Mom, Dad, I Need Your Help
If you had asked me a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed I’d ever say this: Mom, Dad, I need your help. I was too scared. Too ashamed.
HOW IT STARTED
It didn’t begin with something dramatic. Just little things: skipping dinner because I couldn’t face parents asking how school was, spending hours scrolling on my phone instead of sleeping, pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. I thought everyone else had it together, and I was the only one falling apart.
At school, I felt the weight of expectations - grades, social life, being “on.” Home was another performance; I didn’t want to worry Mom or Dad. If they knew how anxious I got over a test, or how often I felt like I didn’t belong, I believed they’d be disappointed.
THE SILENCE & STIGMA
Saying I was struggling felt like admitting defeat. I figured people would say, “Just tough it out,” or “Oh, you’re just being dramatic.” Mental health wasn’t something we talked about. It was something we fixed or ignored.
So I held everything in. Anger. Sadness. Nights I cried by myself. The more I stayed quiet, the worse things felt.
THE BREAKING POINT
The moment I realized I couldn’t do it alone came out of nowhere. I was at school, sitting in the class and everything - my heart, my thoughts - just crashed. My breathing raced. I felt suddenly trapped. I thought I was going to faint. I left early and spent the rest of the day in my room, staring at the ceiling.
That night, I knew: hiding wasn’t working anymore. Whether Mom and Dad understood or not, I had to try.
SPEAKING UP
When I finally said it,“Mom, Dad, I need your help”, I barely recognized my own voice. My heart was pounding. But when I saw their faces, confused at first, then concerned... I felt something shift. Relief, maybe. A permission of sorts, not to be perfect, just to be me.
START OF SUPPORT
They didn’t have all the answers, but they listened. I met with a therapist who helped me name my feelings. I went to group therapy with peers my age who felt invisible in their own worlds.
Family counseling was awkward at first. I didn’t want to cry in front of them or seem like I blamed them. But slowly, in that room, we started saying things that had been unsaid. They asked questions. I shared. We listened.
LOOKING BACK
I wish I could tell my past self: You are enough. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to pretend.
Now, I see some growth. Some days are still hard. But I feel lighter. I let myself be seen. I let myself ask for help.
If you’re out there reading this, feeling alone, afraid to open up - I see you. Saying those words mattered. For me. For my family.
Because Healing Happens Together.
