couldn’t function the same was her classmates could. I often felt worthless because I felt like I was stupid, because I didn'f understand things at the same pace that my friends did and my mind was always somewhere else. I though that I couldn’t do anything–that I would never get anywhere with my A.D.D. and have to live the rest of my life with people who made me feel worse about myself.

In junior year I developed generalized anxiety and depression. I became a lot quieter and began harming myself because I wanted to drown out the internal struggle with myself with external pain. I kept all of my thoughts and emotions to myself because I feared people would leave me but I was only pushing them away. Recently I have begun to have panic attacks, either triggered by bad memories or school. I started to hate myself more because I felt weaker than I ever have. I wanted to kill myself.

But there was hope for me.

I had my friends to help me. My friends who are always there for me when I need them, who listen to me when I want to end it. I had my therapist who wanted to help me out in anyway she could. I had art, music, dance, theatre, and so much more of the world to keep me hungry for adventure and discovery.

I am still finding a way to help decrease the panic attacks and start being more comfortable talking to others. It’s a slow process, but everything takes time. And I don’t want to rush myself like I always have. The world has so many possibilities to offer, and I don’t want to moss out on them.