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Background Essay
Over the years, I’ve come to realize just how important self love and the belief in oneself truly is. There was once a point in which I needed to find those things in myself in order to see my way out of one of the darkest periods in my life. Since I can remember, I’ve always been a creative and artistic person. I always tried to express myself. I knew that I needed to do so if I wanted to achieve my artistic goals, though I was never perfect at this. I’ve had my ups and downs, there is no doubting that. As I have and continue to grow up, I’ve encountered a few roadblocks, including the development of early childhood mental illness. It first manifested as behavioral issues at home and in school, and later turned into people pleasing. I aimed to please everyone all of the time. I remember somehow being able to manage the pressure I put on myself and always excel in everything I did, to make sure I never upset a single person, and that I was always a source of light and positivity for everyone around me, even if, at times, doing these things cost my opportunities to grow, my sleep, my self respect and my boundaries.
Now, I see how predictable it was that my mental health ultimately took a toll on me when I started high school. The pressures I believed that I needed to put on myself made it so easy to fall behind. Around this time, I was receiving professional help from some very amazing people who did anything they could to inspire me, but I’d bottled up everything too much already. My self esteem was at an all time low. I had no motivation to do anything, and it seemed as though nothing was helping. I eventually did try medication during my very worst depressive and anxious spiral that occurred during the first semester of my sophomore year, though, like many, I was not so lucky with the first few medications I tried, and practically my entire semester consisted of either nauseous episodes, chronic drowsiness, or uncontrollable bouts of pure panic from trying to adjust to one medication when another had proven to be unhelpful. I gradually withdrew from everything because by then I truly lacked the self-worth to believe that I could get through it. As I fell further behind, I began to think that my entire life was over, as funny as that may sound now. Just before my winter break, I was hospitalized.
This turned out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me, however, as the hospital was truly the safest place I could have been at the time. My personal experience there really helped me see my mental illness in a different light, how it may be something I struggle with, but it doesn’t define me. I had the opportunity to refine my treatment plans. I was taught a variety of mindfulness practices and coping mechanisms that made me feel more confident in tackling a crisis situation, as well as preventing future spirals. Not to mention, I was placed into a group of kids who were all around the same age as me. We remained inpatient until we were discharged, which gave us practically no choice but to get to know each other better, and the amount of genuine appreciation for each other’s company, despite the fact that we were all at our lowest, helped me better understand that I was never truly worthless or alone in my feelings. Although it was probably the longest six days of my life, I came home feeling more capable of managing my mental health than I ever had before.
In present day, my symptoms of mental illness still occur on a regular basis, though I am able to better see them for what they are. They are not characteristics of mine, but merely symptoms. I still struggle sometimes with falling behind on things like school work, but the difference now is my persistence and confidence that I will be able to catch up and do better in the future. At times, I need to remind myself how to take proper care of myself like I did when I was discharged from the hospital, but I’m happiest with the progress I’ve made realizing that I actually deserve to take care of myself, just like any other person.
Now, I see how predictable it was that my mental health ultimately took a toll on me when I started high school. The pressures I believed that I needed to put on myself made it so easy to fall behind. Around this time, I was receiving professional help from some very amazing people who did anything they could to inspire me, but I’d bottled up everything too much already. My self esteem was at an all time low. I had no motivation to do anything, and it seemed as though nothing was helping. I eventually did try medication during my very worst depressive and anxious spiral that occurred during the first semester of my sophomore year, though, like many, I was not so lucky with the first few medications I tried, and practically my entire semester consisted of either nauseous episodes, chronic drowsiness, or uncontrollable bouts of pure panic from trying to adjust to one medication when another had proven to be unhelpful. I gradually withdrew from everything because by then I truly lacked the self-worth to believe that I could get through it. As I fell further behind, I began to think that my entire life was over, as funny as that may sound now. Just before my winter break, I was hospitalized.
This turned out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me, however, as the hospital was truly the safest place I could have been at the time. My personal experience there really helped me see my mental illness in a different light, how it may be something I struggle with, but it doesn’t define me. I had the opportunity to refine my treatment plans. I was taught a variety of mindfulness practices and coping mechanisms that made me feel more confident in tackling a crisis situation, as well as preventing future spirals. Not to mention, I was placed into a group of kids who were all around the same age as me. We remained inpatient until we were discharged, which gave us practically no choice but to get to know each other better, and the amount of genuine appreciation for each other’s company, despite the fact that we were all at our lowest, helped me better understand that I was never truly worthless or alone in my feelings. Although it was probably the longest six days of my life, I came home feeling more capable of managing my mental health than I ever had before.
In present day, my symptoms of mental illness still occur on a regular basis, though I am able to better see them for what they are. They are not characteristics of mine, but merely symptoms. I still struggle sometimes with falling behind on things like school work, but the difference now is my persistence and confidence that I will be able to catch up and do better in the future. At times, I need to remind myself how to take proper care of myself like I did when I was discharged from the hospital, but I’m happiest with the progress I’ve made realizing that I actually deserve to take care of myself, just like any other person.