Walking into our local coffee shop, I anxiously waited for the other members of the group to arrive. It was my first time joining a group like this one. Chipping off my freshly painted nail polish from my fingernails, I watched for anyone that might be associated with the group. A friendly smiling face approached me and introduced herself as the leader of the women’s church group. Feeling like a fraud, I wanted to run out the front doors, but my feet felt like heavy weights that were keeping me frozen in place.

A few others joined us at the large table and the natural progression of small talk began.

Simple questions like “Are you married? Do you have any kids?” Questions that should be easy for anyone to answer. Ones that don’t require a lot of thought. When the eyes of the group turned to me, I instantly broke down in tears. Watching the confused looks on the faces around me, I felt the need to explain. But where would I even begin?

The truth was that I had just learned hours before that I had been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and vicarious trauma from my work as a social worker. Vicarious trauma, otherwise known as Compassion Fatigue, occurs from exposure to hearing trauma stories from others and being a direct witness to the emotional residue that is associated with that trauma. At the same time, my husband and I were going through separation after 8 years of marriage (Spoiler Alert: I am overjoyed to say that we did not follow through on divorce and just celebrated 9 years of marriage.)

The jumbled mess of an explanation that came out next was through many tears and sobbing. I think it went something like, “My name is Crystal. I don’t know if I am married anymore. My husband has untreated combat PTSD and he has moved out. I apparently have vicarious trauma, depression, and anxiety. But we have one child, he’s 3.”

Being someone that normally keeps all her feelings and emotions inside, I wanted to bolt for the exit. What could these well put together ladies possibly be thinking of me now?

I quickly learned that my inner critic was much harsher then the opinions of those at the table. Instead of the judgement and shame I was expecting, I was met with love and compassion. For the next hour the group shared stories of relationship struggle and encounters with mental illness. The connection with others that had experienced similar stories brought a calm to my world. I wasn’t alone.

One of these amazing women, was Elizabeth. Through conversation with her I learned that she lives with Bipolar Disorder and that we shared a similar passion of mental health awareness. In the coming months we would bond over importance of mental health.

Our discussions eventually led us to pursue co-leading a peer-led mental health support group, which we successfully launched and run each month. The women from the church group were some of our first fans cheering us on when our hours of discussion and research paid off.

Through Elizabeth’s unconditional love, support, and advice she has helped me in this road to recovery. It is with immense joy and honor that I announce that Elizabeth has accepted my invitation to contribute to this blog site. Please help me welcome Elizabeth as an author on the Hope in a Hopeless World site. Check out the “About Elizabeth” tab and watch for up-coming posts from her.