Trauma has been my life experience and little did I know, how much it would effect my mental health, so. 

Two weeks before, we celebrated my 11th birthday together and two weeks later he was gone. 

My dad, my first love. 

Unknowingly coping with confusion and grief with my grandmother by my side, holding me up so high. 

Seven months later, her passing caused those emotions to grow and become much more intensifed. 

11 years old, I no longer looked upon myself as a child. Family and responibilities around me needed to be taken care of. 

Childhood ? Not much of one. 

Adolescence ? Not the happiest time. 

Laid my mother to rest before I could turn sixteen. 

Did not make the best decisions after that, but they could have been a lot worse. Depression held my hand tight and little did I know she was not the best friend. 

Never in my life would I have been exposed to gun violence. So, I thought. 

Lost my brother to someone who wanted to take the role of God can called him to his judgement day at the young age of 20 years old. 

At the age of 24, I took blame for it all, the deaths, the tears and all the heartaches that I sat and recalled. 

Whe me? I would ask. What did I do wrong? Depression and anxiety apprehended me emotionally, mentally and physically. I did not realize who I was, people would call my name, Monique and I could not even respond. 

At the age of 25, I finally did it. I asked for help. I stuck my arm out and told her I could not handle it anymore; I am spiralling out of control. Reaching out for professional assistance for life altering and I forever thank the woman who "saved my life". 

Mental health was foreign to me and it was not anyone's fault. It was the unhealthy cycle that kept spinning through us all. 

If I knew what I know now, I would have grabbed that little girl and never let go. I would have let her cry her heart out and I would have told her that we can not do this on our own. We need to let someone know that we need help.