"My heart broke for you."

I was 19 years old, and I had completely broken down. Again. The world around me that I thought I knew was crumbling to pieces. 

"You're worthless. You're good for nothing. You're worthless." 

These words rang over and over through my empty mind. 

I had just begun my third semester in college, and in every class, I found myself writing my suicide letter. The date would be the anniversary of my dad's suicide. Halloween. Might as well make it dramatic. 

The week before Halloween, I showed a therapist my letter. I convinced him that I wasn't serious. That it was all a joke.

He let me walk out in this state. 

When Halloween came, I got drunk. I ran up this street, with no shoes, no jacket, no dignity. Three cops stopped and asked me what I was doing, if I'd come off my meds, if I needed to go to the hospital. I walked away. 

A woman got out of her car and asked me if I was all right, asked if I wanted food. I ran away. I was shaking, sweating, biting back my last tears. In my mind, I wasn't allowed to cry. This was what I deserved. 

I started to walk out in front of a car. 

The car came to a stop, and someone got out. It was the same lady from before. She rushed out of the car, threw her jacket on me, and held me as a cried. 

She said, "When I saw you, my heart broke for you." 

She gave me new life. 

She gave me a seed of hope to plant. 

Today, I am 22 years old. After various hospital stays, various treatments, I am still on the path to recovery.

To this very day, I still hold her words close to my heart. Every time I dream about ending the suffering I endure every day, I envision that angel who saved me. 

I remember her holding me as I cried. 

I remember how truly promising life can be even when the room is dim.
 

"Damn waterfall!"

I feel this story is a little silly, but it did really affect me when it happened.

I've dealt with bullying from preschool straight through high school. By my sophomore year, I thought I'd convinced myself that nothing else could hurt me, that I've heard it all.

I was in a club meeting after school and I wasn't really feeling it. I stepped out to use the bathroom. 

The halls were quiet and the bathroom was empty. Then some girls came in after I started going, and one of them yelled, "Damn waterfall!" The girls laughed loudly and left.

I didn't see them, and they didn't see me, but it really bothered me for some reason. 

I've had a very shy bladder for about 5 years after. 

It's the same feeling people get when they're eating chips, like they're chewing too loudly, even if it's not actually bothering anyone.
 

It will not define me.

I'm a singer, actress and artist with a passion for theater. I majored in Musical Theater for 3 semesters, all while minoring in Studio Art, being an Honors student, maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and earning a reputation as the most hardworking and respectful student in my class. I was sure I had found my calling in life. 

Imagine my shock when, after confidently performing at Evaluation, I was discreetly taken to my professor's office and told that I didn't pass, and I wouldn't be allowed to continue my major. 

Because of my anxiety issues. 

Because of the bites on my arms from panic attacks. 

Because they thought I was too damaged-goods to survive in the industry. 

Well guess what? 

I just performed in Hamlet, and an expert authority on Shakespeare in the audience said it was, "The best college production of [ANYTHING they] had ever seen," and called it "professional." 

Oh, and don't get get me started on the number of famous actors who suffer every day from anxiety and mental disorder and still kick ass. 

So, yes, as long as I live I will never forget the moment my professor I looked up to told me I couldn't do it. Yes, it will haunt me for years to come.

But with God as my witness, it will not define me.