Endurance training—especially running—has been a lifeline for me in managing and living with depression and OCD. It grounds me, gives me focus, and reminds me that movement is its own form of healing.
As Vice Chair of the Board of Directors for Mental Health America of Greater Houston (MHA Houston), I’m honored to serve as an ambassador at the 2026 Houston Marathon. MHA Houston provides vital advocacy, education, resources, and support for mental health across the Greater Houston community and beyond.
If you are able and feel inspired, I would be deeply grateful for your donation in support of my run. Your gift will touch countless lives and bring mental health resources to those who desperately need them. Together, we can #SmashTheStigma. Thank you for standing with me.
Why This Cause Matters to Me
I began experiencing symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder—clinical depression—in my late teens and was formally diagnosed in college. That was my first introduction to the complicated, often mysterious relationship between my brain and my mind.
My mind knows, deep down, that I’m not alone and that things can get better. But my brain often refuses to believe it. It spins like a hard drive, grinding away, sapping my energy, replacing passion with nothingness, and leaving me paralyzed. When my brain wins, even getting out of bed can feel impossible.
Over the past twenty years, therapy, medication, and lifestyle choices have kept me largely functional—and I’m profoundly grateful for that. But for many, access to quality care and understanding is not the reality.
In September 2018, seemingly overnight, I spiraled into a major depressive episode. I did what I knew to do—see my doctor, adjust my medication—and for a while, it worked. Then, it didn’t. By the summer of 2019, a medication mix-up sent me into a tailspin. I fought to claw my way back, but my brain kept sliding back four steps for every one gained.
The side effects from the increased medications became impossible to hide. My hands trembled. My mind felt foggy, words and memories just out of reach. I felt the place where I found joy and fulfillment—my own mind—slipping away.
In November 2019, I had a moment of terrifying clarity. I began to plan, systematically and pragmatically, how to end my life. I even began writing my own obituary. That’s how close I came.
But something clicked. My mind pulled me back from the brink. I called my husband and told him the truth about the depths of my depression. This wasn’t about realizing I needed help—I already knew that. It was about realizing I needed more help.
With my doctor, I began to address what lay at the center of my brain’s inability to function in its current environment. When I stepped away from work in January 2020, I thought I’d need three months to recover. It took a year. And I’m still a work in progress.
Today, I’m happy to be alive. I’m enjoying being alive. For a long time, neither of those statements was true. It has taken therapy, medication, running, and deep personal work to get here—and it has been worth it.
Why I’m Sharing This
I share my story not because I think it’s special or heroic, but because I want others who are struggling—or who love someone who is struggling—to know they are not alone. Help is available. Recovery is possible. There is hope for the future.
This is not the end of my journey to mental wellness. But it feels like the end of the beginning.
To everyone who has supported me: thank you. Your encouragement has meant more than I can ever express.
If you’re able, please consider donating to support my 2026 Houston Marathon run for MHA Houston. Every dollar fuels advocacy, education, and resources for those who need them most. Together, we can #SmashTheStigma and bring mental health support to more lives.
