According to CDC Suicide Data and Statistics in 2023, suicide was the cause of over 49,000 deaths. It’s unfortunate that it takes so many lives on a day-to-day basis, but it almost happened to me.

I was born with a rare condition, Goldenhar Syndrome, a congenital condition characterized by abnormal development of the ears, eyes, and spine, leading to my face being uneven. In elementary school, I knew I was different; my family always assured me I was normal, just like any other kid. I never knew that the understanding of kids my age would perceive me differently. I was bullied, mocked, and stared at. I was called nicknames such as “two-face”, “stupid”, among other names. 

Kids asked questions in front of everyone in elementary school, “What’s wrong with your face?” “Why do you talk like that?”What happened to your ear?” I was mocked for my crooked smile. I personalized everything and believed them. I started saying I sound like a goat, my self-esteem dropped, and I self-critiqued myself young. Essentially, it left me feeling ugly and broken.

During recess, out of twenty-some kids, I was last in sports like kickball, football, and soccer. I felt pressure to prove myself when I was trying my best. I wanted to take my life because of negativity, pressure, consistent bullying, and shame that nobody understood or empathized with throughout elementary school.

As social media evolved, apps like Snapchat and Instagram only fueled negativity. I felt alone and was hard on myself, and I compared myself to what I saw online. I felt no purpose in life by age 14. Time went by, and the thought of anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and frustration was a part of my daily life. Entering high school was worse. Suicidal thoughts fueled by trauma, pressure, and self-expectations were constant during my sophomore year. Seeing different therapists and psychiatric doctors, I was losing control of myself. 

After graduating from high school, I struggled in community college. My mental health was tearing me apart. I got in trouble, failed multiple classes, and nearly flunked out of college.

My mom consulted me about a new therapist who would help me look at my thinking clearly. Initially, I was in full denial and closed off the possibility. I didn’t want a new therapist, but agreed to try. I started seeing her, but was extremely resistant towards talking about my feelings. During sessions on Zoom, I was full of anger, resentment, frustration, trauma, and distorted thoughts. I yelled and ranted a lot; my therapist didn’t know what to do or say. 

Time evolved through week-to-week sessions. I started self-reflection and thinking clearly about what happened to me. I made peace with what happened in the past, realizing it wasn’t my fault. I moved into being present, grateful for life. I learned to challenge the negative thoughts that had trapped me for years. I focused on my strengths instead of bashing my weaknesses.

Slowly, things changed. After a year and a half of countless hours on Zoom, I changed my major. And dug myself out of a hole. I built good habits like golfing, journaling, and opening up to people outside my comfort zone. Bit by bit, I found joy again. I had the mindset that being different made me unique; I had something to give, a story to tell, and needed to prove everyone and everything in my head wrong. 

I allowed that fuel to make me, not break me. I became happier, my self-esteem went up, and I found purpose in life. I made real friendships, connections, and met my partner. I allowed myself to be emotionally vulnerable and transparent. I finished my A.A. in Journalism and transferred to a CSU to continue the path in my field. 

If you feel suicidal, please know it’s not your fault, you’re not alone. Having emotions doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human. Everyone has struggles. Everyone has their own personal struggle, so try to be kind and check in with your friends or family. A simple “How are you feeling?” or “Are you doing OK?” can save someone’s life. Don’t give up, keep looking for the light.