I wake up in the morning and wait for the rush of racing thoughts to fill my brain. I wait for the swirl to begin: I need to do this, I need to do that, this isn’t done yet, what if this happens. I keep waiting, and the thoughts never come. I feel a sense of calm. My heart isn’t racing. My chest isn’t tight. I can think clearly, without thoughts constantly racing through my brain, for the first time maybe ever. This is the day after I started medication for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

I’ve put so much pressure on myself to be perfect and succeed, I’ve experienced anxiety and depressive symptoms over the years. In fact, my psychiatric diagnoses have centered around anxiety and depression the past six years, and I’ve gone to therapy and tried many psychiatric medications trying to be well. But all these years later, even after trying all the medications, I’m not well.

I haven’t always been a “bigger” girl. Back in high school, I ran cross country, and I was average-sized if not straight up skinny. Looking at old pictures, I barely recognize myself. My arms, my face, everything was just so much smaller. I’m not that girl anymore. Now I am the big girl, the plus-size girl, the girl who can’t find clothes to wear because the sizes don’t go up large enough. And I don’t feel great about that.

***TRIGGER WARNING*** The following blog contains references to suicide and gun violence. If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. In the U.S., call or text 988 or chat 988lifeline.org. For countries outside the U.S., visit findahelpline.com to find your local crisis line.

My hands hurt. Pretty much all the time. My rheumatoid arthritis makes my hands hurt and my feet hurt and well, basically everything hurt. For me, and anyone else who suffers from chronic pain, it is a big deal, and it affects my quality of life. I hope this article can either help you feel less alone or help you start to understand what it’s like experiencing chronic pain every single day.

Crisis helplines provide free and confidential emotional support to people in suicidal crisis or emotional distress 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, call or text your local helpline 24/7 (988 in the U.S.; findahelpline.com for other countries). If you’ve never called or texted a crisis helpline before, it can be a little intimidating. What can you expect when you contact a crisis helpline?

What comes to mind when you think of self-care? Taking bubble baths, exercising and eating nutritiously? All of these things can be great self-care strategies, but for me, self-care is about not pushing myself beyond my limits. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way how pushing myself beyond my limits can be incredibly detrimental to physical and mental health.

My eyes pop open. I check my phone, and it’s 1 a.m. I lay in bed on my back, staring at the ceiling. I’m not anxious. I have no racing thoughts or chest tightness or worry about the future. I feel calm. And yet I can’t go back to sleep. After awhile, I get up and start organizing my linen closet. Before I know it, it’s 3 a.m., and I’ve just spent two hours in the middle of the night organizing towels and shampoo backstock. This insomnia is one of the side effects of my mental health medication.

“Hi, I’m Marcie, and I struggle with anxiety and depression.” This is how I introduce myself every Monday night on my virtual support group. It’s become a habit now, but it never gets easier admitting your mental health diagnosis to a group of strangers. Even writing about my conditions in this blog for you — and the world — to see is terrifying. What will people think of me? Will they think less of me? Will they judge me? This is the stigma around mental health.

I’m lying in bed in my pajamas, day-old makeup under my eyes. My hair is unwashed and unbrushed. There is nothing to eat in the house. I’m running dangerously low on shampoo. Yet I can’t make myself get out of bed, much less go to the store and pick up groceries and the essentials. I convince myself I don’t really need these basic human necessities and go back to bed where I don’t have to face the rest of the world. This is the day I realized I had depression.