While everyone around me shared their enthusiasm about the school year coming to an end, a part of me, or at least what remained of me, was becoming increasingly disconnected from the rest of the world and my intuition.

On the surface, nothing in my life indicated that something was terribly wrong within my mind. My first year of college was filled with many successes, from securing an assistant position for the director of Hispanic initiatives at DePaul, studying abroad in Miami, and meeting new people. It seemed like people all around me were happier for my accomplishments than I was for myself.

I felt extremely anxious all the time, and my relationships with my family and friends were deteriorating as a result. There were weeks on end when I wouldn’t speak to anyone, and I even went weeks without speaking to my mother. Getting out of bed was torturous. My body always ached, and there were many times when I had to cry myself out of bed. Because of this, I began to miss school frequently, opting instead to sleep for hours on end. My eating habits had also taken a hit.

For many, staying in, watching movies, and ordering pizza is an indulgence that happens occasionally. But for me, this became an everyday and weekend routine. I turned to comfort eating as a way to cope with how I was feeling. My declining health led to weight gain, and the fatigue further damaged my self-esteem. And if it wasn’t binge eating, it was excessive drinking.

I had developed a drinking problem in high school that had persisted into my first year of college. Because it was socially acceptable among my friends and peers, I found a way to cope with my mental issues by escaping into certain substances.

But my vices began to get the best of me. Although I was feeling at my worst, I knew something had to change quickly. During a casual conversation with my grandmother, I was reminded of the impact my life decisions had on others. I realized I was not just living for myself but to prove to the many women in my life that there was more to the legacy we carried. I wanted to be someone, regardless of the path I chose, who made my family proud. With their faith in me, I knew there was something great destined in my future, a brighter future where dark days didn’t dominate.

So I decided to visit my college’s counseling office. There, I began having biweekly sessions with a therapist who helped me navigate these isolated times. I must admit that it took a lot for me to continue with the sessions, primarily because my pride inhibited me. This was all very new to me. Although my parents had raised me to be proactive about my physical health, mental health wasn’t given much importance in my family. But I also didn’t want to live a life where I depended on substances to cope with my feelings.

After a few sessions, my therapist began asking about my interests, and it was hard to remember what they were. It had been a long time since I had truly dedicated myself to something I genuinely enjoyed. I then mentioned my love for writing and how exercise had always kept me proactive. So, he recommended that I start writing in a journal to express my feelings and to formulate questions for myself that I could address during our sessions.

Then he suggested that I put on my running shoes, not necessarily to run immediately, but to take small steps in adopting positive habits in place of my vices. He recommended running as an effective way to stay active and reduce stress on my mind.

“Put on your shoes and just tie the laces. See how you feel with your shoes on one day, and then take them off. The next day, try walking around in your shoes, and then see if you’re confident enough to take a walk outside in them. And once you feel ready to run, just do it,” he said with a smile.

I didn’t think much of his suggestion, but I began to notice that putting on my shoes made me want to take a stroll around my block. Within a few weeks, I started running. I began with short distances and gradually pushed myself to run further. Running reconnected me with myself and provided a time for me to connect with God. Many times during my runs, I would pray that every drop of sweat would carry away the negativity clouding my mind.

It wasn’t an easy journey. There were times when I relapsed and stayed indoors for a week straight. But journaling helped clear my mind, and when I mustered the courage to go for a run, I reminded myself that every drop of sweat released was a step toward ridding myself of my demons.

To this day, I run almost every day. Running helped me break through my mental health stigmas. However, please don’t take my story as the only way to navigate your own experiences. I believe that by staying true to what makes you happy, without harming yourself or others, you can overcome any challenges, both mentally and physically. So, go out there and find your passion. Even the smallest change in your daily routine can contribute to a happier life. And if you can’t find one, take a moment to stroll around a park or your neighborhood block. Remind yourself of how beautiful it is to be alive.

In honor of World Suicide Prevention Day, if you know anyone going through a difficult time or if you need someone to talk to, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Remember that you are strong, and you always have been. Stay golden and have a blessed day. ✨