Breaking the Stigma: Still Healing, Still Here

For a long time, I lived in silence.

I grew up in a world where you didn’t talk about what hurts. Where strength was measured by how much you could carry without breaking, especially as a Hispanic born in the US. I learned to survive early—unexpectedly becoming a mother as a teen, navigating judgment, pressure, and responsibility far beyond my years. I was expected to hold it all together. And I did…at least on the outside.

But inside, I was hurting. Deeply.

My mental health began to slowly unravel over time—buried beneath layers of trauma, unspoken grief, and impossible expectations. I didn’t know how to cope in healthy ways, and for a while, I found myself in a place I never imagined I’d be. Numbing became easier than feeling. Silence became safer than speaking.

But even in my darkest moments, a small voice inside me kept whispering, “You were made for more,” and now my daughter needed me.

Healing didn’t come overnight. It came in pieces—through therapy, faith, asking for help, and learning to forgive myself. I started to see that my pain didn’t make me broken. It made me real. It made me human.

I went back to school. I fell in love and grew a family. I worked full-time. And I earned my bachelor’s degree, magna cum laude. Today, I’m almost done completing my Master of Social Work degree and working at an alternative high school, where I support students who carry invisible battles of their own. I see them. Because I’ve been them.

And while I’ve come so far, I want to be clear: I still live with mental illness.

There are days when anxiety knocks me off balance. Days when depression lingers. Days when old wounds try to reopen. Healing is not a one-time event—it’s a lifelong practice. I still have to remind myself that I am worthy of rest, support, and softness. I still have to choose healing, every single day.

But I am not ashamed of that.

Because living with mental illness and still showing up for your family, your students, and your purpose—that is strength.

I don’t tell this story for pity. I tell it to break the stigma.

You can carry pain and still carry hope.
You can struggle and still succeed.
You can live with mental illness and still live a beautiful, powerful life.

I am not whom I once was.
I am whom I chose to become.

Still healing. Still growing. Still here.