I’ve always heard people say that you should know your own value, because if you let others decide how much you’re worth, they’ll tell you you’re worth a lot less, but I never anticipated how hard it would be to find my worth.

At the beginning of September, I met a “friend” who would say the most hurtful things as a joke, criticizing my body, and never respecting my personal space or taking anything seriously. I thought that she would be different, but she wasn’t. She was treating me like an object, like nearly everyone else before her. She wouldn’t even offer a simple greeting or ask how I was; all she wanted were yesterday’s homework answers, or the notes from class, and never had time for pleasantries. Yet I stayed in that friendship for two entire months because I was afraid of losing another friend. She was all I had in this new environment.

And what about my feelings? They shouldn’t exist. I have been telling myself that for my entire life. My feelings are there, of course, but I should be putting my time and energy into serving others, not myself. I didn’t matter.

I never felt sad about that. I just accepted it as a truth of life–my emotions don’t matter. But then I met my best friend, and that was the best day of my entire life. She knew I was academically talented, but she saw past that. She understood my goals, my feelings, and we had so much in common that it made us inseparable. She was the first person ever that I could openly talk about my emotions to without feeling guilty or ashamed, because she always made me feel validated.

For the first time in two years, I actually felt wanted. I could talk to her about anything and she wouldn’t judge me at all. We could have a long, deep conversation that would go on for so long that we would lose track of time. From then on, I met more friends, and we were a wonderful group that supported each other no matter what.

At some point, I was overwhelmed with anxiety, with about twenty different things to do at once. My parents, not being the sympathetic type, were constantly pushing me to do more. Nothing was ever good enough for them. To the world they seemed bright and sunny, but to me, they were never forgiving. They pushed me to my limits until one day, I decided that I didn’t want to live anymore. I wondered what the most effective road to death would be. And then my mother said, “You should just kill yourself. We won’t care.” Clearly, that didn’t help my suicidal thoughts.

I cried so hard after they left me alone in that room. It felt like permanent abandonment. My own parents wanted me to kill myself. If I didn’t do it, they wouldn’t take my mental health seriously. They had been oblivious to my emotional struggles since the day I was born. But if I did do it, what would I be missing out on?

I had dreams for the future. I had hopes, and aspirations, and interests, and I had social connections. I was at a time in my life where I was doing very well for myself, if you don’t count emotions. And to give that all up because of something my parents said in the middle of a heated argument? That seemed like a waste. At that moment, I told myself that I wasn’t going to listen to what they said anymore. They could say whatever they wanted. I was going to succeed, no matter what. I was going to get what I wanted and want what I got. I was going to treasure life, because if I hadn’t had a sudden change of mind, my life would have been gone immediately.

I know she didn’t mean it, that she was just mad, but something in me shattered–and something else in me healed. Looking back, I allow myself to feel sad over that small detail. To my mother, it was nothing but an angry outburst, a comment made in a moment of fury, that didn’t mean much. To this day, she has no idea how her detrimental remarks have changed me over the years. Gone was the constant feeling that I had to make everyone happy–I would never achieve that, not in a society where everyone feels, thinks, and acts differently. I needed time to focus on myself.

A few days later, I went on a walk with a friend, a little older than me. It was a nice day, but it felt eerie, because it so closely resembled the day I lost everything. When I lightly brought up about being overwhelmed but that being okay, she looked at me and said that she had been just like me. However, she learned to accept that she wasn’t perfect, that she had flaws and to forgive herself for that.

Being a perfectionist, that completely changed me. I didn’t go from being a perfectionist to not caring at all, but I felt a tiny piece of that perfectionism leave me, and knew I was accepted. Lots of my friends were open about their mental health. She helped me understand that it’s okay to feel that way.

It’s okay to have feelings. Whoever is reading this, I hope you know that too.

I have changed so much this year that I honestly can’t even believe it. Of course, I still wish I had the courage to talk about my emotions openly, but I’ve done it. I wrote all of this, and I’m proud of myself for that. This year, I am focusing on my mental health, on healing my relationship with myself, and celebrating my worth.

That, I believe, is the true meaning of self-love. Not putting yourself above others, but making your health and your well-being a priority. Taking care of yourself and knowing your needs before trying to please others. People may tell you to put others before yourself, but if you aren’t well, you will be of help to no one.

So put yourself first, always. Don’t be narcissistic or act better than everyone, but acknowledge that you matter. You don’t need to earn your place in the world. You have the right to be here just as much as everyone else does.

Sometimes, I still look back and feel ashamed or guilty. I feel bad that I hated my parents, even though they said things that were unforgivable. But there is no such thing as a perfect parent, and I will keep in mind that when I become a mother, I will be tactful when interacting with my children and never invalidate their mental health problems. We improve as parents, generation after generation. We build upon the mistakes of our own parents and hope that we can become better parents in the future.

I am doing the bravest thing of all I’ve done this year, writing this and sharing my story with the world. I wish you a 2024 full of happiness, surprises, and those lovely, small moments in your day that make you feel like the happiest person on earth. Treasure them all through your lifetime.

As many people have said, it’s okay not to be okay.