I was officially diagnosed with “mental health issues” when I was 18 years old (although I had been suffering silently for years beforehand.) Once I was “labeled,” I went through over a decade of being misdiagnosed, over diagnosed, and brushed aside. I was judged based on the labels that I had been given that were supposed to bring me some sort of comfort… Then just as I started having relief from my symptoms, my husband left me and my little brother died, all within a year and a half. My symptoms came back x100. To make a long story short, mine is a story of survival, of hope, and of life after tragedy. You can be happy again, and the pain doesn’t last forever. You can find freedom from your illness. THERE IS HOPE!!