For anyone who doubts the validity of mental health issues, I have a few stories to tell.

Thirteen years ago last January, I locked myself in my apartment on the campus of Fort Hays State University. I laid in bed for three days, only getting up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t eat.

I avoided human contact for three days. It’s not an exaggeration to say I wanted to die.

Life was dark. I’d been failing in school, falling behind slowly, and before I knew it, I felt like I was under a mountain. For a 22-year-old kid with hardly any life experience, it seemed like all was lost. I didn’t see a way out.

I’m still not sure what pulled me out of it, but somehow, after days in the apartment with the shades pulled, I decided to pick up the phone and call my mom. A week later I’d been kicked out of school and I was moving out of the apartment and back into my parents house. I got on medication for ADHD and I started to feel better, but it was five years before I could get up the courage to really start my life again. For five years I dwelled on my failure and was afraid to leave the safety of that basement. I had a job, but I clung to the security of my parents house because I was afraid to lose again.

In 2011, I moved out, back on my own and slowly built my life back up. I had a real adult job, then another one, and by 2017 I was editor of a newspaper and I really felt like I’d conquered my demons.

In November 2017, I moved with Alyson to Atlanta. Things were great. Within a month I found a job. I loved the new city and my new life. But it didn’t take long before difficulties started mounting, so slowly and sneakily that I barely noticed.

By July, I was mentally under water. Crippled by anxiety about my job, unable to make any real friends at work, I had slowly began to dread each day. I lost confidence in my ability to do my job. My work quality fell dramatically. Soon, my output wasn’t enough to meet my job requirements.

One year ago today, I was fired. It wasn’t that I didn’t expect it, but part of me hoped I would be able to dig myself out of the hole before things got that bad.

But I couldn’t. I fell back into depression. I continually failed to find another job. It was a struggle to get dressed each day. In three months, I only managed one job interview, and it didn’t lead anywhere. I was lost. If not for Alyson sticking by me, I might’ve fallen as far as I had years earlier.

In October, we moved to Milwaukee and I got a fresh start. I was fortunate to find some free mental health support, I started therapy and got back on medication. It took a little over a month to find a new job. Now, my life is more stable and secure than it’s been since I moved out of my parent’s house.

I write this now because even though I’m doing much, much better, the anxiety is still there. It’s treated, but it’s never gone. I write this now because I need a marker to remind myself of how far I’ve come, and maybe I can remind someone else, too.

Life sucks, and mental health struggles make it suck that much more. They are very real, and much like addiction or anything else, they don’t just go away. They’re an ever-present challenge that must be managed, and they’re sneaky as hell.

I’m extremely privileged. Not everyone who struggles with mental health issues gets as many chances or has as much support as I had, and I still almost didn’t make it. And I still have to fight every day to keep my head above water.

The point is, we need to stop stigmatizing mental health struggles. Shaming people or devaluing their pain is the worst thing you can do. If you know someone who seems as though they may be struggling, the best thing to do is make them feel safe to express it.

And if you yourself are struggling, please try to get help. It’s almost impossible to go it alone. There’s always help if you need it. Reach out to me. Reach out to someone. If everything feels hopeless, then please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, or use their online chat at http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/…/LifelineChat.aspx.

If you feel like you’re alone and no one believes you, just please know that you’re not alone. I believe you.

Derek Smith is a former Wilson resident. This column, which first appeared on his Facebook page, is reprinted here for all of those who are dealing with anxiety and depression themselves or have a loved one who struggles.