As a survivor of postpartum depression, anxiety, panic disorder, and psychosis, this cause is near and dear to my heart. I suffered silently for months, barely able to function or leave my home before seeking treatment. Even after treatment began progress was slow and I had little to no support. My husband and I struggled to find answers to what was wrong with me and what we could do about it. My year postpartum after my second child was a living hell. I slowly began to recover and with each new day found more light, hope, and strength. I became more vocal about my illness and found an outpouring of love and support. I stood on a threshold into my new and recovered life and contemplated moving forward and never looking back on that horrific and dark time. However after seeing the first glimpse of hope in another mother fighting the same battles I had previously fought I knew my decision had been made. I would look back on the horrific time and allow the pain to be seared into my heart forever. Not so that I would hurt forever but so that I would never forget where I had stood and would always have the courage to share my story. This climb out of the darkness is part of how I share my story.