Essay Idea #4

My mother's family is from the Azores, so naturally my older sister and I were raised staunchly Roman-Catholic. I have so many memories from my childhood, many of them shaped by my faith. I remember going to church every Sunday, and eating donuts after mass. I recall all of the times I spent with my friends at CCD. I cannot help but recollect about playing an angel in the Christmas pageant or Mary in the reading of the Passion, having my nose filled with incense.
When I was thirteen I started questioning what I had been taught my whole life. It was not rebellion or fighting the power. I had been bullied severely for several years, and I could not process why I had been through what I had been through. I could not understand how the trauma could have occurred-why would God have let this happen to me? I had been faithful as a little girl, and always kept a miniature Nativity scene besides my bed. Why would God have left me alone? I turned away from a community that had once brought me comfort. Adding to the sadness I felt about what had happened in the past, there was this new loss. My mother insisted I keep going to CCD and to mass. She wanted me to continue getting the sacraments and to eventually get confirmed. For me, I felt that there was no meaning to it, and I pushed it away as stubbornly as she pushed for it.
I ironically applied to Saint Raphael Academy when I was in eighth grade. Despite how insistent everyone seemed to be towards religion, it was at least an escape from all the negativity and sadness I had felt in elementary and junior high school. Many of the upperclassmen talked about how Saints had changed them, but I never felt that way until my sophomore year, when the Drama Club put on a production of Godspell. I worked on costumes for the show and was part of the stage crew. Godspell quickly became my favorite play. Finally there was a religious story that I could actually feel like I was part of. I was able to understand the meaning of Catholicism, through the community and trust the cast and crew built towards one another. I could identify with the feelings of being completely isolated, and finally feeling welcome in a newfound community. I could definitely see myself as Jesus, having been betrayed by close friends before. Overall it was probably one of the most important events in all of my high school career.
So when I finally was able to get confirmed, I did it wholeheartedly. I remember my confirmation in vivid detail. The smell of incense, the feeling of the chrism on my forehead. I picked Saint Joan of Arc for my saint name. Like me, she had been misunderstood and mistreated, but she had risen above it with honor and dignity. To many people, a confirmation may not seem like a very big deal. But to Catholics, it is a symbol of becoming an adult in the church. When I became Emily Joan Craig, I had finally become an adult, and I was happy I had achieved this milestone.

Essay Idea #1

Mental illness has always shaped my life. The first time I went to a therapist, I was seven years old. I was having problems with OCD. It is a misconception that OCD is simply cleaning and hating germs. For me, it was switching lights on and off, turning the kitchen faucet back and forth, and opening and closing doors. I have a history of self harm, which started when I was only thirteen years old. For someone who was raised in such a loving, supportive household, the way I would mistreat myself might seem almost ridiculous. But for such a young person, who had no idea what was going on or why I felt so terrible, it was the only way to force my feelings out of my system. By the time I attempted suicide, I had dealt with cutting, depression, and anxiety.
The hours after my suicide attempt were probably the most uncomfortable in my life. My mom insisted on staying with me in the ER, which she probably thought would be comforting. It was, of course, the exact opposite. Between glaring at me and yelling at me, it only made me feel more awful about the situation.
I am not proud of what my life has been like, or the violence I have inflicted on myself. For some reason, there is a sense of shame around mental illness. Those who are mentally ill are seen as unstable and dangerous, but in my case, I felt heartbroken and overwhelmed. But just because I am not happy about the past, does it mean that my future is set in place, or that I should feel ashamed.
Mental illness is just what the name says-an illness. If those who were depressed were treated like those who have cancer, maybe they would be given love and encouragement, instead of being told they are lazy and worthless.
People consider suicide to be cowardly. In my opinion, they have no idea how much courage it takes to not only admit there is a problem, but to ask for help. It is so incredibly difficult to reach out when the mind is saying that there is no hope or chance for the future. So why make such a controversial topic the main focus of my essay? If I look at the story of my life, it does more harm than good to ignore the bad things that have happened to me. My life is my set of experiences-some of them were great, and some of them landed me in the hospital on April 30th.
More importantly, having to have dealt with mental illness has made me both stronger and more determined. Many people say that they are tough or hardworking, but I can honestly say I was given the chance to give up, and in the end I chose to keep going. I chose to live. I have been at the lowest point in my life, and there is no where else I can go but up. Through a suicide attempt I have a different outlook on life. I cannot say that I automatically felt better. It simply does not work like that. But I can say that I realize that life is something I do not want to miss out on. I want to learn, I want to travel, I want to go on adventures. I risked losing the most precious thing, my existence, and because of that I am able to fully value what I have been given.