Member since January 2022
Lauren Perna is the CEO and Lead Writer of Lauren Perna Communications. The company's goal is to deliver powerful messages for companies that are improving lives and inspiring others. They do this through a variety of writing services and communications workshops.
Lauren is also a mental health writer and advocate, passionate about helping others who struggle with their mental health. She started her company after several years of freelancing. Before that Lauren spent nine years at MassBio where she led initiatives to grow the company’s presence and helped life sciences companies raise their visibility. Lauren received her Bachelor of Arts from Fordham University. She also holds a certificate in Digital Marketing and completed the Emerging Leaders Program from UMass Boston.
Lauren lives in Dedham, MA, with her partner, his son, and their dog. She enjoys spending time at their Lake Winnipesaukee house and has dreams of buying more property and traveling the world.
I am deeply passionate about raising awareness around mental illness, so we can break the stigma that is all too often associated with mental illness. I am dedicated to mental health advocacy and helping people suffering understand that they are not alone.
One thing I’ve heard time and again from folks who read my blog is “I had no idea what it meant to be depressed until I was in it myself.” And I get it. I’ve never had a broken leg, so I have no idea what it’s like to break my leg. If you’ve never been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, it’s hard to know what it’s like, especially considering the stigma that shrouds mental illness.
You’ve probably thought it’s just feeling sad or staying in bed all day.
While those things are part of it, depression is much more than sadness and lethargy.
So, what IS it like to be in a major depressive state? Unlike breaking your leg, it typically doesn’t just happen at one point in time. Yes, some folks can attribute their depression to a traumatic episode or a point in time, but it’s still not the same as taking a fall or coming down with the flu. There is no x-ray or thermometer to measure your sickness. There are no blood tests that confirm you have depression. Identifying depression is left to the patient, their family, or their doctor and that’s only if the patient is honest.
For me, depression was like a slow, dull burn that I tried to ignore until one day I realized I was on fire.
It was like wearing a heavy coat in summer, trying to hide my scars, and thinking that maybe people didn’t notice. But also worrying maybe they are wondering why I’m wearing a parka to the beach. Maybe they are talking about me. Maybe they aren’t sure what to say. I was worrying and feeling paranoid all day long.
Depression was like doing a triathlon every day of life but without the satisfaction of completion. I felt beat down and exhausted—physically and mentally. I felt like every day I was walking through Jell-O like I couldn’t get to where I was going. At the same, I felt restless, like I couldn’t be in one place. I felt hopeless—like I was never getting out of this Jell-O, never going to finish the triathlon, and this slow-burn was never going to end.
I envisioned my usual sunny and upbeat personality as a cute little emoji being trampled by an angry, dark shadow. I felt like a smile was painted on my face—almost like the Joker. (See picture above.) Everything people said felt like a personal attack or a secret message that I didn’t understand. Any decision I had to make felt like it was the end-all and be-all. I felt paralyzed and overcome with confusion.
At the same time, I found myself saying things and doing things that weren’t aligned with who I am and what I believe in. I’d often wonder why did I say that? What am I doing? Every interaction felt like a case of verbal diarrhea like I couldn’t control what I was saying. I was drinking more to get the temporary happiness that alcohol brings. But, as Jon says, when you drink, you’re borrowing happiness from tomorrow so the next day I would feel worse. I felt like I was watching someone else play Lauren on TV.
While I never felt like I was going to hurt myself, at times I didn’t care if I lived or died. I wished something would happen to me. Wouldn’t it be great if this train just derailed? However, I was self-aware enough to know that something like that would be devastating to Jon, and I couldn’t do that to him. Jon is what kept me going. He would always say, he’s got my back, no matter what. Those words kept me going.
One day, the world seemed to collapse from under me. I had a really horrible few days and I couldn’t breathe. Every breath felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest. I couldn’t get out of bed, and I couldn’t stop crying. This was rock bottom, even though I wasn’t sure I realized that at the time.
I ended up going to the doctor. She looked at me and said, “Hon, you’re depressed.” It was so strange hearing it because I’m already on anti-depressants. I was already seeing a therapist. I have chronic depression. I felt like depression and I were buds. So why hadn’t I realized what was happening? But this was not the chronic depression that I learned how to manage; it was a major depressive episode. Medical News Today explains: "A depressive episode in the context of a major depressive disorder is a period characterized by low mood and other depression symptoms that lasts for 2 weeks or more."
Hearing her words gave me the power to own it. Even though I was still on fire, I felt like I knew what I had to do to stop the flames.
The main focus of my company, Lauren Perna Communications, is writing. We offer writing services to the life sciences and personal development industries, and I have loved writing ever since I was little. In fact, I wrote a book at the ripe age of ten. I’m not sure where that book went or if I even finished it, but it was just the beginning of my passion for writing and storytelling. There is something else that has been with me from an early age—anxiety.
My childhood anxiety was extreme and eventually segued into generalized anxiety, major depressive disorder, and other mental health issues. I have spent the majority of my life ashamed of my emotions and my diagnoses, but that all changed when I found my voice in mental health advocacy. Several years ago, I was going through a particularly rough bout of depression, and once I emerged on the other side, I knew that I had to share my story. My process was gradual and I wasn’t ready for a few years, but once I started I knew there was no turning back.
I wasn’t prepared for the impact my story left on people, but I embraced it with open arms and so began my journey as a mental health advocate. My goal is to help people understand that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of—millions of people deal with some form of mental illness, whether for a period in their life or throughout it. I have a vision of our culture becoming more accepting and compassionate towards people dealing with mental illness and mental health concerns. A mental illness is no different than a physical illness, and mental health is health.
Most importantly, I want people that are suffering to know they are not alone. If I had known how many people were like me when I was younger, maybe I would’ve sought help or shared my story much sooner.
This is just the beginning of my mental health advocacy path.
One thing I’ve heard time and again from folks who read my blog is “I had no idea what it meant to be depressed until I was in it myself.” And I get it. I’ve never had a broken leg, so I have no idea what it’s like to break my leg. If you’ve never been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, it’s hard to know what it’s like, especially considering the stigma that shrouds mental illness.
You’ve probably thought it’s just feeling sad or staying in bed all day.
While those things are part of it, depression is much more than sadness and lethargy.
So, what IS it like to be in a major depressive state? Unlike breaking your leg, it typically doesn’t just happen at one point in time. Yes, some folks can attribute their depression to a traumatic episode or a point in time, but it’s still not the same as taking a fall or coming down with the flu. There is no x-ray or thermometer to measure your sickness. There are no blood tests that confirm you have depression. Identifying depression is left to the patient, their family, or their doctor and that’s only if the patient is honest.
For me, depression was like a slow, dull burn that I tried to ignore until one day I realized I was on fire.
It was like wearing a heavy coat in summer, trying to hide my scars, and thinking that maybe people didn’t notice. But also worrying maybe they are wondering why I’m wearing a parka to the beach. Maybe they are talking about me. Maybe they aren’t sure what to say. I was worrying and feeling paranoid all day long.
Depression was like doing a triathlon every day of life but without the satisfaction of completion. I felt beat down and exhausted—physically and mentally. I felt like every day I was walking through Jell-O like I couldn’t get to where I was going. At the same, I felt restless, like I couldn’t be in one place. I felt hopeless—like I was never getting out of this Jell-O, never going to finish the triathlon, and this slow-burn was never going to end.
I envisioned my usual sunny and upbeat personality as a cute little emoji being trampled by an angry, dark shadow. I felt like a smile was painted on my face—almost like the Joker. (See picture above.) Everything people said felt like a personal attack or a secret message that I didn’t understand. Any decision I had to make felt like it was the end-all and be-all. I felt paralyzed and overcome with confusion.
At the same time, I found myself saying things and doing things that weren’t aligned with who I am and what I believe in. I’d often wonder why did I say that? What am I doing? Every interaction felt like a case of verbal diarrhea like I couldn’t control what I was saying. I was drinking more to get the temporary happiness that alcohol brings. But, as Jon says, when you drink, you’re borrowing happiness from tomorrow so the next day I would feel worse. I felt like I was watching someone else play Lauren on TV.
While I never felt like I was going to hurt myself, at times I didn’t care if I lived or died. I wished something would happen to me. Wouldn’t it be great if this train just derailed? However, I was self-aware enough to know that something like that would be devastating to Jon, and I couldn’t do that to him. Jon is what kept me going. He would always say, he’s got my back, no matter what. Those words kept me going.
One day, the world seemed to collapse from under me. I had a really horrible few days and I couldn’t breathe. Every breath felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest. I couldn’t get out of bed, and I couldn’t stop crying. This was rock bottom, even though I wasn’t sure I realized that at the time.
I ended up going to the doctor. She looked at me and said, “Hon, you’re depressed.” It was so strange hearing it because I’m already on anti-depressants. I was already seeing a therapist. I have chronic depression. I felt like depression and I were buds. So why hadn’t I realized what was happening? But this was not the chronic depression that I learned how to manage; it was a major depressive episode. Medical News Today explains: "A depressive episode in the context of a major depressive disorder is a period characterized by low mood and other depression symptoms that lasts for 2 weeks or more."
Hearing her words gave me the power to own it. Even though I was still on fire, I felt like I knew what I had to do to stop the flames.
The main focus of my company, Lauren Perna Communications, is writing. We offer writing services to the life sciences and personal development industries, and I have loved writing ever since I was little. In fact, I wrote a book at the ripe age of ten. I’m not sure where that book went or if I even finished it, but it was just the beginning of my passion for writing and storytelling. There is something else that has been with me from an early age—anxiety.
My childhood anxiety was extreme and eventually segued into generalized anxiety, major depressive disorder, and other mental health issues. I have spent the majority of my life ashamed of my emotions and my diagnoses, but that all changed when I found my voice in mental health advocacy. Several years ago, I was going through a particularly rough bout of depression, and once I emerged on the other side, I knew that I had to share my story. My process was gradual and I wasn’t ready for a few years, but once I started I knew there was no turning back.
I wasn’t prepared for the impact my story left on people, but I embraced it with open arms and so began my journey as a mental health advocate. My goal is to help people understand that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of—millions of people deal with some form of mental illness, whether for a period in their life or throughout it. I have a vision of our culture becoming more accepting and compassionate towards people dealing with mental illness and mental health concerns. A mental illness is no different than a physical illness, and mental health is health.
Most importantly, I want people that are suffering to know they are not alone. If I had known how many people were like me when I was younger, maybe I would’ve sought help or shared my story much sooner.
This is just the beginning of my mental health advocacy path.