In my experience, OCD is generally not a common topic when discussing mental health. And if it is brought up, it is more often than not, spoken about in extremes. But what about everything in-between? What about the rest of us who aren’t as readily recognised? This preconceived notion of what OCD is, adds to the suffering. It adds isolation & shame.

I work alongside The United Nations Girls Education Initiative to develop better education programs for girls and help them access their inner power to advance their skills, rights, and opportunities. As an activist and young person, I believe speaking up about difficult things is and should be my responsibility. I have been dealing with anxiety for 5 years now.

When I see or hear the words “mental health”, it triggers me by flooding my mind with memories of battling depression alone as a teenager. I’m reminded that I am still fighting past traumas and words that still cling onto me from years ago. It’s a constant thing. Nobody thought to ask if I was alright because they figured since I was naturally quiet that I must have been.

My mental health journey started when I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 11 after childhood abuse that went on to shape the best part of my teens and early adulthood. The end of 2018 saw the breakdown of a mentally abusive relationship that seemed to be the final straw. It was only in 2020 that I finally broke down. I was referred to the Mental Health Crisis Team, and they saved my life.

Becoming disabled at 10 years old massively impacted my mental health. I went from being an active young girl to being housebound. Over the next few years, I developed severe anxiety and panic attacks. Although anxiety is a horrible thing to go through, I truly believe it has helped me become the best version of myself.

My journey with mental health began from around the age of 13 after experiencing bereavement. I was also struggling majorly with body-image issues, due to me struggling with self-acceptance and self-perception, because of my disability. I fell into a viscous cycle of starving myself, making myself sick and binge eating, which then tragically resulted in me attempting suicide at the young age of 15.

By the time I found out I was pregnant, I was 19 and on the tail end of relapse of my eating disorder, and I struggled with binge drinking. Overnight, the light and direction I had been needing became so clear. But then at the start of the third trimester, my baby boy had died suddenly, and without explanation. I went back to square one. I drank every single day. I looked for my baby everywhere.

Throughout school, I felt like I was a shell of myself. Most days I would come home and cry to my mum who would always be there to listen. When I was told that I was not good enough, at times I believed them. Throughout college, I was also told that A levels would be too hard for me and that I would struggle. They defined me by my grades and didn't look at me as a person.

At just 13, I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa and a few years later Bulimia. Society’s unrealistic expectations of body ideals have already claimed too many victims. I for one am fed up of hating my body. To recover, really recover, from the pandemic of disordered eating we need to reject diet culture and fight against those norms. We need to disengage in the cycle of dieting. Stop allowing people to profit off our self-hatred. Reject the notion that smaller body = more desirable.

If mental health has affected your life you are not broken, and you do not need to be fixed. Don't focus on ridding yourself of what affects you. Instead focus on coping with it day to day, and soon it becomes a much smaller part of your life. If we give something less ability to affect us, it can do less damage.