Growing Up, My Mental Health Was Stigmatized—Now I'm Breaking the Cycle of Trauma

January 22, 2023
Jasmin Chew

I was 15 when I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, chronic depression, and major mood fluctuations. It wasn’t a surprise to me. Rather, it came as a relief; a sense of closure. I finally had the answers as to how I’d been feeling my entire life. 

I remember coming home from school that day and telling my parents. My mother took it better than my father did. Every time I tried to open up to him about my emotions, he shut me down and denied I had any mental health issues. 

I didn’t have anxiety, it was simply the stresses of being a teen in high school, according to him. It was just a phase that would pass.  

Jasmin wearing the Flowy Rib Lounge Pant and Micro Modal Rib Bralette / @majestical_jasmin display: full

When I turned 18, things began to change between my father and I. We used to be so close. He was my idol and everything I wanted to be when I grew up. I began taking antidepressants, but when I told my parents they were afraid I’d become addicted or reliant on them. 

They told me I should go to therapy instead. I felt neglected, misunderstood, and forgotten. Their dismissal of my cries for help made me feel so small and invisible. Cries for help are like an iceberg. Once you see or hear them, it’s a sign that it’s bigger than you think. 

My parents raised my sister and I very well. I have an older sister who is absolutely beautiful in every way. We’ve always remained close, though there were times when I grew angry towards her. My parents loved and praised her more, she had more friends than me, and boys constantly surrounded her. 

Jasmin wearing the Flowy Rib Lounge Pant and Micro Modal Rib Bralette / @majestical_jasmin display: full

I couldn’t help but compare myself to her because, after all, my parents did. Every time I opened up to my father about my feelings, he would tell me about how my sister was feeling.

A deep rooted part of me will always believe that because I chose not to go to post secondary and because I’m mentally ill, I’m treated differently. Not any less, just different. 

I wish my parents had cared more; that they had comforted and been there for me; that they had validated my feelings and told me they were normal. Those were the things I needed to hear most, but never did. 

I always wondered, why would my father never want to talk to me about my fears? Of all my family members, he was the one I related to most.  

Jasmin wearing the Flowy Rib Lounge Pant and Micro Modal Rib Bralette / @majestical_jasmin display: full

I found out, years later, he was ashamed. He thought my mental health struggles were his fault. He passed his “problems” down to me and was upset with himself. It’s understandable ⁠— but instead of shutting me out, I wish he’d offered me the reassurance that mental health struggles are normal. 

Now, as a 23 year old adult, I find myself lacking confidence and needing the reassurance I longed for as a child from my partner. Reassurance is the first step of healing. It’s a way for parents and children to create a special bond. It builds trust and love. 

If my parents had channeled the energy they spent blaming themselves on comforting and teaching me coping mechanisms, things might be different. 

Jasmin wearing the Knit Rib-Knit Tank and Cardigan / @majestical_jasmin display: full

With time, I’ve grown distant from my parents. At some point, I stopped telling them about my day. As my photography career took off, they’d see my work and wonder why I didn’t tell them about it. Because I felt like it didn’t matter, I told them. 

No matter what I did, I felt like all they saw in me was a broken girl who was scared of everything. It was a conversation that changed my family’s dynamic for life. Eventually, my parents became obsessive about knowing what was going on in my life and tried to cultivate a closer relationship. 

It was almost like they were trying to make up for all the time they lost over the years. To me, it was too late. The guilt my parents hold for not being there for me is heavy, I see it weigh on them every day. But the resentment I feel is also heavy. 

Jasmin wearing the Knit Rib-Knit Tank and Cardigan / @majestical_jasmin display: full

There were things we could have done on both of our ends to prevent this gradual drifting apart. But, as is often the case, there can be stigma surrounding opening up to your family about your mental health struggles. 

It can be regarded as a dark secret no one should know about — or become tangled into a complicated web of shame that involves your family’s own unresolved traumas and mental health challenges.

Supporting you would involve having to make sense of their own journey, which they may have never been given the tools to do either. 

Jasmin wearing the Knit Rib-Knit Tank and Cardigan / @majestical_jasmin display: full

That’s why I’m breaking the cycle of unheard, unseen, and stigmatized mental health journeys within my own family. Growing up, if someone had told me they, too, were struggling to wake up every morning, I would have felt validated. Now, I want to be that person for others.

I’m proud to have raised myself into the woman I am today. And, if this story feels familiar, I hope you’re proud of yourself, too. If you’ve been persistent and vocal about your mental health journey and all you’ve endured: I see you, I hear you, I validate you. 

Reassurance is one of the world’s biggest comforts — and I’m here to reassure you for life.