To Those Who Are Misunderstood, You Are Not Alone
I lost interest in almost everything, that I lost myself too.
In junior high school, I, tagged as rebellious, reckless, tactless, extremely “lazy,” and undisciplined, was misunderstood and scorched. None, including the guidance counselors, sought symptoms of my condition. The faculty came up with ridiculous assumptions regarding the causes of my onerous behavior and attitude, which made my reputation even worse. Little did I notice that the treatment I received from my fellow students and the faculty made my mental illnesses worse—shunned from the school community. Yet, during those years, no one knew how hard I was dealing with my personal issues, but I couldn’t utter nor scream for help because even I couldn’t understand my mental state; mental illness wasn’t an acceptable condition. In my senior year, I was in a new academic environment. People around me were fantastic and loving. However, despite their love and support, the chaos inside my head persisted, and my behavior deteriorated. There came to a point wherein my illnesses got severe, wherein I attempted multiple suicides and self-harm, but I survived them. Despite the inner turmoil, suicide attempts, and self-harm, a part of me never gave up.
After a psychologist conducted a psychological assessment in my new school, my results indicated that I may be mentally ill. There, I realized that I should seek professional help. It took me 5 years to accept the fact that I am mentally ill and took me 6 years to get professional help. After all, I've realized that I was not a bad person, only misunderstood and untreated. The medication and awareness that I received uplifted my mental health. Although there's no assurance that lapses can be completely eradicated, at least, there is progress.
I am very fortunate and grateful to be surrounded by supportive friends and family who accept and help me with my personal predicaments. Together, they and I saved me.