When I was 17 I remember acting crazy. I would sneak out, drink until I got stupid and stay up for days at a time; life was fun, exciting, and an adventure to be had. Yet; in the back of my head I knew something was wrong with me. That little voice that talks to you and tells you to do your taxes, stay in school, get a job and pull your shit together kept repeating the same thing over and over – you are sick, this behavior is not normal, you need help. But how could feeling like this be wrong? Besides, I was fun Kendra, she was brilliant exciting and magnetic. Who didn’t want to be her? Then at 21 the crash came; pregnant, alone, depressed, scared and confused. This was the first time I asked for help. Twelve years later I was finally heard, and everything changed.