by Annie Greaney
Even before I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression and anxiety, I found peace in music. Through this organized and sometimes unexplainable noise I am able to find silence. Even though I have started therapy, nothing has yet to compare to listening and expressing myself through music, especially when I find myself becoming un-grounded. Continue reading
by Tiffany Dyer
I’ve struggled with mental health my whole life, as far back as middle school where a teacher actually recommended I see a doctor for depression. I saw a medical doctor who ran a blood test and said I didn’t have it. I had no idea what depression was. I can’t remember going to more than three or four therapy sessions at a time and haven’t ever been able to find a therapist who is upfront with me or that I trust. Continue reading
by Jessica Fantini
Though my story isn’t pretty, I am more than willing to share it now. I believe with any story you have to start at the beginning; here is a short version of my background so the rest of the story makes a little more sense. I’m the youngest of two in a single parent household. My parents were never married and separated before I was born. I grew up on welfare, and we had Salvation Army Christmases. We were poor. Every time I asked my mother to buy me something, she told me to be patient and wait because maybe we’d be able to get it next time when it was on sale. Continue reading
by Sean Grube
As many of you may know, my lovely partner, Kristen Abell, is a persistent advocate for mental health in the student affairs field. She’s extensively documented her own battles with depression. I’ve been asked to talk about what it’s like to be a partner (hopefully a supportive one) to someone that lives with depression.
by Kristen Abell
I started writing about my struggles with depression on my personal blog in 2007, but it was several more years before I outed myself to the student affairs community. I can still remember the churning in my stomach and the cold sweat I broke into after hitting “publish” on my post. I can remember the overwhelmingly positive response I got from those who commented, shared, or emailed me privately to thank me for the post. I also remember the silence from people I had hoped and thought would respond – in a way, that spoke louder than the comments from those that supported me.