I’ve dealt with mental illness since the age of 12. Over the years, I’ve suffered from depression, OCD (Intrusive thoughts), Trichotillomania, Social Anxiety, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, Chronic Insomnia, PTSD, and Generalized Anxiety.  

Life has not always been easy, and I’ve suffered a great deal, but I’m thankful I’m alive and well, and transparent enough to tell others about what I’ve been through.

So here’s my story of how I overcame darkness and discovered the light:

At age 12, I endured the trauma of witnessing my grandmother have a sudden and fatal heart attack, and then one month after that, my family moved to another town where I didn’t know anyone.

I didn’t adjust well to my new surroundings at all and the seeds of mental illness grew quickly.  

I dealt with extreme social anxiety and some bullying and felt disconnected from my peers both at church and school. My social anxiety about church was actually so severe, I eventually abstained from going altogether. Even riding past the building gave me feelings of dread and intense anxiety and sadness. 

In turn, I retreated within myself and questioned myself and what was wrong with me.

Why did I seem so different from everyone else? What was so weird and strange about me?  Why can’t I connect to others like everyone else?  

The thoughts constantly struck my young mind like a sledgehammer, and  I remember the day my brain changed, and my intrusive, worrisome thoughts began.  I was 15, and I had no idea that the constant, unwanted, scary thoughts I was having had a psychological definition. 

I just thought I was going crazy and that I was the only person on earth dealing with the issue. 

I didn’t know how to share my concerns with anyone, so I walked around distressed and miserable 24/7. 

People would ask me what was wrong, but I didn’t know how to share my world with them.  The thoughts literally took over my brain and spiraled out of control, but at the time, there was no diagnosis or treatment. 

I’d cry alone in my room, and I’d developed the idea that I wasn’t going to live a very long life because of the anxiety, stress, and depression I was dealing with. 

I was like this all through high school.  And I think it was high school where my Trichotillomania and obsessive scalp rubbing started. The OCD seemed to subside some when I went to college, but the depression I felt at that time more than compensated for it because suicidal ideations began to occur.

At age 23, after my first year in grad school at NYU, I was hospitalized and placed in the mental ward in FL for depression and anxiety for a week after suffering a severe panic episode and psychosis; just four months after being taken to the ICU for pneumonia.

I was so depressed in grad school, I just stopped taking care of myself, and my body got extremely sick during the winter. The pneumonia caused me to hallucinate and behave strangely, but thankfully I was taken to the hospital, and it was discovered that I was ill.

I just remember waking up in the ICU, not being able to breathe.

When I went to the mental ward, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my sense of reality temporarily lapsed. I was talking crazy and saying some bizarre things.  I was like a robot experiencing a system overload, going haywire.

I had to be sedated and on my first night, and I was placed in the schizophrenic wing.

The next morning when I woke up, a couple of doctors came to my bedside and asked me some questions about my mental health history.  They were baffled to learn that I’d had no prior mental health episodes. 

I disclosed some of the traumas I’d experienced in NY, and I vividly remember a doctor saying, “I don’t think you’re schizophrenic or bipolar.  I think you’re just really depressed.”

Fortunately, I wasn’t Baker Acted and they released me after about week. 

I can’t go into detail about all of the trauma I experienced in NY, but it was severe and my brain and body just couldn’t handle it for a time. 

When I went back to school for my 2nd year, people commented on how sick I looked.  I’d lost over 20 lbs in a very short period of time.

My sleep had also become very irregular in my first year due to stress and late night cram sessions in the library. 

At one point, a school psychologist diagnosed me bipolar because of my sleeping patterns, but in the past 10 or so years of dealing with different psychiatrists and therapists, no one since has ever given me that diagnosis. So I think it’s fair to say that I was just having a very very very hard time.   

I had very little hope for full recovery after my stint in the mental ward, and I often entertained the thought of suicide because I lost hope that my life had any significance or value. I was positive that happiness had become a festered, dried up dream.

My ability to function normally was seriously impaired due to the overwhelming anxiety and depression that stalked me from sunup to sundown. There were times where chewing food just seemed like too much work, and my body ached to the point where I literally just couldn’t move.  

I had a constant irrational fear of disaster and ruin, and I felt fundamentally disconnected from life.

While it seemed that all of my peers were traveling, having fun, falling in love, and building their futures, it felt like I was constantly on the brink of another breakdown and hospitalization.

My panic attacks were merciless, often being so severe that I literally thought I would die. My heart pounded out of my chest, my hands turned red and went numb, I had intense hot flashes that almost felt like I was burning from the inside out, and it was hard to breathe.

 I felt like Sandra Bullock in the movie Gravity, spiraling in a panic further and further away from life.

There were times where my fear literally kept me apartment bound.  I was afraid of leaving my NY apartment, being out in the world, and taking the subway for fear of having an episode in public. So I would turn the AC to freezing and do my best to not have a panic attack indoors…

Sudden panic would arise out of nowhere, just walking down common streets like Broadway, and  I had panic attacks in stores and movie theaters.  I had a really bad one in a Crate and Barrel in NY, and a store associate had to walk me to the NYU student medical center. I wanted a classmate to meet with me there, but there was no one I knew that could help me at that time. It was absolutely agonizing. I can’t really express it in words.

It was pure agoraphobic torture on a daily basis just trying move about the city and attend classes. 

Grad school was already stressful enough, so I don’t know how I managed it when I had such extreme mental health problems.  Through all of the pain, I STILL managed to graduate with all A’s on my transcript. 

I tried staying in NY after graduation, but my anxiety was so severe, I was forced to move back to FL permanently to live with my parents.

 When I moved back to FL,  I had an extreme fear about driving alone and having panic episodes on the road.  I couldn’t drive more than 30 min in any direction, and I was terrified to be left in the house alone for any period of time. 

There were times I couldn’t even take a shower without needing my mom to sit on the toilet until I finished because I literally could not be alone!

 It’s just amazing that despite the daily unrelenting torment I experienced for years, there was always something that propelled me to keep moving forward, and it never let me give up.  

Even when, at age 26-27, I developed chronic insomnia (which lasted about 5 years),  and I’d made the decision to take my own life at age 31, God divinely intervened… He derailed my plans in a way that left me speechless, and propelled me to keep moving.

Today, after over a decade of medication dependency, I am medication free.    

I tried all sorts of spiritual things to treat my mental illness over the years, including energy healing, Reiki, counseling from psychics/priestesses, etc.  However, it wasn’t until I truly accepted Christ in my life a few years ago that I saw the most powerful changes not only with my anxiety and depression but in my character as a whole.

I truly feel that God has removed the spirit of fear from my life, and He’s equipped me with power and love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).

I believe that the best treatment for any mental illness should be holistic, including caring professionals AND  a strong spiritual foundation. 

For me, that spiritual foundation is God through Jesus Christ.  

Looking back at my worst days, I realize that I had no functional understanding of what Christianity was.

I was agnostic and searching for a good while. 

I was skeptical and judgmental about church and God.

I experimented with different spiritual practices and fads and sought validation and solutions from psychics and other forms of divination. I was trying to battle all of life’s problems on my own through trial and error, and I believe being in that state exacerbated my mental health problems.

Even when my symptoms started to subside after a few years of treatment, and the medication had stabilized me, there was still something missing.  

I still struggled to find meaning and purpose in life. I still didn’t know how to have faith in the absence of anxiety, and I still didn’t have a spiritual conviction. 

I’m so thankful that I was open enough to seriously consider going to church.  I’m thankful God placed people in my life who ministered to me and told me, “You don’t need these crystals, and  you don’t need Tarot.”

I’m glad someone encouraged me to read the Bible for myself and pray.  And I’m glad I listened.

Deciding to lean on God’s Word was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.

He’s filled in all the missing pieces of my heart, soul, mind, spirit, and character.  And He’s brought forth miracles in my life that I never thought were possible…

The night my grandmother died, my life changed.

But before she fell ill, she handed me a plaque with the Footprints poem engraved on it as she was cleaning things in her room.  She told me to memorize it because I would need it throughout my life. 

Sure enough, I look back and see that oftentimes there were only one set of footrpints in the sand. 

God was carrying me when I didn’t have the strength to walk on my own.   And I’m so thankful I have a relationship with Him now.

I hope and pray you decide to walk with Him too if you haven’t already made that decision. He’s amazing!

Sincerely,

Alexia