Known world and call to adventure:
That morning in October or November, the soles of my shoes delicately collided against the floor of the counseling office, producing a very slight but perceptible sound. My mouth trembled, barely able to produce a few sounds. The fear had me absolutely speechless. The counselor saw me, saw my expression, and knew immediately that something was not right. I took all the strength and all the will that my body had to pronounce those words that would change my world: “I come here because I had a suicide attempt.” My life before that visit was not going well; I had a very turbulent few months. Days before, I had had a very bad fight with some of my friends, to the point where we stopped talking to each other for a long time. It should be noted that I have never been a very social person. Many times, I did not know what to say in social situations, so I chose to remain silent. I never had many friends, but they were people I really loved and appreciated.
Supernatural help:
The counselor made me come in and take a seat. With a certain degree of fear, I slowly approached the small green chair. As my body rested, my eyes could not help but shed rivers and rivers of tears, as if it were a pressure cooker that had been left on the stove for too long without uncovering. Along with the tears, a flood of thoughts suddenly came into my head. While I was disconsolately babbling a series of incoherent things, the counselor was kind enough to calm me down, offer me a couple of sweets from her desk, and continue the conversation. Event after event, the counselor helped me unravel the chaos in my mind. He stopped for a moment to ask me if I wanted to drink water, if I wanted to talk to a friend, if I wanted to do anything in particular to calm me down. I responded that I wanted to go for a walk. We walked for about twenty minutes along the campus, picking up little bits of casual conversation, but nothing out of this world.
First Threshold:
Upon returning from the short walk, one of my biggest fears had come true. The counselor told me that I had to tell my parents what had happened. Upon hearing those words, all my peace and calm completely left my body. I begged the counselor not to tell them anything; it wasn't necessary. However, she insisted, saying that by protocol it was what had to be done. All my previous worries came back suddenly, images circulated in my head about the repercussions that this event would have on the relationship I have with my parents. My relationship with them has never been the best; I have had conflicts with both my mother and my father. And although I can admit that many of those conflicts had been my fault, I didn't want to go through that again. It's a horrible feeling. At that moment, when I was completely cornered and with nowhere to go, my mind simply accepted its destiny and everything that it entails.
Challenge 1 - Self-discovery:
The conversation with my parents was definitely very hard, especially my mother's constant inquisition. With her words stinging like stabs, I blamed myself for doing this to punish her in some way. She also blamed me for making her look bad and for doing all this just to stop going to school. But one of the biggest unknowns to which I was subjected was the constant “Why did you do it?” A question that even I didn't know how to answer myself for sure. I had a vague idea why I felt the way I did. I had briefly talked with my previous psychologist about my gender non-conformity. Since I was in high school, I knew that I liked men, and I really haven't had a conflict with that for quite some time. But, at the same time that I looked back on how I came out of the closet at that time, a certain something came to light.
Challenge 2 - Self-acceptance:
After several therapy sessions, I began to understand myself more and my place in the world. It was difficult to accept things. I remember one specific session in which I didn't really want to talk. My psychologist, instead of pressuring me to talk, gave me a stuffed animal, turned off the lights, and made me hug it for a few minutes. That was enough to make me cry for several minutes. I squeezed, squeezed, and squeezed, and the more I squeezed the doll's soft skin, the more I let my thoughts go. It was almost as if they had been transferred to that little animal. When I left that session, I spent several minutes looking at the ceiling while lying on my bed. I couldn't sleep; a torrent of thoughts invaded me. After much thinking and letting go, I finally accepted my identity. It was a beautiful moment, but full of uncertainties.
Challenge 3 - Searching for acceptance in other people:
My biggest uncertainty has always been other people's reactions. No one knew what was in my mind; they only knew what I had done. Reliving those moments when I came out is still painful; I would prefer to skip what happened. However, what became very clear to me after all those difficulties is that people are cursed. The judgment of those I cared about was a silent killer to me. I had no power over how they reacted to my confession, and that scared me to death. Those people who previously had respect for me now saw me differently, almost as a hostile creature. My demons began to take on a witch form—a despicable being in the eyes of the world. A creature that must be exterminated, hanged, burned in water.
That witch that existed in my subconscious began to tempt me more and more. I began to sweeten my ears with ideas of distancing myself from everyone, isolating myself to avoid being hurt. Every day, his spells tied my hands like a puppeteer ties his puppets' hands. Controlling, manipulative and jealous, the witch began to distance me from those I loved most, to seclude me in a small, dark crypt. My symphony was the percussive sound of leaks, my Van Gogh was the hypnotic pattern of that brick wall that rose above me, surrounding me as they surrounded Roger Waters. Cursed be the day I let my soul be imprisoned in a dark hole. Birds exist to be free and to fly over a blue sky, not to see golden bars. My isolation was similar to that which Ethel suffered when she was alone in a room with Jesus, the same that Owen suffered when she turned off the TV, the same that Wendy suffered when she got lost in the forest, the same that Xen suffered when he rapped in Venezuela.
While I was trapped inside that dark place, I managed to see a small light coming from between the bricks. After several days of seeing that small light, I began to hear small vestiges of voices coming from the same direction. Little by little, that voice that at first seemed simply a whisper, intensified until it became completely clear and strong. The voice encouraged me, gave me advice, accompanied me in those dark moments where the only thing that predominated were my thoughts. One day that seemed like so many others, the voice confessed a secret to me: “Walls do not exist,” it said with a mysterious voice.
That revelation left me silent, not knowing how to react. For weeks, I had believed that those walls were real, that their solidity was what kept me trapped. However, those words ignited something inside me, a spark I hadn't felt in a long time. “If the walls don't exist,” I thought, “what's really keeping me here?” The voice continued to speak to me, encouraging me to question what my eyes saw and my mind assumed to be true. I began to approach the bricks, doubting and at the same time full of hope. What if he was right? What if everything he knew was nothing more than an illusion?
As a hero in my own story, my superpower lies in two fundamental virtues: resilience and self-compassion. These are not the kind of powers that manifest suddenly in a burst of energy; rather, they are the slow-burning flame that refuses to be extinguished, even in the darkest moments. Resilience is my sword—a sharp, determined force that cuts through despair and doubt. It is what allows me to stand up again after each fall, to push forward even when the weight of my burdens seems insurmountable. It sharpens with every challenge, every moment I refuse to surrender to the witch's whispers.
Self-compassion, on the other hand, is my shield. It is a soft yet impenetrable barrier against the daggers of self-criticism and external judgment. It reminds me that I am not defined by my mistakes, nor by the harsh opinions of others. This shield is crafted from moments of forgiveness and the acceptance of my imperfect humanity.
Together, these virtues form an unbreakable alliance. The sword drives me to fight the temptations of isolation and despair, while the shield protects me from the internal and external forces that seek to weaken me. Armed with these, I can challenge the witch's spells, dismantling her illusions brick by brick.
Completing the semester successfully, and ultimately my university life, is not about achieving perfection but about embracing growth. Each semester is a cycle of struggle, learning, and transformation. The challenges I face force me to confront not only academic hurdles but also the deep-seated fears and doubts within myself. With each completed semester, I uncover a new version of myself—stronger, wiser, and more resilient.
The atonement comes in realizing that success is not linear. I’ve learned to celebrate the small victories: submitting a project on time, asking for help when needed, or even finding the courage to keep going on the toughest days. These moments accumulate, forming a foundation of confidence that allows me to face the next semester with greater determination.
With every passing term, I’ve become better at balancing my mental health with academic demands. I no longer see asking for help as a weakness but as a necessary tool for growth. My relationships, once strained, have improved as I’ve opened up to others about my struggles and allowed them to support me.
The greatest gift I’ve gained is self-awareness and the knowledge that I can overcome adversity. This understanding will carry me through not only university but life itself.
The journey from high school student to professional is a profound transformation. It requires shedding old habits, assumptions, and insecurities while embracing growth, responsibility, and purpose. I’ve learned that success in this new world is not solely about academic knowledge; it’s about adaptability, resilience, and the ability to connect with others.
As I transition, I’ve worked to change behaviors that no longer serve me. Procrastination, self-doubt, and fear of failure are being replaced with discipline, confidence, and a willingness to take risks. I’ve learned to value time, organize my priorities, and approach challenges with a problem-solving mindset.
More importantly, I’ve discovered the importance of contributing to something larger than myself. To society, I bring my unique perspective, my empathy for others, and a commitment to making a positive impact through my chosen profession. To my family, I offer gratitude and the stability of a future built on perseverance and hard work. To my journey as a heroine, I bring the lessons I’ve learned: the courage to face adversity, the strength to rebuild after setbacks, and the wisdom to inspire others on their paths.
Mastering these two worlds is not about perfection; it’s about becoming a better version of myself every day.