You may know me as your above-average, goody two-shoes girl from a small town in eastern Pennsylvania. I live with my family in a suburban home with a big backyard, and a sizable pool to boot. Most of my days consist of school, theatre rehearsal, playing with my two cats, and writing new articles for The Odyssey Online. I’m a current member of the National Honors Society, have volunteered at the DaVinci Science Center over the summer, and am an active member of my high school's Drama Club, attending the Pennsylvania State Thespian Conference for the past five years, as well as taking part in several shows over the course of my high school career. From this description, you may consider my life to be full of rainbows and dancing unicorns.
But unicorns aren’t real, and rainbows only come after the rain. Ever since I was a child, I have been one of two things: shy or emotional. I grew up going to a private elementary school, full of snobby, entitled kids, and it was there that I learned that not everyone is as big-hearted and soft spoken as I am. As a result, I am paranoid about people’s perceptions of me and how they may talk about me when I am not around, and that feeling of inadequacy followed me into my adolescence.
Fast forward to the fall of 2014, when I landed in Horsham Clinic, a private institution dedicated to mental health care for those in need. Over the course of several months, I developed a serious problem with self harm It felt like I could never satisfy my mother and her expectations of me. I was under pressure to always be the perfect child and student, my relationship at that time was unsupportive at best, and I truly felt like that there was no one on the planet that I could talk to about the way that I felt without it coming back to bite me because every message that I received would also be sent to my mother as well (This is a parental restriction that can be used on most Apple iPhones). The question that plagued me: “What would change if I just killed myself?” was ever present. The idea of taking my own life seemed not only comforting, but something that was going to happen at one point or another. My breaking point was when my mother had walked in our bathroom after I finished carving out the word ‘fat’ on my lower right hand abdominal area. After that day, my life was a spinning carousel of therapists, long winded phone calls, and paperwork. Getting off of that ride was dizzying, but that wasn’t the reason that I felt sick to my stomach on the first day of my treatment.
My days at Horsham consisted of group therapy sessions, tackling our unresolved inner conflicts, forming close friendships, and meeting with a psychiatrist once a week to discuss my medication. I was officially diagnosed with major depressive disorder and general anxiety disorder. I learned how to deal with my stress and how to turn the things that would once crush me into things that motivate me to do my best and keep on thriving. One of the things that I remember the most about Horsham was watching a film called Freedom Writers. The film stuck with me for reasons that I cannot explain, but whenever I think about the ability of the teenagers of the film to overcome the stigmas and prejudiced thoughts handed to them, I think that it reflects on who I am as a person too. Even though I have grown up in a world where it is considered weak to show emotions and have struggled with vocalizing them, I know I am stronger than that stigma.
Horsham showed me the building blocks of recovery, and I have turned them into a magnificent skyscraper. I have pushed myself to improve in every aspect of my life, but I have also strived to help others along the way. Going the extra mile for those that need my help or guidance, maintaining a 3.8 GPA average, as well as participate in numerous volunteering opportunities. Since 2014, I have officially been two years clean from self harm. I no longer see a therapist regularly and have completely stopped taking the medication I was prescribed. Shortly after leaving Horsham, my toxic relationship ended, but through that I have been blessed to find a partner that truly loves me and always encourages me to give one hundred percent in whatever I do. I have grown so much since I first took that razor blade to my arms, and I want to continue that growth so that no one has to feel the fear of talking about their disorders. If I want to see change in the world, there has to be someone to get the ball rolling, so why not me?
