Ever since I was a kid, I fought an internal war with myself. I never knew how to treat depression, what therapy was, or how I could find support within my community. Growing up, I had friends suffer from depression and, at the time, thought self-harming was “OK,” and it temporarily got rid of the pain that we felt inside our heads. When one of my good friends committed suicide, the self-harming became worse, and thoughts of suicide became more apparent in my mind.

After being treated for my friend’s passing, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at the age of 14. I participated in group therapy and felt the support from my friends and parents made this particular phase in my life a little more bearable. However, as I grew older, my body started to change, and being the “fat” girl in my family became another uphill battle. The community that made me feel safe made me want to self-harm again and again and again, to the point where I would carve “stupid” or “fat” into my arm. I hated myself once again. Finding the right medication made me gain a significant amount of weight. At one point, I was taking 9 different medications. I felt like a zombie - lifeless and couldn’t drive myself anywhere. Still to this day, comments about my physical appearance haunt me, and unfortunately, I continue to hear remarks about my weight.

I’ve always been insecure and felt that I was never enough. After an assault in 2012, I fought another internal battle with myself and my assailant. Recognizing the need for help just days later, I confided in my criminal justice teacher, who promptly reported the incident to the police due to my minor status. Grateful for my teacher's support, my assailant was arrested shortly after. However, my journey had more challenges in store. Already grappling with depression from a young age, the assault exacerbated my struggles, leading to my diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. My experience being a survivor of sexual assault challenged me to a point where I tried to take my own life in 2016.

That moment in 2016 is etched in my memory—a time when the weight of the world felt like too much to bear. I remember feeling like I was completely alone. There was this overwhelming silence, a void where I felt unheard and unseen, and it consumed me. It felt like every path was blocked, and the idea of facing another day was unbearable. So I swallowed over 100 pills, thinking that maybe that would be it—maybe the pain would finally stop. I didn’t expect to wake up again.

I woke up in a hospital bed a couple of days later, and the fog of those moments still lingers. I wasn’t sure how to feel at first—relief, confusion, anger, or sadness. I just knew that I was still here. Surviving that moment marked the beginning of a different journey for me, one where I’ve slowly learned that my voice does matter and that healing is possible.

In that moment of survival, I found a new beginning—not just for myself, but for anyone who has ever felt lost and alone. And I won’t stop until more people hear this truth: You matter, and there is always a way forward.

Looking back, I wish I had charged my assailant with restitution. The financial support could have helped me navigate the rough path I was on, offering some form of justice and relief for the emotional and psychological toll it took on me.

I am thankful for the friends who supported me through every challenge and so very grateful for my parents, who never gave up on me. If you have a similar story or know someone impacted by sexual assault, mental illness, or domestic violence, please reach out. Remember, you are not alone. SAMA is here to offer support and create a community where survivors and individuals facing mental health challenges can find understanding, empathy, and empowerment. Together, we can make a difference.