When I was a little girl, living on the central coast of New South Wales, Australia, I remember laying on our patio sunbathing in my sarong. The song We Are the Worldblasted out of the boombox and throughout our two-story house.
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As mental health advocates, owning our present struggles inspires more hope than implying, through omission, that we no longer experience struggle.
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Anxiety disorder is real. Many of us feel scared and stuck, which diminishes life experiences. I chose to take this bus trip so that I could expand my recovery and learn to rewire my brain by confronting the very thing I feared the most—which is feeling as if I have no control.
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Today will be our seventh move since we’ve been on the bus, and our 100th (I’m exaggerating) manual toilet clean. For an adventure of a life time, I sure am perturbed. My whole life has been about controlling my surroundings, protecting myself from adversity. As I sit on the bus sofa with a space heater at my feat, I beg myself to remember why our family actually is doing this.
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At our first ever event in Dallas TX, we spoke to those going through mental health struggles who had not told anyone. We talked with organizations that advocate for mental health and provide exceptional services to treat it; however, too many people are still buying into the stigma that mental health is a hush-hush issue. We got up close and personal with the happy faces that hide true trauma, and we hugged a lot of people.
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So many of us have resisted sharing our stories because it has felt like too much—too uncomfortable, too personal, too risky. I know I have. But Tim and I have reached a point in our lives where it’s no longer acceptable for us to sit back; no matter how unsettling it is to leave the familiar, predictable, and reliable, we know we must move.
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