Mental health was never something discussed in my childhood. It was something lived through. Long before I understood what anxiety, depression, or trauma meant, they had already become part of my everyday life. I learned how to survive before I learned how to be a kid. That experience changed the way I see the world, the way I build relationships, and the goals I have for my future.
I grew up in an environment where instability was normal. My mother worked as a prostitute and, at times, as a stripper to make ends meet. She often disappeared for days, leaving me at home to care for my younger sisters. We moved from one neighborhood to another, spending time in rundown trailer parks and dangerous parts of town. I learned how to cook simple meals, calm crying children, and make sure everyone made it through the night. Those responsibilities belonged to an adult, yet they became mine before I was old enough to understand why.
Some of the people my mother brought into our lives made home feel even less safe. I experienced physical and emotional abuse from men who were supposed to be temporary visitors but left permanent scars. Every day felt unpredictable. I never knew whether I would wake up to yelling, police officers, or another move. Living that way teaches a child that peace is temporary and safety is something other people have.
When my mother was arrested, I finally experienced what stability could feel like while living with my grandparents. For the first time, I had a place where I could sleep without wondering what would happen next. That peace did not last. Child Protective Services nearly placed me into foster care before my grandmother arranged for me to live with a guardian. I hoped it would be a fresh start, but it became another chapter of abuse.
My guardian struggled with alcohol and drug addiction. I was constantly reminded that nothing truly belonged to me. Birthday money disappeared before I could spend it. I was never allowed to keep my own earnings or become independent because any money I had was taken. The emotional abuse convinced me that I was worth only what someone else could take from me. By the time I reached high school, I had spent years believing my future would look exactly like my past.
Eventually, the weight of everything I had experienced became too much. I reached a point where I believed there was no way out. After attempting to take my own life, I was admitted to Cedar Crest Hospital. Looking back, I realize I was not weak. I was a child carrying years of trauma without ever being taught how to process it. My mental health had become another casualty of the environment I grew up in.
Leaving the hospital did not instantly heal me. Recovery was slow, uncomfortable, and filled with setbacks. For a long time, I carried anger toward everyone who had failed me. Then something changed. I realized that if I continued allowing my past to define me, the people who hurt me would continue controlling my future. I stopped seeing myself only as a victim of my surroundings. Instead, I decided to become the person who finally ended that cycle.
After graduating from high school, I left. I moved in with my grandmother before eventually getting my own apartment. Today I pay my own rent, manage my own bills, and work to support myself while attending college full time. Every bill I pay reminds me that I built a life no one thought I would have. Every assignment I complete proves that my past does not determine my future. Maintaining a 4.0 GPA is more than an academic achievement to me. It represents every obstacle that was supposed to stop me but did not.
My experiences have also shaped the way I treat other people. I know what it feels like to be ignored, dismissed, and unheard. Because of that, I try to be the person who listens without judgment. I understand that someone can appear perfectly fine while carrying burdens no one else sees. Mental health has taught me that compassion is not weakness. Sometimes it is the difference between someone giving up and someone finding the strength to keep going.
The world has shown me cruelty, addiction, abuse, and poverty, but it has also shown me that resilience can exist alongside all of them. My goal is no longer simply to escape my past. It is to build a future that proves it does not have the final word. Higher education is part of that future. Every class I complete brings me closer to a career where I can tell meaningful stories and create work that gives hope to people who, like me, once believed there was none.
Mental health did not simply shape my understanding of the world. It reshaped my understanding of myself. I am no longer the frightened child trying to survive one more day. I am a college student, independent, determined, and living proof that where someone begins is not where they have to end.