It’s a question I often ask myself. Should I be honest? Lay all my cards on the table? Do my closest friends and family need to know every little detail about my struggle? If I did tell them, would they even care? Or would they just give me the generic responses I’d heard my whole life? “Everyone feels like that”, “No one likes work, you just do it”, and the ever popular “Man up!” After all they probably have their own issues to deal with, right?
From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always struggled with my mental health. As a child, I suffered with insomnia brought on by anxiety. This would manifest in a range of worries; “What if my parents get a divorce?”, “What if I can’t pass that spelling test in school?”, “Will I ever develop super powers?”. As you can see these were some pretty serious concerns. Ones that a six-year-old boy certainly...
Original source: Depression does not define me
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