Usually, my life is an open book. Ask me a question, I’ll give you an answer. However, there is a topic that none but my closest friends have had access to: my history with mental illness.

For those of you who know me, this may come as a surprise. I am very good at hiding just how bad things can get — this includes depression. I can guarantee that the people who were my friends when I was suicidal had no idea that I was ready to end my life. When my parents finally found out, they couldn’t believe it.

I’ve struggled with depression since I was a preteen. At my worst, I had a bottle of pills in my hand. To this day, I don’t know what stopped me from taking them. My anxiety is so bad that I’ve spent nights awake trying to fend of a panic attack because I was worried about a comma I might have missed in a paper. On top of that, I constantly felt wound up, like a coiled spring that couldn’t spring away.

Due to some really bad things that happened in my childhood, I also have PTSD. It rears its ugly head when something triggers a fight-or-flight response that reminds me of said bad things. These triggers can be anything from an in-depth discussion of the rape of a character in a novel, to a red car driving by, to the smell of apple juice. When triggered, my mind shuts down, and I go into fight-or-flight mode. It also triggers nightmares that leave me unable to sleep for days. Often, when the nightmares hit, I wake up and hide in a closet. It keeps me from spiraling into another panic attack.

Today, things are much more under control. I am in therapy and on medication. But I still worry. I still panic. I still get depressed. The difference is that now I can stop worrying and panicking. I can force myself to get up and get out. I couldn’t before. Currently, I’m at the “light at the end of the tunnel” phase when it comes to living with mental illness.

I spent so many years thinking I was alone, thinking no one knew how to help me. I’d have people tell me to “just stop worrying” or to “just let it go,” but it doesn’t work that way. I had no control over what my mind wanted me to focus on. These phrases just reminded me that there was something “wrong” with me.

For those of you out there who suspect a friend may be struggling with mental illness, I understand how hard it can be. What do you say when your friend is deep in a panic attack and you don’t know how to help? It’s scary for you too. The only thing I can say is be there for them. Listen to their worries. If they seem to be losing control, mention it.

For those of you living with mental illness, there is hope. There will be a point where things will look better. It will take work. It will hurt. But I promise you, there is help out there and the results are worth it.

Reaching out, admitting you need help, isn’t weakness. But for some reason there is a societal belief that mental illness should be hidden under the rug and fought off alone. I can’t speak to whether or not mental illness can be treated by yourself — mine certainly couldn’t. But I can encourage you to seek help. The Counseling Center on campus is one option that is free to students.

All in all, no matter how dark the tunnel of mental illness gets, there is a light at the end. Sometimes, you just need to ask someone for a flashlight to help you get there. Sometimes you need to be the one holding the flashlight for a friend. Either way, the tunnel ends, and the road continues.

Kjerstine Trooien is a staff writer for The Dakota Student. She can be reached at [email protected].