I believe that there is a fighter in everyone. When it surfaces is unpredictable, but it comes out in every lifetime. I am not talking about the go-to-war fighter, but the I’m-not-going-to-let-this-problem-control-my-life fighter. My sister was nine years old when horrible headaches started to occur. My Dad, her, and I went to the hospital to have her examined. My Dad announced to the doctor he thought she had diabetes. The doctor tested my sister and she was diagnosed with diabetes. We went home, fetched her stuff, and headed to the hospital. We arrived to the hospital were my sister was rushed a room. She wasn’t used to the pain. I felt useless; I could do nothing to comfort her. One day I saw a new gleam in my sister’s eye. I knew almost immediately that she had become a fighter. I knew that she wouldn’t have this disease or inconvenience control how she lived her life. I’ve never felt pride for my sister swell in my chest like it did that day.
Her fighter side came out like a baby horse, determined but shy. My fighter didn’t have time to be shy; it came out like a lion. The “lion” had to fight off a fiercer opponent, called depression.
I remember that one day when I was ten. I felt a pang of sadness, it was tiny, but it worried me. It got worse every day. The pediatrician said that I was fine. He was wrong. At first when nothing cared to me, I focused all my efforts into my schoolwork. But after a while even that wasn’t enough to save me from depression’s sickly grasp. I slipped down farther and farther. It was more of a drop. I dropped into a hole that was utterly dark and where no light could shine through. I knew that something was wrong with me, I knew I was depressed, I knew I needed help, and I knew my parents trusted the doctor over me. The pain just got to unbearable to deal with anymore. On September 9, 2007, I attempted suicide. When my parents became aware of what had happened, they hastened me to the hospital. I was diagnosed me with serious depression. The consoling they requested didn’t help. Now my fighter side took over. The lion lunged out of me and roared so loud it rattled my soul. I fought with my everything against my mischievous corrival.
To this day I’m still fighting, I wears me out, but I never give up. I know that my life depends on it. I’ve had drops into darker places but I’m still floating towards the light. I hope that someday people can learn from how I fought. But if there is one thing that I have learned, it is to never stop fighting. I believe to embrace the fighter. And I believe that if I fight with my soul, will, being, and power within me, then I will prevail.
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