In Tune with: ME!

Where do I begin? It is so hard to correctly articulate any deep, dark, and dangerous experiences, especially when the deep, dark, and dangerous experience has to do with mental health. I thought this blog would solely highlight industry professionals' experiences with mental health in the music industry without telling my story. However, today is World Mental Health Day, and I think it's time I get up close, personal, and vulnerable. I have always cared deeply about mental health, people, and their stories hence why I created In Tune, so here is my story!

I think I have always been anxious. Actually, my fabulous therapist and I KNOW I have always been anxious. My anxious thoughts have had a range throughout the years. When I was a child, my thoughts were about the weather and if I was going to blow away in the wind at recess, to more mature anxious thoughts on stranger danger after continuously binge-watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit without my parents realizing.

As I grew up, the thoughts would just not stop, and the thoughts would manifest physically into panic attacks. When I had my first known panic attack in probably 7th grade, I literally thought, "this is the end; I am dying!" My panic attacks would occur at night and even during the day at school. I honestly need to thank the British Youtuber, Zoella, because she is open about her anxiety on YouTube, and she made me realize what I had been feeling was valid and something called a n x i e t y. However, a licensed psychotherapist and an artist raised me, so my household was very keen on emotional support (thank god). I will spare you the details on some of the deeper reasons I was so anxious all the time, but the environment and social situations create mental beasts.

I will fast forward many years of struggling with mental health to my college days. I had a wonderful time in college at Syracuse University. However, taking care of yourself is arguably one of the most challenging things in the entire world, in my opinion. Taking care of yourself means feeding yourself physically and emotionally with food and doing things you love with people you love. Also, taking care of yourself means not "emptying your cup" by doing too much, getting enough sleep, staying hydrated, and budgeting.

For most of college, I was killing it, but by junior year things started to get hazy. Oh yeah, the pandemic also happened during my sophomore year, creating another set of issues. I was doing way too much when I returned from school after a semester at home during the pandemic. I was in multiple organizations with a leadership position in one of them, had a large class load, and interned remotely. I felt like I needed to be everywhere and anywhere, and I undoubtedly cared about myself last with everything I was doing. Spring of Junior year was when I really felt a decline in my mental health, but I had a stigma around medication. I felt like I had managed my mental health issues on my own all growing up, so I could handle them even better as an adult. Looking back on this sentiment, it saddens me because I could have used the help from medicine.

Continuing with the story, I had not listened to my body by summer and decided to take on two remote internships, so I worked five days a week all day. For a healthy person, working five days a week is the usual grind, but for me, as the summer progressed, I was slowly declining while anxiety and depression were increasing. Working was counter-effective to my well-being, but I was going into my senior year of college, and the pressure of getting a job was beginning to settle. I began to only think about my future and get truly terrified of failure. I was the least present version of myself. My parents surely noticed that I was not doing very well, and my dad wanted me to go on medication, but my stigma won.

Now, I will walk you through where my journey gets heavy. In the fall of my senior year, I was supposed to be doing my Los Angeles semester, and oh my god, was my anxiety about moving to Los Angeles real. I was so scared about safety, what my internship would be, and if I would be able to take care of myself. Fast forward to moving to LA, I was a hot mess. Upon arrival, I could not stop crying and did not want my parents to leave. My parents did not want to leave me in my impaired state. However, I have frequently been resilient in my life, so we thought I would adapt and handle as I have "always" done. Of course, we were wrong.

I was living with two of my best friends, and many of my best friends were in LA doing the semester with me, so I did have support out there. However, there comes a time when support from friends and family is not enough, and you need professional help. I needed professional help. I had entered what my dad likes to call the rabbit hole. The rabbit hole consists of black-and-white thinking, tunnel vision, distorted reality, and self-harm.

I really struggled. I was barely eating, and sleep escaped me. When I first moved to LA, I slept 4-5 hours a night. As time went on, sleep declined. From 4-5 hours to 2-3, we entered maybe the worst week of my life when I slept 0 hours for 5-7 days straight. I genuinely thought I was going to die of sleep deprivation. My body was so amped up I wasn't even tired, but I knew I needed to sleep, so the cycle was vicious. Also, when you don't sleep, your mood shifts severely. I felt so out of my body, agitated, and upset, and I absolutely could not focus on interning or school work. I could not read.

To summarize, my mom came to LA for 14 days to get me better. I went to UCLA's hospital two times during that time. Unfortunately, UCLA did not have a bed for me in the psychiatric ward. Also, I was put on an SSRI, sleep, and anti-anxiety medications by a psychiatrist. A lot was going on in my brain. I felt the utmost guilt, shame, and fear, like my deepest fear of failure was coming true. We had no choice but to go home from LA. I withdrew for a semester on medical leave, and things got incredibly dark—no need for details.

I was in so much pain, and I didn't feel like the pain would ever stop (it makes me so sad to think about it). I had to go to a treatment center in Tucson, Arizona, because my parents needed me to be safe. The treatment center I went to is a fantastic place, but it wasn't exceptional for me because I kept having med changes that messed with my head. I felt like I couldn't connect with anyone because I was still in the rabbit hole, I felt scared, and my sleep was still terrible. I left treatment after ten days and came home.

Things got even worse, but that sometimes needs to happen before things get better. My psychiatrist at home switched me off of an SSRI to another antidepressant classed medicine, which finally made me stable on medicine. We realized SSRIs do not agree with my brain and were making my situation even worse. Brain chemistry is very complicated. I also started seeing my current therapist I saw after my first year of college again. I had stopped talking to my friends during this dark period, but my mom would update them. I slowly started to reconnect with people, and the combination of talking to my friends again, my boyfriend at the time’s love, and #TeamMira aka my parents, psychiatrist, therapist, and advisors really began to aid in my recovery. I also need to shout out the singers James Blake and Cleo Sol, some of the only artists I was listening to at the time. The way James talks about depression in his music and Cleo Sol talks about resilience helped me not feel alone.

By December of 2021, I was starting to feel better and knew if I wanted to graduate with my friends, I needed to get my shit together because I thought I had two options 1) suffer/die and 2) get back to life. I chose the second option and thank all the good things I did. I took an online Winter break class, which made me realize I could do school again and focus. I worked with my incredible program directors and advisors to make a plan for me to be able to graduate on time in the spring.

Fast forward to exactly a year later, I have accomplished so much physically, mentally, emotionally, and everything in between. I was able to graduate on time, and now I live in Los Angeles and have my dream first job in the music industry. Things get better! It is not easy, but things do get better with work. Support from professionals, friends, family, medication, and my own will gave me an enhanced version of my life back. However, I am also extremely fortunate to have gotten such great professional care and support from loved ones, which is not readily accessible to everyone. The higher-ups must do more work to create more attainable mental health resources. Still, wonderful grass-root organizations are doing what they can to help people suffering from mental health issues. Mental health is like riding a wave because there are good and bad days, but as long as you continuously work to stay afloat, things can feel better. I am so thankful to be here today, and all I want to do is help people the way people have helped me. This is my story, and happy World Mental Health Day.