My life has been nothing but adversity. I may be a white girl with an education, but that does not mean I have not faced an endless onslaught of obstacles, despite what many people believe. The greatest challenge I face is the fact that I am an introvert with severe anxiety, which means that being around people is not only physically and mentally draining, but it is also terrifying, and I avoid it whenever I possibly can. This not only means that I physically cannot approach people of my own volition, but that I have always been labeled as the ‘shy, quiet, weird one.’ Unlike in movies, this does not mean I am mysterious or intriguing. It just means that people give me funny looks and treat me like I am a young child or a scared animal. As if that is not bad enough, my family treated me far worse than anyone else. My mom never had any trouble finding the words to tell me exactly what horrible things she thought of me and my ‘decision’ to stay home all the time. My siblings never held back their hatred toward me due to my lack of desire to go shopping or out to eat or anywhere else. And the few friends I had were constantly disappointed in me and did not hide it. This resulted in a lot of time spent alone. To some, this may have been lonely and boring. In my case, I learned how to be alone with myself. I learned how to navigate my thoughts and feelings to know what they were and how to deal with them. I learned how to use music to help me through particularly tough times and how to determine what I needed to listen to based on how I was feeling or what was running through my head. I also learned how to think for myself because people do not always know what they are talking about, even when they think they do. I learned to be humble because the people around me always thought they knew everything, including what was going on with me, when, really, they often had no idea what was true. I learned how to have empathy because I was never shown any. Essentially, being rejected by humanity taught me how to be human, and that is a quality that I will never give back, undo, or change for any reason.

I have wanted to be a director for film and television ever since one of my best friends introduced me to iMovie when we were ten. I spent every moment, waking and sleeping, coming up with ideas, writing scripts, and coordinating times for everyone to get together so we could make another movie trailer or maybe even an actual movie! Now, I was a preteen, so resources were limited. But for a child, imagination was limitless. Years went by, we grew up, trauma dug its nails in, and I never once considered the film industry as a plausible career path. Eight years later, I'm a senior in high school, determined not to buy into the college craze. I planned to work hard and become a self-made woman, just to prove my parents wrong. And then a letter came from a small film school in California, home to some of my favorite people in the world. So, I applied just for the heck of it, not expecting anything to come of it. And then the acceptance letter came, followed by a great financial aid package. And the memories resurfaced. And the hope began to blossom. Half a year later, we packed up my stuff and drove halfway across the country in pursuit of my crazy childhood dream. The school had done an amazing job of selling itself, especially to my mom who loved that the school was Catholic. I just loved the prospect of telling stories through a medium I'd been obsessed with for as long as I could remember. Everything seemed to be coming together for the first time in my life. I was finally free to be the person I spent the last eight years suppressing. Until I wasn't. The first quarter was filled with new people, new routines, new landscapes, and a new lease on life. The second quarter was still new, but reality began to set in. By quarter three, I couldn't pretend that the school was everything it had promised anymore. The innovative wonderland of creativity was, in fact, just another hoity-toity, holier-than-thou clique full of people who thought they were better than everyone else because they charge a ton of money and let kids play with fancy equipment. I spent the fourth quarter and the month-long summer break despairing for my future which had seemed so bright only half a year ago. Everyone had already grouped up, found their niches, and I had not been included. If I couldn't stand out in school, how was I supposed to stand out in the industry? If I wasn't chosen for tiny school projects, how could I expect to be chosen on the large-scale? And then it hit me. For better or worse, this school was exactly like the film industry. And I was exactly who I'd always been. I've never belonged to a group. I've never had a niche, never been chosen. But I could make that a good thing. People who get comfortable in groups and niches end up creating Mission: Impossible or the MCU or Hallmark. They may be monetarily well-off, but they lose their individuality. I'm the only one vouching for me. I'm the only one who cares about my passions and ideas. I have to fight for myself. That will be my superpower.

The momentous transition from high school to college is something I had dreamed of since elementary school. I thought it would be this huge transformation from teen into adult. In reality, I didn't even have a graduation party. I spent the summer working to make sure I could pay tuition that I hadn't even gotten a bill for yet. And when I got to college, it was pretty mellow. When my family said goodbye, my younger siblings, who are my entire world, were the only ones who cried, not me or my parents. It only took a day or two to settle into my new routine, another month to get a new job, and only a few minutes to know that graduating from high school didn't mean I had graduated from high school problems. I still had crippling anxiety that dictated my life. I still couldn't afford groceries because I still had a sister addicted to shopping who knew I couldn't say no when she asked for money, promising she'd pay me back. I still had younger siblings stuck in a house that was destroying them from the inside out. And I still had the pressure of everyone's hopes and dreams and pride crushing me every waking moment, only now it was a million times heavier. At first, I went to therapy with the school counselor. For a while I convinced myself I was making progress with my demons. Then, after spring break, I completely shut down. I barely ate or I ate too much, I slept all the time, I stopped doing homework, and I did it all in the name of mental health. For the first time in my life, I failed a class. I hated myself more than I ever had, which is quite a feat. I had to make a choice then. I had to either drop out of school or quit therapy. In other words, I had to choose to drop the enormous pressure I was carrying and live for myself, or to put the weight back on my shoulders and live for the kids at home who were depending on me to see this through. This was my graduation. This was the moment that I transformed from teen to adult. Because I chose school. I chose to spend not only the next two years, but the rest of my life fighting for the hopes and dreams of my siblings. I refused to fail them like our older sister had failed us. I will not let anyone, or anything, take away the joy and excitement in their voices when they call me and tell me all their ideas and plans. A year ago, I would have walked away. I would have chosen to take a step back, go back home, back to everyone and everything I knew. I would have played the victim. I would have become my sister. But I'm awake now. I can accept that my life is never going to be fair. I didn't think I could live with my derelict mental health. Now I know that the defectiveness of my mind will never corrupt the beautiful potential possessed by my siblings. Potential that is mine to protect. And the me of this year will destroy every demon hell can conjure before I let anyone take it from them.

When I was a child, I was not afraid of anything except the dark. I wore the craziest clothes because I loved standing out. I spoke my mind so the entire world could hear, completely disregarding everyone who told me to stop shouting. I wrote songs and plays, put on concerts and performances for family and friends, and made all my dreams come true in my imagination. All the while, everyone – my family, my friends, my teachers, even random strangers sometimes – tried different ways to change me. Some, such as my mother and older sister, did not like who I was as a person. They wanted me to not be rambunctious and to wear clothes that looked nice but that I did not like. My friends wanted me to stop being so loud and expressive, but they also wanted me to be constantly happy and energetic. I was never sure what my teachers wanted from me but nothing I did ever seemed to be good enough. For years I told myself it did not matter what anyone else thought. I told myself that I was the only one that needed to love me in order for me to be satisfied and happy. For years my resolve slowly deteriorated and was chipped away until my way of life was reduced to going through motions that I no longer believed in. It happened so slowly that not even I noticed it. I became who everyone else wanted me to be. The only thing I could not pretend away was that I had developed a severe anxiety disorder among other things. A great love for social gatherings was replaced by a crippling fear that prevented me from leaving my house for nonessential purposes. A passion for speaking up and performing, even when I was alone, shriveled and became something I could not even think about without panicking. An enthusiasm for meeting new people and welcoming everyone in sight, participating in conversations, and building relationships with people dissipated into daydreams. And those are only a few things my anxiety took away. Except I did not realize anything was wrong. I ignored all signs and made myself believe that it was normal to be seized with terror at the prospect of being seen or heard. I repressed or manipulated memories that made me anxious. I turned down invitations to meet for coffee, youth group events, birthday parties, or anything that included a gathering of people. My excuse for evading these plans was that I just did not want to go. This caused my friends and family to become frustrated with me and pull away. I felt lonely and like I was a disappointment to everyone, including myself. When I physically could not participate in certain class assignments during my freshman year of high school, I finally realized something was not right. I began to write all my thoughts and feelings down in dozens of notebooks. For a while, I denied the possibility that I might have anxiety. I was the strong one, the invincible one. Surely I could beat a little thing like a mental illness, right? Wrong. After 3 years of missing out on dances, plays, activities, and the general high school experience, I had to decide between facing a public speaking class with my anxiety or finally talking to my mom about it. The prospect of the former caused more panic than the latter, so I faced the truth and came to terms with the fact that I needed help. I began taking medicine and being open and honest about my condition with my friends and family. Though it has been an extremely difficult and damaging journey, and will continue to be, I have confronted the most difficult truths and situations that I never thought I could. I have a long way to go but I am on the mend. And that gives me the confidence to move forward with my dreams and the hope that I will revive the best parts of the girl I used to be. Most people say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. In my experience, that is not true. I would suggest that the first step, and most important step, is to admit that there is a problem in general. I was raised to believe that mental health was a selfish excuse, not a real issue and I still have to fight with myself against this way of thinking. Until I could open my mind to the possibility that anxiety is in fact a real medical issue, there was no chance of change. So, my advice is to open yourself to the possibilities. In the case of anxiety, there is science that proves the existence of anxiety disorders. That is something I cannot argue, which means I have to believe it is true. Once you reach that conclusion, all the doors of possibility are opened, allowing your brain to create a map that leads to a better life.

"The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World is probably one of the most widely heard songs in the world. However, most people do not know the lyrics beyond the first line of the chorus and never truly appreciate the message of the song. I, on the other hand, have claimed this as my theme song since my elementary years and have had plenty of time to dissect it. The song is a response to an email the band received from a girl who was struggling to fit in because she was not "punk enough." The song is different than your generic "keep going, it'll all work out" pick-me-up song because it addresses the fact that life is a ride and we're in the middle of it. This message of taking life slow and not rushing to meet all the milestones is extremely relevant today. So many people try to stuff everything into the first thirty years of their lives and leave the rest with nothing. "The Middle" is saying there is no need to rush, there is no need to "fit in" right now, and the things that people think and say about you are not going to matter for very long. It is affirming the truth that you are the only person who will stick with you through your entire life. Since this is the case, why should we care what other people think and say about us? Yes, living this message is much easier said than done, but, at the end of the day, we have to make a choice to just live our lives or to live for the convenience of others. That is the message of "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World.

One practical solution for helping people who struggle with mental health is to be educated about the seriousness of the struggle. There are plenty of materials out there waiting to be taken advantage of and yet so many people simply do not take the time to learn about this plague. Though the internet is never fully reliable, it is at least a starting place. Knowing the symptoms of even just common mental disorders, such as anxiety, depression, OCD, and PTSD is powerful. Sometimes, the person struggling with their mental health does not live in a house that is friendly toward the ideas of chemical imbalances and emotional unwellness. These people need someone who knows the symptoms and tells of issues to be there for them and make them aware of the possibilities. So many people suffer in self-loathing because they think they are selfish cowards, even though they have no control over the way they feel. All it takes to save someone in this type of situation is the willingness to find a website or book and take a few minutes to really learn a little. The more you know, the more help you can provide. Being educated on this issue also creates sympathy and empathy in a way you cannot find in people who know little to nothing about it. Once you realize the immense struggles some people have to go through due to mental disorders, a special spot naturally opens in your heart for them, which is exactly what most people dealing with mental illness need. When someone does not understand a situation or know how to prepare for or handle it, they are told to stand on the sidelines, go home, or just let someone else worry. We need more people worrying and less on the sidelines.