THE HAPPIEST PEOPLE PROJECT

CONTACT US AT [email protected]! This is a project dedicated to helping those with mental illness get the help they need and deserve, as well as bringing attention to those who are denied help, or deemed unlikely to be dealing with mental illness because of their seemingly perfect lives. Find out more on the About page.

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Hey, Tumblr. We’re making a quilt. We want you to help.

We’ve partnered with the NYC Department of Health (@nychealth), ThriveNYC, the First Lady of New York Chirlane McCray (@flonyc), and Tumblr Creatrs (@creatrs) to build a digital Mental Health Quilt.

What’s this, then? Each patch on this wonderful thing will represent an individual’s relationship with mental illness. That’s where you come in. Whether you’ve battled it before, are going through it now, or are helping others in their struggle, we would love to see you contribute.

How do I submit a patch? It’s easy. Three New York City artists and four of our fantastic @creatrs made these templates for you to download if you want to color in a patch.

Want to submit something more original? Sure! Just a couple formatting things:

Try to keep the post captions under 100 characters.

Your work must be 600x600px at 72 DPI, in a JPG or GIF format.

It must be 100% your own. Totally and completely original.

Whichever method you choose, just submit here.

You’ll be helping out some pretty great charities, too. All you have to do is tag your post or submission with #The Trevor Project, #NAMI, or # The Steve Fund and we’ll donate $1 to the tagged charity, up to an aggregate total of $20,000 for all three organizations.

And the end result? While all of these patches will live on the Mental Health Quilt Tumblr forever, some of these patches will actually be printed out and turned into a real life quilt. We couldn’t ask for a better monument to you and this project.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

When a panic attack starts, the fear and hopelessness you feel is impossible to describe. For me, I want to rip my skin off and run through a wall and sob all at the same time. My chest feels like a pile of bricks is crushing the breath out of me. I let out these intense, hoarse coughs that lead me to gag and dry heave and the hyperventilation makes me feel like I am either going to pass out or throw up.

I usually try to curl up in a ball near the toilet while fighting my hardest to get control and I desperately pray out loud, “Please.”

There is nothing happy about it.

While I was diagnosed with anxiety disorders about a decade ago and have had control over my illness for quite some time now, I am able to describe my panic attacks so honestly and vividly because I just experienced my first one in a year a few nights ago. No matter how much time passes, no matter how educated I become with my illness, when a panic attack hits the fear is as real and horrible as my first one all of those years ago.

Anxiety is difficult. It is draining. It is a never-ending nagging worry that sits in your gut until you are reduced to tears, until you are begging to be someone else-- anyone else. It’s lonely.

When I was asked to write for The Happiest People Project and to share my story, I was so honored and excited. But, at the time I was asked, my anxiety was consuming me on another level so as I was looking back, I didn’t have a positive light to shine on my story . This left me defeated. All the work I have done with my organization, Listen, Lucy (www.ListenLucy.org) and all of the self-love and talk of acceptance that I put out into the world, and I couldn’t find anything positive to say about myself. Then, I started thinking about happiness, what it is and how it means different things to different people.

My anxiety is a negative in my life most of the time. It has brought me many horrible days that I wasn’t sure if I could survive, but I have and I will continue to survive every panic attack and manic day that is thrown at me. It is who I am and, weirdly enough, I think my anxiety has made me that way. I am super resilient.

I am also determined and that determination led me to use my anxiety disorder and my experiences with it to create Listen, Lucy-- an anonymous online outlet where people are free to share their stories without worry of judgement. I have received stories from all over the world and read messages from people who have found courage and hope through my honesty and openness. When I think about what I have worked tirelessly to create and the impact it has had on people who have been searching to have their stories validated and their voices heard, I am so happy that tears literally fill up in my eyes and run down my face.

My story of dealing with my disorders is not over. It will never be over. It is inside of me and is a part of who I am. Sometimes, that sucks. Other times, I am so proud of what I have chosen to do with that struggle that I couldn’t imagine my life without it.

I don’t think I am one of the happiest people in the world. I don’t think I have it all together. I think I struggle a lot and even though sometimes I wish I didn’t have the issues I have, I am so happy with what I have decided to do with them. Maybe happy people don’t have the perfect life, maybe they find ways to be happy with the inevitable imperfections and major bumps in the road.

I may not always be the happiest person or the most positive person, but I will continue to fight everyday to make my health and happiness a priority and to make sure the outlet I have created is a safe place for people to fight along with me.

Jordan Corcoran. Submitted September 12 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Semicolon (just a pause in my story)

I am 16 and a sophomore this is my story this far into my life. It started in 3rd and 4th grade when my cousins had come into this world, two of them born with a disease. After they died was when my depression really started. At such a young age the sadness hit me hard. That's when I started binge eating. I didn't even understand what depression was nor that I had it. Then after my grandma had left my grandpa it caused a split in my once happy family. Now my mom till this day refuses to see or talk to my grandma, someone I had grown a strong bond with. The last memory I had of them talking was them yelling at each other while I was locked in the car crying.

Switching schools can be hard for 3rd grader and knew I wouldn't make any friends nor did I want to. I was so sad all of the time I just gave up. From 4-6 grade I would cry myself to sleep every night. I was known as the weird stupid blond girl that did plays. I would call my mom every day to go home because I didn't want to face lunch time when I had no one to sit with. Because of the depression my grades dropped. Everyone thought I had a learning disability so they put me through every test possible to figure out what was so wrong with me. After all that there was nothing wrong with me, which I knew, and they decided that I just didn't want to learn and that I was just lazy. When in reality I was just to depressed and sad to work. I was still binge eating at this point and was very overweight for my age. It was around seventh grade I was actually somewhat happy at this point but that all was about to change. I realized that my current friend group talked about me behind my back and we're starting to spread rumors about me. Most of this bullying around 7th grade was based on my weight. People would tell me that I eat too much and that I was a fat fuck who didn't deserve  to have friends. My mom is a skinny little thing and was not ok with my weight. She was constantly commenting on my weight. One day she gave me a bottle of pills telling me that they were just vitamins. When I looked it up I found out that they were weight loss pills and I had to take three a day also that you had to be 18 and up to take them. I was to afraid of her at this time to say anything. So I didn't and went through two bottles of pills. This made me feel so awful about myself so I told my mom if she made me do it again I would tell my dad. She knew if I did that my dad would leave her so she stopped. We stopped talking.

I had stretch marks all up and down my legs starting when I was 11. I went to a catholic school so we only wore shirts. One day a girl in my class asked me if I was cutting myself because she saw my stretch marks. This completely destroyed me. My eating disorder started. I was then throwing up every day. It got worse as time went on. Although I was happy for someone who was starving themselves. I hadn't told anyone at this point mostly because I had no friends. After drama happened with a guy I shut down again. But this time I didn't start throwing up instead I would just cry.

8th grade I was so depressed it was getting to the point where I didn't want to be alive anymore. So one night I took a bottle of the strongest pills I could find and locked my bathroom door. I then laid in the bathtub waiting for hours thinking every last thought to find a reason why I shouldn't do it. But I took the pills. Once a minute passed I found a reason to live. I threw them all up. I thought it was because wasn't strong enough to do it, but now I know that I was strong enough not do it. I was ready to restart at a new school. But when I was gaining weight back and depression set in freshman year turned to hell. My bulimia was at my worst and I started to burn myself constantly. I have so many scares hiding them was a problem it was like everyone was staring. I told a friend and thing got better, then I told more people who made a huge impact on my life forever. A lot has changed and now I help others who are going through what I did. I don't want to say that I am today 100% because I'm not but I'm getting there.

Tatum M. Submitted September 9, 2016. Catch up with them on Instagram.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

It all started in 7th grade I was 12 . Before that I saw myself as happy confident and loving life. Then I started to become depressed I thought about killing my self and cut at least once a week. I was a miserable person and couldn't face anyone. Finally in 8th grade my best friend saw the cuts and asked me about them I cried broke down and told my parents. I now saw myself as a worthless ugly broken girl. But people still made me out as a girl who had everything going for her. My parents never got me help and eventually forgot about the situation. I was still cutting at the time but then turned to pills. I would take all different types in lethal amounts hoping that one day I just would go to sleep and would not wake up. Then my parents found two pill wrappers I told them it was my first time and they yelled at me and then brushed it off. They assumed because I smiled and covered up all my feelings that I was fine. Then in freshman year my sister developed an eating disorder. My parents got her help and we started to go to family therapy. I resented the fact that they got her help but didn't seem to care about me. I continued taking pills sometimes 5 days a week I would be drowsy and dizzy the next day and even sometimes fall down because I couldn't stand. I hid all my problems so well I guess because everyone still saw the happy strong girl. Then one day my parent found all the pill wrappers 52 in total not including the ones I took that didn't have a wrapper. I broke down again and they promised to get me help. But like the other times they had other things to worry about like my sister so they never got around to it. They hid the pills and let it go and expected me to fix myself.Then summer of freshman to sophomore year I started to cut again almost everyday util my mom saw the cuts at the doctors office. My parents confronted me about it and they again promised I was gonna get help. But now I'm in my sophomore year I'm 15 and they still haven't gotten me help. I have started to turn to friends who are going through the same thing they help me talk about it inside of turning to pills or a knife. Im 1 month clean. I'm still trying to fix myself but I want that happy confident girl back.

Anonymous. Submitted August 23, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Ok so I have never told anyone this...Not one soul not even my best friends but, I felt this was the right place to share my story with a little thing called Trichotillomania. so it started when I was in 5th grade and progressed until 7th grade. If your wondering what this is, its a mental illness where the victim copes with circumstances by pulling out their hair. Now that may not seem bad and it didn't seem that bad to me either until it had got so bad that i had no eyebrows or eyelashes mid-6th grade. It all started with an in class essay in 5th grade where I was compelled to pull out one eye brow because it was bugging me, the action of pulling out the eyebrow was surprisingly soothing in this stressful time. It only escalated from there. In my family not one kid had ever gotten a B in any class. Living up to this expectation, and the expectations to always be happy, and to always be like my siblings before me was tough. It only got worse when people in my life like my family got mad at me for this" illness" constantly telling me to "grow up" and "just stop". I couldn't stop. I felt so exposed all the time as well because everyone could see what I had done to myself. I would tell people that I had accidentally burnt them off and other crazy excuses. No one ever found out somehow but, everyone could see how imperfect I was and the silent judgement of others really hurt. This only sent me down a worse spiral pulling out more hair to the point that I literally had no more. I got more depressed, stressed, and hurt until I met my best friend ever. I never told him what had been happening but, he still accepted me and it just felt amazing. I started getting happier and made more genuine friends this way. People who saw me for who I was on the inside not on the outside. At this point I started becoming happier. I started noticing that clothing, getting a  girlfriend, and being popular, amongst other things weren't the most important things in life and I slowly recovered. My family began to accept me more and by high school I had a brand new start as well as a brand new face. Nowadays I am quite happy all thanks to my friends and their acceptance no matter what.

Kyle Dimick. Submitted August 22, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Cat T. Submitted August 3, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

I have had a long fifteen years of depression and anxiety disorders. When I was eight years old our family had a bit of a crisis, with the recession booting my dad from his job. We had to move and all, but that wasn’t the worst of it. During that same period my father, who has, like his mother, my uncle, and my grandfather, Bipolar Disorder. Shizophrenia was thrown in to the mix as well, and eventually his doctor went wrong. My father was prescribed the wrong medicines for his condition, and on thing led to another until we had a big issue. At the same time, as if the recession and all else wasn’t enough, I was diagnosed with Autism. A few years later, after we had regained a foothold, my depression, which had poked at me my whole life, came back full force. soon after that, an anxiety disorder or two hopped on board the fun and joy express. this year I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and have been given medications.

Even though I have medicine for my anxiety, I have found that friends and family, along with a hobby or two, can give me the lift I need to get out of a rut. Friends are there for you, and if you let them, they can help you through anything at all.

Mateo Pelissier. Submitted July 30, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Rose. Submitted July 31, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

I'm 15 years old, going to be a sophomore. I was a competitive gymnast from second grade, until eighth grade. When I quit, I gained a lot of weight. I was not overweight, still conventionally "skinny", but due to the intensity of doing intense gymnastics for four hours a day caused me to be so small for my age, I had never experienced being of "average" size. I honestly didn't know what "average" was. Because I experienced this just before I started high school, I was highly self-conscious of my body and began to form bulimic habits to make myself feel better. A few months later, I finally realized it was bad and that I needed to stop, because I had nothing to worry about, but I couldn't. I was so used to throwing up five times a day, my body couldn't process a full meal without throwing most of it up. I'm mostly okay now, but it took several months to gradually ease back into it. Sometimes, I still throw up out of impulse when I'm feeling fat or ugly, or anything bad about myself.

The worst part through it all was when my friends thought it was stupid and said stuff like "shut up you're so skinny!!" It was even worse when they thought I was making it up for attention.

I'm not entirely sure how to end this, so i'll just say if someone has the courage to tell you about depression or an eating disorder, or any kind of mental illness, never accuse them of making it up or lying. It feels awful and like nothing will ever get better, but it will.

Anonymous. Submitted July 30, 2016

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

It started in September of freshman year. I was at a new school with new friends and a completely different environment. It wasn't hard at first, I was accepted by my classmates and liked my teachers. I loved high school. The pressure to succeed from my parents started to increase, and I grew more and more unhappy as my family became more cold and oblivious to my emotions. I was so new to all of this, I'd never been this unhappy and I didn't know how to cope. I turned to cutting. My scissors were a material thing, something I knew wouldn't disappear or leave me like some of my family could or bend me till I break. I did it whenever I was sad, or angry, or hopeless. It became an addiction. I started seeing the school counselor, who didn't really have the power to do anything for me. It was nice, feeling like an adult, someone other than my best friends, cared about how I felt. I felt better around new years. One of my best friends had become something more and I had an amazing group of best friends. I still cut, but it was less frequent. The school counselor recommended therapy for me, my parents said they'd look into it. It seemed like everything was going to get better. Then my parents, who ended up doing this four more times, decided I didn't need therapy and I was all better. Little did they know that I wasn't, I won't ever be the same as I was. Having that pulled on me hurt, I needed help, I wanted help, and it was hard to ask for it. Thats why when I started being sexually harassed, I told the counselor, not my parents who still to this day, don't know. It was around May that I tried to kill myself. I tried bleeding out. My friends were scared for me, they called the counselor and were trying to get me hospitalised. I didn't feel like there was a purpose to being here, and simply moving on from this life would fix everything. Sometimes I still think suicide would be a good option, but I can only hope it never gets as bad as it did then. I wrote letters, for my friends, for my parents, for the people I loved the most. I guess I wrote my suicide notes. I recently went to the doctor, who again recommended therapy. Recently I've developed some body image issues, but I'm working through it. It’s hard, it all is, but I'm four months clean of cutting and it’s still an urge, but I feel stronger than ever. I have hope that my life has great things in store for me.

Anonymous. Submitted July 30, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

So, ever since kindergarten, I've struggled with Trichotillomania, which is when you have the compulsion to pull out your hair. At first, I thought it was a normal thing, but then, after people started to make fun of me for my lack of eyebrows and/or eyelashes, I just thought it was me being stupid and just having a habit. It kept getting worse and worse with stress and I had been silently dealing with it for about 5 years when I had decided that I wanted to tell one of my friends about it because I felt like that would help. However, instead of being the caring, sportive person I thought my friend would be, they just kept asking me all of these questions as if to pin it on me. They just kept telling me to "just stop", as if it was that easy. The thing that most people don't understand, is that it hurts, it gives me such phycological pain that I'll scream and I'll be in tears if I decide "just stop". And once I give in, I'm left with this shame constantly eating away at me, and once again, I'll be in tears. I could never look people in the eye, or even consider myself beautiful, at the least. It was totally wearing me down and taking control of my life. Then i found it was actually a mental disorder, just knowing that it wasn't just me being dumb made me feel better, but it had it down as a method of self harm, which while i don't personally buy, concerned me. Sadly, it also said that, since it started so early for me, I'll probably be struggling with this for the rest of me life. I still felt so isolated and weak for so long until recently, last year, my 9th year of Trichotillomania, I finally found something that somewhat worked, which was keeping myself busy with friends, or once I felt this pain and urge, to just sleep, or distract myself with something involving my hands. While it wasn't full proof (as I can't just sleep anytime I want, or just stop studying or doing homework whenever) I've definitely felt better and I don't experience it quite as much. Another thing that I've found incredibly helpful, is to surround yourself with friends you know you can talk to, even if you know you wont, to just have that option out there is so comforting.

Noa C. Submitted July 30, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

There’s a sort of foggy feeling you get every once in awhile, when it’s humid out or when you watch someone from behind a glass. It’s never a feeling called attention to, maybe because existentialism is uncomfortable and vast, and no one seems to experience it quite the same. There comes times that we disconnect ourselves from the physical world, whether it be accidental or purposeful, and we sort of float above like balloons that look down onto the puny and insignificant world below. However, sometimes the string is let go, and you’re further away from the ground than you ever were before. That’s depersonalization.

Depersonalization has become my double edged sword. I’ve been complimented on my vast awareness of the world ever since I was small. It seemed like I could see things from an unbiased vantage point, even if I were in the situation. As most things do, though, the ability comes with a price. Every now and again I fall into an episode of depersonalization, where it feels like I’m piloting my physical body from a distance, and that I am not a real human. I’ll lose sensitivity to touch, smell and sound: during an episode, music sounds jumbled and disorganized, and colors dull and blur. There’s a severance between my reality and my own self, and I really can’t feel anything that might be around me. It starts panic attacks that make me doubt any love for my family and friends. It’s hollow and empty and lonely, and it takes so long to be pulled to the ground.

Sometimes, though, if I stay quiet for long enough, I can start to feel little disturbances in the breeze. I can text someone who cares about me who will say that I’m real, I’m real, I’m real, and I am loved. Like someone pinches me out of a nightmare and suddenly, I can look down at my hands again and feel like they belong to me.

I didn’t want to write much for this, but I don’t usually see anything in mental illness discussions about dissociation and it’s subsections. Depersonalization is a struggle for me. That is all.

Anonymous. Submitted July 30, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Blooming Through My Mental Illness

I’ve struggled with an unknown mental illness since I was a little girl. Life has always been hard for me to handle, and I have worried about everything for as long as I can remember. In my 8th grade year, I struggled with crippling depression. Some days, I could not physically move because it took too much energy; energy that I did not have. It took me a long time to realize that I was not alone in this world, and that there were other people fighting against difficult times like I do. My older sister shares the same mental disorder with me. She was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when she was 17. I was recently diagnosed. I am 16 years old. I am on 2 mood stabilizers and 2 anti-anxiety meds. I take about 6 different vitamins to help with the constant nausea from the anxiety that lives in my heart and corrupts my mind. I get stress migraines and I have a cold 65% of the time. My immune system has gone way out of whack since I have grown into my mental illness. It has been incredibly hard to accept the fact that it is a reality, and that I will have to live with this for the rest of my existence.  I will likely have to take medications for my entire life. Some days I feel like I’m lost in my mountains of pills to keep me sane. I have a rough time swallowing the idea that I have to depend upon something to keep me feeling even remotely stable.

Not long ago, I began preaching the importance of self-love and self-care. I invented something called the ‘self-love jar’, and I put it in a local coffee shop called The Greenhouse. There was a message on the outside of the jar with the simple directions of “put an index card in the jar with at least one thing you love about yourself”. Some people took it very seriously, and others thought it was a joke. At the end of the month of March, 2016 I took the index cards out of the jar and hung them throughout The Greenhouse. As I hung each of them up, I read them. It was the most inspiring afternoon of my life. So many people had at least one thing that they loved about themselves, even if it was something as simple as their compassion or their eyes. I started seeing so much light in my dark world, and I took other people’s ability to love themselves and others into my arms and embraced it. I have since then been doing everything I can to love others and myself. I have been practicing what I preach, and it’s the most incredible thing. While I still have to depend upon my medication, I can also depend upon myself. I have made a home in myself and in the love surrounding me.

Rose. Submitted July 31, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

Don’t stay invisible.

A lesson Learned and Retold

  An Introvert’s own defense is to be invisible when in panic mode. For me anyway, and for me it is subconscious. But sometimes I become so painfully aware of myself shutting up, shrinking, and hiding even though I may not want to. My anxiety is woven into my veins, my introversion is in my DNA. I was constructed to be soft-spoken, gentle, and delicate. It’s obnoxious to be “too loud” and irritating to be “too quiet”, so how do you find the line inbetween the two? I always envied those who walked gracefully, shoulders broad and confident, their voice strong and smooth, yet calm and enticingly gentle. Then, I decided to be them. I grew up, I got over myself, because it sucks until it doesn’t. I started listening to music, drawing and writing, reading classic books, calling up my aunts and uncles to say hello and to tell them I love them.

  I always heard the phrase “love yourself” and thought it sounded stupid. How in the heck do you love yourself? Doesn’t that just make you narcissistic? I realized, it doesn’t- it makes you a regular person, who can function around others without feeling disgusting and small. It forces you to grow up and realize; hey, you’re not too bad. Give yourself credit. Be grateful and fall in love with your body, if you’re alive then I’d say it’s doing it’s job pretty well. Look at yourself in the mirror and realize that you’re the only person that you will ever be. This is you, and that’s pretty cool. Start picking yourself up. Do you want to cut off all your hair or dye it some weird-ass color? Do it. Did you just get out of a relationship? Or have you never been in one? That’s fine, nothing lasts forever, not even a person. But at least they were there, even if it was only for a day, or even just an hour. Everyone and everything will come and go, appreciate it while it’s there, and say goodbye gracefully. Then, give yourself a little break. Clichés are clichés for a reason. They’re all usually true. Everyone makes mistakes, You can’t please everyone, There’s no time like the present. Let yourself start living your life. Don't let anything stop you.

  Nobody is any better than you are, because anyone can rise up to another person’s level. You just have to try, and you just have to put in the effort of wanting to be satisfied with who you are. I did, thank god. But I am still hard to see, I am not the eye-catcher in the room. I am a nice little accent, a necessary addition that you will only truly appreciate if you focus on me. I'm here. I'm small, gentle, and calm. I am not opaque, nor do I want to be. I am seen and barely heard, but I like it that way. I will speak when I feel like it, and when I gather the musing I need to force out the words that are repeating over and over in my head trying to escape as I study the faces of others around me and wonder why they are saying the things they are and if they ever wonder about what other people are saying or thinking, I’ll say something. I’ll show up. Then fade back again, gladly.

Lilly (@lillyquilly on Instagram). Submitted July 31, 2016.

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@localtrashcat on Instagram. Submitted August 1, 2016.

[thehappiestpeopleproject]

The names Mackenzie Murphy, but my friends call me Little Mack. I’m turning 17 this September, and to say I like chicken nuggets would be an understatement. I’m from a not so small town of Airdrie, Alberta, where in 2013, I pushed to create an anti-bullying bylaw that was later passed in September of 2013. That is were my passion for advocating against bullying, and the mental health stigma began. I have been speaking about my struggles with bullying, and my own mental illness since I was just 13 years old. Since then, I’ve learned so much, and my determination for change has not died down. Between volunteering around my community, speaking at schools and events such as WeDay, and being your typical everyday teenager, I’ve had quite the journey that’s only just getting started. I started doing pageants almost 2 years ago, and have held titles as both Miss Teenage Airdrie, and Miss Teen Alberta American Beauty, where I represented my town and province both nationally and internationally at 2 pageants! This both did wonders for my self-esteem, and also gave me a unique way to share my story, and passion across North America. Today, I am continuing to share that passion for change, and working towards creating more resources for those who struggle with mental illness everyday.

It’s taken a while for me to come to terms with my connection to mental illness. I lived in a downward spiral of denial, and confusion for a very long time, scared of a label that I felt would change who I am, and how others perceive me. It was just last year that I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, after being admitted to the youth mental health ward at my local hospital 9 times over the course of 3 years, due to suicide attempts and ideations and self harm. For the longest time I felt lost, and incomplete. There was no explanation as to why these dramatic, and overwhelming mood swings were happening in my head, and I often believed that I was the only one who felt this way. I was not only scared of myself, but also ashamed of who I was. Looking back, I met a few special people who were able to articulate their feelings of anxiousness, sadness and also their hope for recovery. I always admire these people for their strength in tough times, and allowing me the opportunity to relate to their struggles. This, among many other reasons, is why I choose to share my journey through mental illness and pushes me  to continue my work with Wear Your Label as a Role Model, and many other organizations.

Never allow your mental illness to win. It will be hard. The war between your illness versus yourself will be the hardest battle you will ever have to face, but always remember that even the strongest soldiers have to take some time to clean up their own wounds, before heading back out on the battlefield. Although you may be blinded by pessimistic thoughts drowning your brain, know that hope and faith never leave your side, even when you can’t see them, they’re always there, along with your friends, family, that one barista at starbucks that adds a little too much whipped cream to your Frappe because they think you’re super cute, and yourself.

https://www.facebook.com/OfficialMackenzieMurphy/

http://www.ctvnews.ca/health/you-re-not-alone-teen-mental-health-advocate-speaks-out-about-youth-depression-1.2750335

http://calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/airdrie-teen-wins-diana-award

http://pipellalaw.com/blogs/anti-bullying-advocate-mackenzie-murphy-speaks-at-famous5-event/

Mackenzie Murphy. Submitted August 7, 2016.

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Mackenzie Murphy. Submitted August 7, 2016.