I’ve survived my struggle with mental health for seven years.

I am a visual storyteller, a singer who loves to dance, and a film enthusiast. At 15, I was diagnosed with panic disorder, and at 18, my psychiatrist suggested that I may have dysthymia, a high functioning form of depression.

I remember times when I would lie on the floor in my room for ages, and stare blankly at the ceiling. I once realised that I could not really walk in a straight line on my way home from school. I was light-headed and my chest felt blocked, to the point that every breath of air was hard to take.

I knelt in the secret space of my room countless times, crying out to God for the grace to endure my struggles. However, it came to the point where I could not see any reason or purpose in persevering through life. Outwardly I showed faith; however, on the inside, I became angry and eventually bitter towards God.

I was hurt by comments like, “It’s okay, it’s just a phase”; “God says do not be anxious about anything …”; the worst was from one of my closest friends, who said, “Don’t you know that you are diverting the attention away from friends who really need it?” These were ‘Good Christian Girls’, but through my journey of healing and self-discovery, I realised that even saints are not perfect, so I have given those wounds to God. But I went on to poly thinking that what I had experienced, like what these people said, was “just a phase”.

However, the panic attacks only became stronger and I was no match to fight against them. My depressive symptoms started showing up in Year 2 of poly, when my body finally gave way to my dwindling mental state.

After five years of listening to well-meaning but unhelpful advice, I eventually snapped. As a result, I took two semesters off from school in mid 2018. Counselling, medication and the empathy of amazing, God-sent people helped me to get my engine going and move again. The process of struggle and recovery is still ongoing and some days I feel that I am getting better, while on others I feel like I am not.

One misconception about counselling is that you will see the results the moment you start going. However, my counsellor said that most clients only see progress by their eighth session or after! I used to feel drained after each therapy session, as I felt that I needed to keep talking about my life to my counsellor. However, recently, I felt comforted by her when she told me reassuringly, “You know, you don’t have to speak. Would you like me to leave the room for a while for you to rest?” I was shocked and touched, but I kept a poker face. I’ve realised that healing can take time and is an arduous process, but I have also learnt to be patient and kind toward myself.

I sometimes feel like I am fighting a losing battle. But I think that’s where the beauty lies — my inner turmoil has pushed me closer instead of further from God. In my weakness, I am forced to run to Him. I am reminded that He is holding me. I may have to live with this for my whole life. But you know what? I will live this life ‘breath by breath’, knowing that each breath I take, whether painful or not, is given by Him — and if He allows me to have that breath, then His story for me is definitely not finished yet.