Three years ago, I lost my voice. I could still say what I was expected to, say what people wanted me to, say whatever I was told to, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I could say whatever anyone needed me to, anyone but me. My voice had been almost silenced by the people around me. I was made quieter by the people who called me selfish, the people who thought I was weak, the people who convinced me I wasn’t worth their time or energy, all because of my worsening mental health.
Having a mental health problem makes life complicated. For me, a teenage girl, going to boarding school, living with 7 other girls in a room, life seemed impossible, but it wasn’t just that: life always seemed impossible, at home, at school, wherever I was. There wasn’t exactly a lot of privacy with my mental health problem.