‘Trust the Process’
I think it’s time I finally address this: mental health. 2020 has been a whirlwind of emotions. You and I know that; you and your family know that; the whole student body knows that; the whole world knows that. A lot of us are struggling.
However, there is still such a huge stigma around being open about our struggles, particularly in the Lake Forest community. In light of this, I thought I’d share my story. In October 2019, I was at my ATL, my all-time low. I couldn’t make it through the day, I would constantly leave in the middle of class, because I was so checked out.
I remember my stomach feeling like it was falling in a bottomless pit. I would go home crying every night. I felt so helpless. For as long as I can remember, I tended to keep things bottled up inside. I would refuse help from social workers, therapists, friends, and family members; if it wasn’t my brain giving me advice, I didn’t want it.
When I finally was able to open up to someone, my social worker Dan Maigler, he referred to me as a ticking time bomb that was only seconds away from exploding.
He was right because one day in October of 2019, I finally had exploded and came to realize that I couldn’t take on these hopeless feelings alone.
I decided enough was enough, even though it was hard to admit. Even though I knew people would be whispering about me at school. To me, it felt that by admitting I needed help was telling the world I was weak and couldn’t handle my workload.
In fact, I actually remember one teacher told me last year in the midst of my breakdown that I would have to accept not doing well in the class or that I should drop the class. Since I’m such an academically focused student, this broke me that people that were supposed to have faith in me were losing faith because of my struggles.
Except, that wasn’t the case. The teacher was wrong, and I was and am a fighter. The biggest epiphany I ever had was finally admitting that I needed help. Then, actually seeking out help and getting treatment was the best decision I ever made.
I was diagnosed with a boatload of things, generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and depression. To sum it up to my friends I say, you name it, I most likely got it.
I started an inpatient program at a health center to help address my problems and to talk through my struggles with trained professionals. I was in the program for five weeks, and didn’t go to school because of the program. Instead, I went to what I like to call “mental health school” from 9-3 everyday.
When I told my friends I was in the program, I told them to tell anyone who asked about my absence that I had a concussion. This was obviously a horrible excuse because you really can’t be out of school for five weeks straight because of a concussion.
When I started the program, I was beyond nervous. I was closed off and on the first day I said some not-so-kind things to my assigned therapist. I cried a lot during the first week and told all of the therapists that whatever they would try to teach me would not help.
I was convinced I would never get better and that I was the exception to the program’s treatment. I was convinced that no matter what they said or what they’d do, I’d still deal with the tense ache in my heart and the pit in my stomach.
Except, that’s the thing, you aren’t the exception, all you have to do is trust the process.
Trust the process.
Trust the process.
Trust the process.
Eventually, I had graduated from the program. I met some of the most amazing people and met one of my best friends. and no, the program was not full of a bunch of outcasts as many people assume.
A lot of the people there are just like you and I. Exactly like you and I: smart, hardworking, kind teens that had lost their way like us.
I left the program as a completely different person, I was more carefree, less stressed, and I learned many valuable skills and lessons that I try to implement into my everyday life.
This may sound cliche and it may sound way too simple, but the most important thing I learned was that everything happens for a reason. A lot of things in our lives are out of our control, and we just have to adapt to them. We have to be flexible. We have to realize that not everything is going to go our way; not everything in the world is centered around us and our needs. We have to understand and acknowledge everything that happens, try to adapt, and try to understand that we are not the only ones facing these challenges.
As High School Musical once said, we are all in this together.
2020 has been a crazy year, not the best year, but an important one. Many of the events that happened this year have been out of our control and we can’t change what has happened. All we can do is learn and adapt. All we can do is try to acknowledge the things that have happened to us and try to make change for the better.
If you or anyone else you know is struggling, try to make a change for the better. Try to seek help. Talk to loved ones. Help and wanting to get better are not signs of weaknesses.
Remember, all of our struggles are valid. Don’t underestimate what you are going through just because you think someone else is struggling more than you. I used to think this way and doubted I ever needed help because I always compare myself to others. You and your feelings are valid, always remember that.
Most importantly remember to trust the process, be kind, and choose empathy.
This story was originally published on Walker’s Instagram page.
For help, please visit/call/email
The National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Text-A-Tip: For Lake County, text LAKECO to 1-844-823-5323
LFHS Student Support Service Social Workers:
Lisa Huffman [email protected]
Maggie Harmsen [email protected]
Dan Maigler [email protected]