Personal Essay

I've never been one to pace away my nervousness. The pitching and rolling of my thoughts is enough to induce sickness, let alone accompanied by roused legs. My chest is tightening, but not just in my chest. It has engulfed the entire area from the top of my throat to the part of your stomach where you can feel gas rumble. It is tightening and squeezing and choking. I wiggle my toes inside my shoes to make sure I still can. Outside the window, cars slowly pull out of parking spots and escape from my view. I think there might be people inside them. Inside the window, I am whispering every word I intend to say and using my hands to guide one word into the next.

Though I am the president of Active Minds at Ithaca College, I have never once participated in a Speak Your Mind Panel–my schedule is usually filled with a heavy combination of high expectations and self-loathing. I bullied myself into signing up to panel under the guise that my story could help someone else, and keeping it from them was hurting them. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to feel half the pain and suffering that I felt I had. I was the only one who deserved it.

I walk into the lecture hall and sit down at a table in the front, beside other officers and Active Minds members, from which I demand respect, and before a room of curious onlookers. Some of which I see everyday, others I will never see again. I am the final panelist, yet it is not long until all eyes are on me.

I begin to speak the words I had practiced so vigorously by the window. I look out into a sea of strangers, bouncing my eye contact from person to person, while I stammer to tell a story of perseverance. I tell them about the times I was sexually assaulted. I tell them about being diagnosed with a chronic auto-immune disease. I tell them about losing my father. I tell them about being bullied, fighting with my sexuality, abusive relationships, and suicidal ideation. I tell them about a happy ending in which I'm smiling and taking things one day at a time. For a moment, that is true. They clap and for a moment I feel accepted and wanted. I smile at the thought of the boy in the back deciding that if I had enough strength to stay alive tonight, maybe he did too. Though I'm not sure if I can hold up my end of the bargain, for the moment, it might just all be worth it.