I am 29 years old. I've lived with depression and anxiety most of my life. When I was six years old I started getting intrusive thoughts, which carried with me throughout adolescence, and still today. I have a physical disability, so that's where most of my depression began, when I was old enough to understand I was different. My anxiety and depression have coexisted all my life. When I was in grade school, my anxiety was at its peak. I was afraid of everything. Choking, dying, being kidnapped, you name it. This paralyzing fear lasted a few years. Then depression took its turn. The intrusive thoughts were quite prevalent. But I began feeling low. Empty. Nothing. A lot of the time. People would ask me why I'm so miserable. I had not reached out for help until two years ago, when I found myself in my wheelchair in the road trying to get hit on purpose. That's when things changed. I got help. I started feeling better and learning about myself. I spent two months in the hospital. Today I feel the best I’ve ever felt. Mostly I feel happy. I'm a published author of two poetry books, which was a lifelong dream. Getting help was the best thing I ever did for myself. And I'm glad that taxi missed me.