My life is like a plastic water bottle, people take from me, use me, and then throw me away. Expecting the water bottle to break down, most people leave it. They think that once something is used, it's better to get something new. But then there are those who save water bottles. In this case, I was the saved water bottle. Getting stripped by the second, tossed away like trash, and never being seen or heard, I met someone. Whether it was saving a water bottle or saving a person, the act of saving something is like welcoming it into a new life. That second chance at life gives us the opportunity to be useful, to accomplish, even to give to those who have taken from us. As someone who aspires to help others, I want to bring out the potential within those who doubt themselves, the security and comfort of a “welcome home”, and above all, I want to return my thanks and appreciation to the person who saved me by saving others.

I was born into a family of five. As the middle child, I was constantly compared to my older brother and viewed as a new product. After my parents failed each other, they abandoned their eldest son. Fixated on creating something “good” this time they neglected my emotional needs and health. Ever since I remember, I've always had long hair. In school I would be purposefully excluded, bullied, and misgendered because of it. As a result, I faced identity issues for years until I finally cut my hair at the age of 13. That's also when people stopped using me as a laughing stock. Even so, I felt distant at home. My siblings only cared about themselves and my parents fought over everything and would always use me as a reason to fight. Losing any reason to believe in self value, I saw myself as a mistake, someone who should just keep quiet and do what they’re told. Having lost any and all sorts of independence, I let myself get dragged under the dirt as many times as they needed. As I became more and more okay with everything that was happening to me I felt alone yet perfectly normal.

Essentially becoming numb, I didn’t take care of myself, I didn’t ask or wonder like most. I just followed orders. My orders were to go to school and succeed in life but, just because you couldn't finish school doesn't mean I have to be your personal Albert Einstein. Constantly hearing things like “School isn’t hard” or “School is for us to learn, not fail,” is outrageously exhausting. Although I never liked school, I had perfect grades and perfect attendance. Most people think that someone who is on the top is lucky or smart. I hate to be the one to tell you this but, most who are at the top don't feel like that. I had to deal with, “You better not skip school...get better grades...why did you get a B?” Constantly being told to try harder when you are already trying your hardest isn't what anyone wants. When someone tries to accomplish something, you don’t say, “That's not good enough.” It would be more helpful to simply say ”Good job!” The difference is that in one statement you invalidate their effort and, in the other, you acknowledge them and show them that they are something to be proud of.

Like David Richo said “Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us.” This is because the only way we can truly say we have lived is by experiencing grief. Every aspect of life has a form of grief. But you are the only one who can decide what to do with it. In my form of grief, I let myself get degraded until someone showed me I was worth living. If you grief differently, that doesn't mean you don’t know how to grief, it just means that you’re human. The psychological scars within us are there to help make us stronger, to avoid more discomfort, and to look back on. I was saved by getting acknowledged for the first time, the feeling of being able to depend on someone else instead of having to be the dependable one lifted the greatest burden that would have never allowed me to write this for you. So, I want you to text or call or write or talk to or with someone you appreciate and tell them, “I’m glad you were in my life,” whether or not that person is still in your life. After all, they might be the reason you’re here today.