There have been more times than I can count where I have felt completely hopeless and alone.
When I was in eighth grade, my sister was admitted to a mental health facility. By seeing my sister go through that - along with being pushed away because I was deemed as too young or ignorant to understand - I began to develop anxiety and depression. Living with these and not knowing what they were or that I even had them was difficult because I felt as though I had no excuse for the way I was feeling and that maybe I was just a failure like I began telling myself.
Years passed and I began psychoanalytical therapy to try and understand and cope with the traumatic events I had gone through and witnessed.
Going through high school has been one of the worst points of my life. During my sophomore year, I began to self-harm and continued through my junior year. In November of 2015, I stopped self-harming and thought I would never try it again until the year slowly got more difficult to handle.
In January of this year, I was sexually taken advantage of and that began a spiral of thoughts that sent me back down the path of depression. I didn't even know how to consider what had happened because I was so ashamed even though I didn't say yes and continually tried to leave, I didn't say no either. The pent up frustration, self-loathing and hopelessness all were released in April when I relapsed three times in 3 days.
On that Sunday - after a mission trip meeting of all things - I confessed to my parents that I was going to try and take too much of my sleeping medication that night. I had hit my lowest point and wasn't even able to breathe as I sobbed into their shoulders. The next day, I went to an emergency therapy session and ended up in treatment where I stayed for a week and ended up making a friend - terrible situation, but she and I are still friends.
In my time in treatment, I had a lot of time to reflect in between group sessions and bland meals and realized that I had so much to look forward to if I could just find my way past the days where I couldn't help myself.
Now, seven and a half months clean from self harm and out of treatment, I find myself coming to terms with my thoughts and who I am. I obviously still have days where I want to give up and revert back to my old ways, but having a support system of family and friends behind me is what keeps me going. I listen to and write music, I go outside, I hike, I've applied to colleges, and most importantly, I'm learning to love myself.
And that is the bravest thing anyone can do.
