Camille M.
Photography by Katie Fox
If you’re reading this, your story is valid.
I grew up in a traditional and loving household in Plano, Texas, just about the world’s poster child for life in suburbia. My parents worked hard to give me the best possible upbringing - the second-best public school system in the country, the best dance studios in town, private lessons with the best volleyball coaches DFW had to offer were constants in my early life. I did everything, I seemingly had everything together, and yet, even from an early age, I constantly felt a deep sense of something missing - even in my happiest moments, I felt subconsciously dissatisfied and empty.
For the longest time, I pushed these feelings aside because of my immense privilege and opportunity as a young white girl living in a neighborhood where I could walk alone at any time of the day or night. Even in my darkest moments, I was constantly convincing myself that my feelings were me being dramatic, me being ungrateful, me being naïve. I knew there were millions of people out in the world that had it so much worse than I did, and I felt like a fraud or an attention-seeker for the way I felt when I had never undergone any type of serious trauma or experienced any great loss.
It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I finally let myself admit that there was something going on in my life, and that that something wasn’t me looking for attention. I realized that I couldn’t be looking for attention when I felt empty both alone and with others, when I felt dazed sitting alone in bed, when I found myself pulled over on the side of the road hyperventilating for reasons I couldn’t articulate. Even though my previous diagnoses of clinical depression and generalized anxiety disorder were ones I could comprehend logically, I finally let myself believe that my diagnoses and my feelings were worth the time of day. I realized that I couldn’t let myself not be okay because other people in this world also aren’t okay. I finally understood that I needed to get serious help for what I was going through - that if I was going to keep moving forward, the self-loathing, the panic attacks, the dissociations, the negative self-talk had to end.
By no means was this moment a complete 180 degree pivot for me where I suddenly got the help I needed and everything in my life fell together. I still had hard days, I still walk through hard seasons, and my mental illnesses are not things that I can improve with a snap of my fingers. But from that moment on, from the second I let myself feel validated by my own experiences, I knew that I could finally begin to heal.
Every day I walk with anxiety and depression, but I have learned since then that those conditions are far from defining who I am. I have learned that I am fun, outgoing, compassionate, and caring, and every part of me and my journey has been one that’s fostered my identity and made it more complete. I am still so privileged to go to a school like Wake Forest, to come from such a loving and supportive family, and to be in good physical health. But I still struggle. And if you are someone who is like me, I promise that what you’re walking through is real. I promise there are resources and people who want to help you feel better. Even though things may appear to be all put together, it’s okay if they really aren’t.
So if you’re reading this, your story is valid. And your journey to healing begins the second you let yourself believe it.
Camille M., Wake Forest
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