“Can I please get help?”; my first therapy session over three years ago; my first year of being clean. I asked my mom for help to be happy again. My first session was the beginning to my recovery. My first year clean was from hurting myself-it was an accomplishment I never thought I would live to see.

Today, I am finally happy. I have amazing friends, I am on the correct medications, and my stepfather is more of my father than anyone else. Compared to seventh grade me, I know the everything about myself. Eighth-grade-Des would cry at how happy I am after everything I went through. I am only here because I learned from each experience.  

The first year of being clean felt… liberating. Exciting. Encouraging. To be blunt, I thought I would be dead at the end of eighth grade. I struggled more than I thought. I shook and scratched myself. But I eventually made it. I cried the entire day of the anniversary. I made it. I can be happy. I will be the person I aspire to be. Lesson: people can change for the better.

Asking for help was... Hell. Terrifying. Disgracing. Little did I know, that was the strongest I had been so far. Admitting I needed help was the biggest step of courage I have ever taken. I learned that it is alright to be weak. Being weak allows room to grow and learn. My mother was finally there for me, and my biological father was cut from the family. Lesson: it is alright to depend on someone who is not myself for once.

The therapy session caused… anxiety. Relief. Fear. Would I like her? Would she categorize me nothing more than as a selfish teen who knew nothing? The answers were yes and no. I have not needed another therapist. She talked through everything with me. She gave me coping mechanisms for my anxiety and mood swings. She has been through more with me than anyone in my family. Sometimes, we simply talk, or she goes into depth on how I can help myself. Our sessions made me more confident. She helped me realize I am Des. Not Depression. Not PTSD. Not Bipolar. Just me. Lesson: my mental illnesses do not define me.

Dependence, change, and definition. That is what I learned, and they were not taught to me the easy way. They never will be easy for any person. Too little or too much is unhealthy. Each person needs to find his flawed but healthy middle ground. I have never cared for people more than I do today. I have more empathy for the peers around me for everyone experiences different emotions and experiences.

My shy and struggling friends are encouraged to talk to me or their parents for help by me. I want them to feel safe and able to trust someone. I work with my four younger and rambunctious siblings on changing their attitudes towards life and people instead of keeping their stubborn view of negatives. I am working on defining myself so I will love myself. I have so much to offer, and I plan to continue.