The Globe has taught me many things, but, most notably, the Globe has taught me the power of storytelling.

As a cog in the journalistic machine, our primary function is to transmit words from their source to the public, and, until this year, I never realized how important that is.

The December cover story on mental health, “State of Mind,” gave a voice to so many CHS students and staff, both anonymously and publicly. These members of our community found solace in being able to share their story and potentially provide comfort to people facing similar struggles. In regards to mental health, one thing we learned during and since that story is that stigmatizing mental health can be incredibly harmful to those who are suffering.

Through the Globe, I am lucky enough to have a platform to share my story, unlike so many others. And with this being my final issue on staff, I am not going to waste such a precious opportunity.

When I was a freshman at CHS, I began hearing rumors about my older brother Jack using and dealing drugs. I didn’t know, nor care to know, the veracity of these accusations. I preferred to stay in the dark and, like so many others, pretend my life was perfect.

A few months later, my brother’s drug and alcohol addiction became apparent to my parents and he was sent to outpatient therapy in St. Louis. I assumed, wishfully and incorrectly, that this solitary treatment would be all he needed to get better.

The next three years of high school brought a repetitive cycle of sobriety, relapse and attempted recovery for my brother. He went to several inpatient therapies around the country and lived in halfway houses and sober houses with other recovering addicts of all ages. I did my best to not think about him and instead threw myself into my schoolwork and extracurricular activities in an attempt to forget my family’s imperfections and be the easy child my parents had never had. I took it upon myself to keep the family boat afloat, bump-free.

My brother’s substance abuse culminated a few days after Christmas my senior year, when Jack revealed that his previous bouts of sobriety were greater indicators of his ability to lie than his lack of drug abuse. Upon refusing to get help, Jack left home, where he had been living, to hit rock bottom on the streets. Following this, our contact with Jack was limited and most of our information about him came from people who had seen him.

I went back to school after the break, half of my mind wondering where my brother could be and whether or not he was alive, and yet I didn’t tell anyone what had happened. Not wanting to burden my friends or get sympathy from my teachers, I kept my pain to myself in the most tumultuous period of my life.

I don’t think anyone is at fault for the culture and expectation of perfection found at Clayton High School. Students like myself perpetuate the ideals of silence by refusing to look for the help that inevitably exists. However, to combat the deceptive idea that everyone is and must be perfect, the community as a whole needs to change.

In order to provide the welcoming environment that students need to surmount the challenges they are facing personally, we need to promote openness, acceptance and understanding across the District. Teachers shouldn’t be afraid of, nor apologize for, giving their students insight into their personal lives – this insight allows students to see their teachers as humans who can be approached in times of trouble, rather than as one-faceted work machines who only have time for their coursework and never for the caring of students.

Students also need to combat the ideals of perfection among the student body. Through the Globe, I have gotten to know an innumerable amount of students whose families have dealt with drug and alcohol addictions, depression, chronic medical conditions and parental separation, many of whom have never shared their struggles with peers.

Currently, my brother is in a treatment program in Colorado. Following an intervention that involved guidance from the Clayton Police Department, a spokesperson from AA and some family friends, my parents were able to get Jack into the psychiatric ward at a hospital. From there, he went to a 10 week Wilderness Program before graduating and transferring to where he is now. Jack won’t return to St. Louis for at least a year, and maybe ever.

Upon beginning to share my story with my close friends and teachers, I have come to realize that people are out there who want to offer support. I don’t have to go through this alone, and neither does anyone else in the Clayton community.

So look around you. Ask questions. Get personal.

Share your story and listen, because there are people who need to hear yours, and others who need you to hear theirs.