I had my very first sexual experience at 6 years old, this was not by choice, but because of the actions of a family member. I was raised in a low income, drug infested household filled with domestic abuse. I recall the first time I ever had thoughts of “not wanting to continue living”; I was in the 6th grade. I was forced to talk to a specialist, but I lied to that individual about home life and how I truly felt in order to avoid getting in any more trouble. At 20 years old I contemplated suicide; walked myself through the entire process, even tied a belt around my neck and checked my closet for something that would support my weight while I kicked the chair out from beneath my feet. I couldn’t go through with it. I am now 30 years old and struggle with severe depression often. Everyday I wake up and put a mask on. My family can’t tell, the few friends I have don’t know, and I dare even say the community I serve labels me a hero. Sincerely, someone who is tired of being strong.