May is a special month dedicated to mental health awareness, and I feel compelled to share my story. I hope that by doing so, I might encourage others in our community to be open about their struggles with mental illness as well. It might sound like a cliché, but I truly believe that the time to talk about mental health is now. It has been too often shrouded in stigma, largely because it isn't something we can see like a physical ailment. People can't take a lab test to determine their mental health, which makes compassion and understanding even more essential.
I was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder and bipolar disorder at 19, and now, at 40, I’m finally completing my college courses which will enable me to sit for the board of certification exam for MLTs. I’m incredibly proud of this achievement, especially given the hurdles I’ve faced along the way. Yet, there was a time when I didn’t feel this way. As a child, I dreamed of being a doctor. I recall playing with my Mickey Mouse doctor's kit, diligently "treating" my siblings' stuffed animals and dolls. Back then, school was a struggle for me, but by high school, I turned things around and was excelling in my classes. It seemed like I was finally on the path to fulfilling my childhood dream of working in medicine. But graduating from high school came with its own challenges—I had a hidden battle with attention deficit disorder and bipolar disorder that I didn't even realize I was facing. Failing calculus in my senior year turned my world upside down, and the F I received felt like a heavy anchor dragging me down. My parents had to convince the headmaster to let me graduate despite it.
Fast forward to April 2004, during my first year at Xavier University in Cincinnati. I found myself in a dark place, and the college counseling clinic felt like it was offering no relief. I spent my days isolated in my dorm room, often lost in tears or sleeping more than I should have. I genuinely believed my life had come to a standstill. In a moment of desperation, I reached out to my father, pouring out my feelings and uncertainties. He dropped everything and came to Ohio, bringing me back home for two weeks in a behavioral health facility. It was there that I finally learned the truth: my feelings of laziness and sadness stemmed from a chemical imbalance in my brain. I will forever be thankful to the two psychiatrists who listened to me and helped me pinpoint my diagnosis.
After a year of therapy and medication, I began to feel more like myself. Yes, there were setbacks and hurdles, but I was determined and managed to graduate college in 2010. After college, finding a job proved difficult, so I worked alongside my father at the newspaper company he managed for 12 years. Then in 2022, I faced another blow when I was laid off due to industry cutbacks. At 37, with no spouse and no children, I felt lost. The friends I had made at work were suddenly gone, and I sank into despair once more. But sometimes, even the faintest light can guide us out of darkness. My mother's older sister, a retired medical laboratory scientist, became a source of inspiration during this tumultuous time. I called her, feeling uncertain about my future, and I’m so grateful I did.
She encouraged me to apply for the MLT program at a local community college, and it changed everything for me. Now, I’m on the verge of graduating from this program, inching closer to my dream of working in medicine and helping others. Along this journey, I’ve encountered amazing, supportive people in my life and program who have lifted me up in my battle with mental health. It feels like this path was meant for me. I may not know why I had to struggle so with mental health issues, but I’m glad I did. It led me down a long, dark path, but now I’m beginning to see and believe in the light. I truly appreciate that light now and it’s giving me hope for a bright future as I enter the field of laboratory science. Sharing my story has been healing, and I hope that by doing so, I can remind others that they are not alone in their struggles. Seemingly, in the most unexpected ways, there is “light” at the end of the tunnel. Don’t be afraid to share your story, we all have one.