I’ve always thought that there was something wrong with me, that I was broken. Everyone else seemed so happy in their lives, but for me, I was self-harming and having suicidal thoughts by the time I was eleven. I was so confused – why was I feeling this way when everyone else seemed so normal? I needed answers, but I didn’t have anyone I could reach out to because no one in my life took my feelings seriously. I seemed to be punished every time I tried to open up, so I learned that my feelings didn’t matter. I locked them away and threw away the key. It wasn’t until I was 24 that I finally admitted to myself that I need help, and with the support of my husband, I was able to seek it. Perhaps because I’m a space fanatic, my mental illness reminds me of a black hole; it is this huge, heavy mass of darkness in the centre of my chest that will swallow any light that gets too close to it and it warps everything. But I’m learning it doesn’t have to be that way, and I’m working on freeing myself. Join me as I learn to navigate my way through this darkness.