Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts

Friday, April 8, 2016

Bucket List: My College Essay

Bucket List


Growing up, I constantly wanted to participate in community service. This desire to help people with their problems, physical or mental, has turned into my hope of becoming a social worker. I want to spend my entire life helping others, yet at one point in my life, I refused to let anybody help me.
Becoming a social worker has been influenced by my personal history. During my high school career I underwent two surgeries. I failed countless musical auditions. I always felt out of place because I was too mature for my age. In March of my junior year, I experienced my best friend turning on me, which turned into three girls from school posting about me on social media. This led to a significant change in my attitude, which was quickly noticed by my parents. I found myself sitting in the doctor’s office, where I experienced an unforgettable moment when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety.
My immediate reaction was denial. I thought I was a burden to others, and I felt as if I wasn’t worthy of help. I had no interest in talking to friends because I assumed they would make fun of me if I admitted my weaknesses. I wouldn’t tell my mother anything either. But then, during a therapy session, two words on a piece of paper changed my entire mental state.
I walked into my therapist’s office one day, and she was sitting at the table in the middle of the room with markers and blank sheets of paper. As I sat down at the table, she showed me the first sheet of paper where she had written the words, “Bucket List.” I took the paper from her and wrote a long list of things I want to do before I die. Then she gave me a new piece of paper and told me to write my ultimate life goal. My goal was to help others who believed they were not worthy of receiving help; someone just like me.
After that therapy session I slowly let more people into my life. I started with my mother, and then branched out and told two of my closest friends. I asked for their forgiveness because I hadn’t trusted them or allowed them to help me through my struggles. Then I told more of my friends, and I was relieved when not a single person judged me because of my illness. I stopped pushing people away, and I was more open about my feelings. When I started allowing myself to receive help from others, I found strength. I was able to fight the depression and anxiety, and today, I am proud to say that I am able to successfully cope with the stresses of life. I learned that life is not meant to be painless, but I found accepting help makes life a lot less lonely.
Helping others has always been easy for me to do, but receiving help from others turned out to be extremely difficult. I will always remember the day I was diagnosed, because I thought it was the weakest moment of my entire life; but another day I will always remember is the day I finished my treatment. My therapist looked at me at the end of my last appointment with a smile lighting up her face, and she simply said, “You made it.”  

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Words Do Matter, Even If You're "Kidding"

You called a six year old girl on the playground stupid. When she got upset and told the teacher, you said you were just kidding and didn't really mean it. The girl forgot about it the next day, and the teacher blew it off. Boys tease girls that they like. 

You called a twelve year old girl in class nerdy. When she was offended and complained to her mom, you said you were just joking around. She didn't take it as a joke, but everyone else let it go. Boys will be boys. 

You called a sixteen year old girl in the cafeteria a slut. When she felt hurt and explained it to her friends, they told her it was because you wanted her. Because you liked her. She was stung by the comment, but everyone told her to forget about it. Boys insult girls that they want.

You called an eighteen year old girl easy. You said she was too feisty. Too sassy all the time. You told her she was angry all the time and that she constantly had the face of a bitch. You said she needed to do her hair and make-up differently because it would make her look better. You told her to stop talking about things that made her happy because she talked about them for too long and you just didn't want to hear about it. You made fun of her every move. 

She was damaged by every single insult, but you habitually said you were just fucking around and didn't actually mean it. She complained to her friends, but they told her to take a joke once in awhile and to not be so uptight. Boys tease girls that they like. Boys will be boys. Boys insult girls that they want. 

But I bet you didn't know that the girl you insulted for personal amusement cried about it. She tried to change herself to make you stop insulting her, but it never ended. You abused her so badly that she thought about hurting herself. She hasn't gotten there yet, but she could. You wounded her every time you spoke to her, and you didn't even notice, nor did you care. 

Make sure you think about what you're saying before you say it. Make sure the psychological damage to that girl is worth your personal pleasure and your friends' laughter and respect. Make sure her emotional instability is worth your insincere friendships that are based on your ability to degrade that girl. Make sure it's worth it. 

Sticks and stones may break bones, but words definitely break minds and hearts. There is always some truth behind every insult, whether you say you're kidding or not. Think before you speak, because that girl is an emotional wreck due to the wounds and pain you have inflicted on her.