Growing up, mental health was just one of those things we never talked about. Within my community, illnesses such as depression or anxiety, or even everyday stresses, were looked at as weaknesses, something you had to bottle inside you or defeat on your own. And I will be honest; I am guilty of once believing the same stereotypes-that people who struggled with their mental health were somehow less capable or resilient. I lived by these assumptions ever since, feeling that if anything similar happened to me, I would simply get over it somehow. Life does not work that way, however, and finally, after a while, I ended up suffering in silence. The burden of all the things was more than I can bear, and then I realized how my beliefs about mental health had been not only wrong but damaging-too much to myself and others.
It wasn’t until I faced my own battles with anxiety and depression that I truly understood how damaging stigma could be. I remember feeling so isolated and ashamed, somehow convinced that I was failing, that I was somehow “weak” for needing help. But in time, through some therapy, support from friends, and my own reflections, I came to learn that struggling with mental health does not make you weak; it makes you human. The shame I grew up with was based on illusions. As I regained my freedom from stigma, self-compassion fostered my journey. Now, I see that there is nothing different between mental health and physical health. And for healing to take place-not just for me, but for everyone-silence and stigma surrounding mental health have to be broken.
Unruly Bodies 
This post really resonated with me. I have historically had a tumultuous relationship with my mental health, one that has honestly gotten worse throughout this semester. The stigma of mental health is something that I think about frequently. Every time that I have a bad mental health day and there is no choice but to function, I battle with my inability to conceal my emotions and the social repercussions that follow. Although I know that this is not a sign of weakness but a sign of being a human person, I often conceptualize my bad days as something that is wrong with me. I think your post exemplifies how it is so important to have honest conversations surrounding mental health, as the more it is openly talked about, the more the stigma weakens.
I relate to this! When I grew up there was no one in my family or community that ever discussed their mental health. I honestly don’t think they believed in depression or anxiety and only believed that those who struggled with mental health were those with major or severe problems. This stigma towards mental health that we learn when growing up in our community has so many negative impacts that affect us greatly in the future, just like your story. I hope with time communities will begin to learn of the negative impacts stigma on mental health can have on people and kids in their community. It will probably take some time for this to happen but I believe with the rise in awareness on social media and other platforms many are already learning of the stigma towards mental health. I’m also glad to hear that you got the help that you needed! : D
I resonate with this deeply, except that in my family I was the first person to experience mental illness that manifested with such visibility and obviousness. Honestly, when parents and older family members don’t go to therapy, their children have to do twice the healing work. To be fair, my mom gave it a shot once. But the middle aged, white lady she spoke to was condescending, and judged my mother and her marriage and her parenting through White American cultural norms. She never went back, and I don’t blame her. AAPI youth actually have higher suicide rates than other minority youth, probably due to so much internalized trauma and pressure to be perfect. I want to be a therapist so I can be the resource I and my community never had growing up.