Learning to Believe in Myself

I have lived with depression for as long as I can remember.

It began when I was around twelve years old, but the experiences that shaped it started even earlier. As a child, I experienced sexual abuse by someone I knew and trusted. I carried an overwhelming sense of shame and believed that what had happened was somehow my fault. I felt different from everyone around me, as though people could see the pain I was carrying.

Around that time I also experienced bullying at school. I struggled to feel accepted and often believed I wasn't good enough. Eventually I began using self-harm as a way to cope with emotions I didn't know how to express. I kept it hidden from almost everyone.

People encouraged me to seek help, but I wasn't ready. I convinced myself that counselling couldn't help me, and I was determined to pretend everything was okay whenever anyone asked.

As I grew older, my mental health continued to decline. The self-harm became more frequent, reflecting just how overwhelmed I felt inside. During my early teenage years I experienced further sexual abuse by the same person. At the time I blamed myself and struggled to recognise that I had been harmed. It took a long time before I understood that none of it was my fault.

Around the same period I was diagnosed with endometriosis after experiencing severe pain that doctors eventually investigated. Receiving a diagnosis answered some questions, but it also brought new fears about my health and future.

A turning point came during a church camp, where I finally realised that what had happened to me was abuse, not something I had caused. For the first time, I spoke to someone I trusted. They helped me access counselling, and because my family couldn't afford it, my local church supported me in getting the help I needed.

Counselling gave me a safe place to begin talking about my experiences. Although it wasn't an instant solution, it helped me start understanding my trauma instead of carrying it alone.

There were still many difficult days.

My depression became increasingly severe, and I found it hard to attend school regularly. During this time I became involved in an unhealthy relationship with an older person who made me feel understood when I desperately needed connection. Looking back now, I can see how vulnerable I was and how easily that vulnerability was taken advantage of.

When the relationship came to light, there was a police investigation. I carried enormous guilt, believing I had ruined someone else's life simply by telling the truth. That guilt became overwhelming.

There were several times when I reached such a low point that I believed everyone would be better off without me. I experienced suicidal thoughts and made attempts to end my life. Each time, I survived because people around me recognised that I needed help.

Over the next few years I spent time in hospital on several occasions while receiving treatment for depression and staying safe during periods of crisis. I also attended counselling, day programs and psychiatric care. At first I resisted many of the supports that were offered, but gradually I began learning healthier ways to cope.

Recovery wasn't straightforward.

There were setbacks. I faced false accusations that caused enormous stress and led to another mental health crisis. I developed an eating disorder as another way of trying to regain control over emotions that felt impossible to manage. I continued to battle self-harm and periods of hopelessness.

But alongside all of those struggles, something slowly began to change.

Each time I accepted help, I became a little stronger.

Each time I chose to stay, even when it felt impossible, I gave myself another chance.

Over time I learned that healing isn't about pretending painful things never happened. It's about learning that those experiences do not have to define your future.

I was eventually able to graduate from high school early and attend the university I had always dreamed about. I found healthy relationships built on respect instead of fear, and I discovered that hope can quietly return, even after years of believing it never would.

Life still isn't perfect.

There are still difficult days. There are moments when old thoughts and old feelings resurface. Healing hasn't erased my past, but it has changed my relationship with it.

Today I know that asking for help is a strength, not a weakness.