Being Brave

Being Brave

Im nervously picking at my fingernails, hands shaking on the keyboard as Im typing this. My lips are set in a tight, grim line. I stare down at the daunting prompt in front of my eyes, silently reading the words.

When in your life did you feel you were the most brave?

I cant think of many moments as such. Im sure for most students, they would give you an incident in which their lives truly began. Perhaps theirs could be stories of stepping outside of their comfort zones or going on daring quests.

J.K. Rowling, the English author of the Harry Potter series, once said, It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. What she forgot to mention is that it also takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to yourself. You can be your worst enemy or best friend, but either way, standing up to yourself is hard.

I suffer from bipolar depression. I once was unable to look into a mirror without filling up to the brim with self-loathing. It has taken me a while, but I learnt the hard way to love myself and stand up to my inner demons.

I took a difficult, but frequently travelled road to get there.

On March 26th of 2015, I tried to kill myself.

When I reveal this to people, they find it shocking. Theyll say Im too smart, too pretty, too talented, too this, too that to have done so. Well, Im afraid the truth hurts, but depression knows no prejudice.

I have been struggling with depression since the 6th grade. It happened the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. I knew something was wrong with me when my thoughts slowly became darker with each passing day. My serotonin levels were shooting downwards at the speed of light. I literally could not be happy. However, there was no external reason as to why I was depressed. I had a happy childhood, a loving family, and supportive friends. I was living the life.

So why did I constantly wanted to die?

I constantly felt worthless and hopeless. The world seemed bleak and grey, like all the happiness and colour had been sucked out dry. Every day was a struggle to find the will to get out of bed and put on a smile. Despite my accolades and achievements, I couldnt help but feel useless half of the time. Happiness always felt too far away to be reached. It was the light at the end of the tunnel I could never touch.

This isnt a story to garner your pity, by the way. This isnt a story to gain your sympathy. And this especially isnt the story of a depressed girl. Its of a girl with depression. Theres a difference. I am not to be defined by my depression alone. I am many things: a sister, a friend, a daughter, a lover, and so much more. However, a defining moment would be the day I attempted suicide.

It was a peaceful Thursday. My father was sleeping upstairs, my siblings were off to Taekwondo, and my mother was out shopping for groceries. Little did they know I was plotting to never see my graduation or prom.

I stepped into the kitchen quietly, leaning on the balls of my feet to not make any noise. I procured a glass bottle of cognac and 25 Trazadone pills. I took one last look before gulping down all the contents I held within my hand.

I remembered the cognac burnt as it went down. The pills scratched roughly against the back of my throat. My father walked in just as I finished swallowing and put two and two together.

After that, everything was a blur. My father called the ambulance and I passed out once the paramedics arrived.

In the hospital, I found God again. Every nurse or doctor I encountered told me that He saved me and that it was a miracle I didnt die. I eventually believed it. Growing up, I was a devout believer. When my depression hit hard, I stopped because I was angry at God. I was hurt. Why would He do this to me? As an act of revenge, I went around calling myself an atheist. But I now believe that God saved me that Thursday night. I realise now that He loves me dearly and that my depression was just one of many struggles to help me learn and develop and grow. God gives His strongest soldiers the toughest battles. And as His soldier, my battle was my depression.

Today, I am much healthier mentally. Thanks to the help of my parents, my friends, my psychiatrists, and my therapists, my depression has been dulled from a thunderous roar to a soft whisper. Oh, its still there. Itll be there for the rest of my life. I used to think I was too weak to withstand my depression. That feeling has morphed into an understanding that I have the strength to push beyond it. I can beat it. I can fight it. It is simply an illness. It is not a fault of my personality but one of my brain chemistry. Battling your own mind is the toughest, but if you can overcome yourself, you can overcome anything. After all, you are your own worst enemy.

Im not brave because I faced Death; Im brave because I chose to live.

Finally, I am happy. I am whole. I am free.