My depression emerged when I was only six years old. It started after my dad abandoned my mom, my sister, and me. He was abusive to my mom, but I was still devastated when he left because we’d been very close. He left us with months of unpaid rent. We didn’t have any food. Sometimes we would eat ice for dinner.
I endured so much turmoil and suffering as a child. It was a level of trauma that made it hard for me to get through every single day.
Meanwhile, I was being bullied in school. I completely lost my sense of self-worth. From the ages of eleven to eighteen, I was deeply depressed. I repeatedly tried to end my life. When I went home after my freshman year of college, I attempted suicide one last time. It was almost lethal. I was hospitalized and stayed in the psychiatric ward.
After that, I started therapy and medication for my depression. It was the first time I’d had consistent treatment. I was recovering, but it took all of my willpower to get out of bed each day. To motivate myself, I would think about my mom and the sacrifices she made. I owed it to her to do my best. My hard work got me into Smith College, and I graduated in spite of the challenges I faced.
To read the rest of this article by Dior Vargas go here. Morea about the People of Color and Mental Illness Photo Project mentioned in the article can be found here.
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