My depression probably started in middle school where I have been bullied from beginning. 

My illness began at nineteen years old. This was the first time I experienced my depression.

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.

As long as he lived, he never knew we actually did have something in common. We both had bipolar disorder.

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.

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. 

On March 3rd, 2014, I made a decision that would change my life forever. 

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).

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. 

I have had depression the majority of my life starting at ten years old. 

I've always known that something wasn't quite right with the way my brain functioned.  

My experience with mental illness really started around my freshman year of high school around thirteen years old. 

I have PTSD from a childhood trauma that I have never really dealt with. As a result, I experience severe flashback, depression, and anxiety. In addition, I also struggle with Borderline Personality Disorder.

My experience with mental illness started January 2016. I didn't realize that I was suffering from depression until my family brought it to my attention out of concern for me. I was slowly shutting down in all aspects of my life.

I had always been an anxious child, but I was not diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder until I was 15.

I was diagnosed bipolar type 2 in 2009, as well as PTSD, C-PTSD, panic disorder w/o agoraphobia, anxiety, and ADHD. I've also been fighting chronic migraines since 1999. 

My anxiety and problems handling stress started sometime during high school. I also have struggled with accepting and handling my emotions since I was fairly young.

I think I always had the signs of an anxiety disorder, growing up with a lot of trauma. My father raised me on his own until I was eight, all while battling a drug addiction and mental illness. 

I had never considered that I might have an anxiety disorder until my most recent therapist decided to keep calling it that.  

I wouldn’t say life having epilepsy is a walk in the park, because every victim is affected in a different way. There are those who have small petite mal seizures, and then there are those who have grand mal seizures that are affected emotionally and physically, like myself. 

From shattering mirrored doors out of rage, to crying myself to sleep, mental illness controlled my life for many years. Fighting against my illness was a long, painful journey, but it has grown me to be a stronger person and has given me the ability to relate to so many people suffering with similar struggles.

Experiencing OCD is like being stuck in a washing machine and not knowing how to end the cycle. You’ll keep doing the same thing over and over without knowing how to stop yourself from doing it. You might be wondering at this point, how is that possible? Just intend to end the task and stop your limbs from moving, right? Believe me when I say I wish it were so. 

I am the mother of a 12 year old boy with PDD. All I can say after 7 years of receiving his diagnosis (after much parent advocacy) is that I'm tired. I'm tired of hearing "what's wrong with him?", "I thought autistic children didn't talk", "he seems normal to me", "he should be able to do that at his age", "what do you want me to do, prescribe medicine?"

My daughter is 24 years old and she has autism and mild mental retardation. When she was sixteen she also developed epilepsy and has grand mal seizures since then. My experience parenting a child with a developmental disability I would call a journey. A journey with many twists and unexpected turns. 

In December 1995 at 7 years old, I was diagnosed with liver failure, and within 6 days I had only 10 percent chance of surviving. The transplant was successful, and ever since then my liver has been fine. 

At 16, I was diagnosed as bipolar, and since then I have been treated with both medication and therapy. Accepting the fact that I will have to take medicine for the rest of my life has not been the easiest task. 

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.

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. 

My experience with Anxiety and Depression started around 7 years ago when I was 14. At the time I was living with an alcoholic mother in an unstable home. There were a lot of fights between my mother and my step dad.

I was first diagnosed with mental health issues at the early age of eight. My conditions were anorexia and ADHD and I spent a lot of time seeing a psychologist and having family therapy. 

I started having bipolar symptoms when I was 9 but my family didn't take me to doctor until I was 15.