I have been struggling with my mental health for years, and unfortunately, it came to the point that I attempted to take my own life.  I had just transferred to a longer-term treatment facility after 37 days of being in Bellevue Hospital’s adolescent psychiatric ward. During my time at Bellevue, my mental state had worsened further than it had been when I was admitted, which was saying a lot. I could tell that all the staff there cared about was when they were going home and when they were getting paid. Most of them did not even understand how to deal with mental illness - despite working in a psychiatric ward - and it was common practice to restrain and sedate patients instead of work with them to calm down. I received nothing but disrespect from the staff and was told multiple times that I was “doing it for attention.”  I wasn’t. After leaving Bellevue, I arrived to the new facility thinking that there was no way that I would ever be able to even IMAGINE a future again. Bellevue showed me that I wasn’t worth it. How would this be any different? I was first introduced to the facility’s motto, "We will care about you until you can care about yourself” a week into my stay. It proved to be accurate. Although there were definitely ups and downs in my treatment, I finally was able to commit to "doing the work." The amount of love and care I felt from the staff truly changed my whole perspective on recovery. Their support during my lowest times is the reason that I can now say that I am happy to wake up each day.  Today, I am almost a year and a half in recovery and have now found my purpose. While I was at the facility, I realized that THIS is what I want to do: I want to help others who are struggling, just like the staff at the treatment center helped me. The mental healthcare system has failed too many people, and I would like to end that. I will be getting my Bachelor’s in Psychology at Hampshire College, and will likely be pursuing a Master’s later on in either Social Work or Mental Health and Addiction Counseling.  The positive shift I saw from the treatment center’s caring approach - not only in me but in other patients as well - inspires me to give back. I would like to work at an adolescent residential facility as a Mental Health Technician, and then later as a therapist. My biggest goal for my career is to help people find the way back to their strength again. It is my responsibility to pass the love on.

I have been struggling with my mental health for years, and unfortunately, it came to the point that I attempted to take my own life.  I had just transferred to a longer-term treatment facility after 37 days of being in Bellevue Hospital’s adolescent psychiatric ward. During my time at Bellevue, my mental state had worsened further than it had been when I was admitted, which was saying quite a bit. I could tell that all the staff there cared about was when they were going home and when they were getting paid. Most of them did not even understand how to deal with mental illness - despite working in a psychiatric ward - and it was common practice to restrain and sedate patients instead of work with them to calm down. I received nothing but disrespect from the staff and was told multiple times that I was “doing it for attention.”  I wasn’t. After leaving Bellevue, I arrived to the new facility thinking that there was no way that I would ever be able to even IMAGINE a future again. Bellevue showed me that I wasn’t worth it. How would this be any different? I was first introduced to the facility’s motto, "We will care about you until you can care about yourself” a week into my stay. It proved to be accurate. Although there were definitely ups and downs in my treatment, I finally was able to commit to "doing the work." The amount of love and care I felt from the staff truly changed my whole perspective on recovery. Their support during my lowest times is the reason that I can now say that I am happy to wake up each day.  Today, I am almost a year and a half in recovery and have now found my purpose. While I was at the facility, I realized that THIS is what I want to do: I want to help others who are struggling, just like the staff at the treatment center helped me. The mental healthcare system has failed too many people, and I would like to end that. I will be getting my Bachelor’s in Psychology at Hampshire College, and will likely be pursuing a Master’s later on in either Social Work or Mental Health and Addiction Counseling.  The positive shift I saw from the treatment center’s caring approach - not only in me but in other patients as well - inspires me to give back. I would like to work at an adolescent residential facility as a Mental Health Technician, and then later as a therapist. My biggest goal for my career is to help people find the way back to their strength again. It is my responsibility to pass the love on.

My instagram account is @DearAlexRobinson. I am proud because I have overcome numerous struggles to be able to be me. That is something special.

My name is Alex. I am a student, artist, listener, and friend. I am also transgender and in recovery. My “everything” is rooted in darker times. I came out when I was 13. I felt so much pain. The disparity between my identity and my body made me feel trapped - the only way out was medically transitioning. I was terrified. The year before I came out, I had surgery that ended up traumatizing me. Because of this, I developed anxiety, depression, and medical PTSD. I started thinking of myself as “sick.” Good things were happening in my life, but I couldn’t shake my suicidal ideation. I was still being called the wrong pronouns; my voice and figure did not match who I was. Each time I was referred to as “she” or "her" felt like an assault. I desperately wanted to start hormones, but was terrified of anything medical. I was admitted to Bellevue Hospital's psychiatric ward in March 2019 because I could not stop thinking about suicide. I was ejected back into the real world in just 18 days. Not long afterward, I started needle phobia exposure therapy. Finally, in November 2019, I did my first testosterone shot. I developed a shot routine to ease my anxiety. After setting up the syringe, I would play the song “Older” by Ben Platt. There is a beat drop about forty seconds into the song. Once the beat drop arrived, I would squeeze my belly fat, poke the syringe in, and push the testosterone out. It was amazing to finally be able to take the steps forward…but it wasn’t enough to "cure" me. My suicidality had increased in the nine months since my hospital stay, and I had inched back into that dark place. In January 2020, I was readmitted to Bellevue. Being there pushed my mental health to a crisis point. The staff was callous, apathetic, and transphobic. Patients were treated like nuisances or targets, not humans in need of compassion. It was clear I needed better, longer-term care. After a month, I transferred to a residential treatment facility. I arrived hopeless, convinced I was unfixable and sick. But the care I felt from the staff was what helped me find the strength I hadn’t known I had. Gradually, I was able to let go of that “sick” identity. After three months there, I left with hope, as well as the want to help others who are in the same dark place I once was. In college, I will be pursuing a degree in psychology, and later on, am hoping to work at an inpatient treatment facility. I also am planning to finish my transition and have top surgery. These two things are my most important motivators. Being my authentic self and helping others who felt the same way I did are the goals that I am excited to achieve. I want to be the person who changes lives, especially when they think they are unchangeable. This is my “everything”.

Don't let that face fool you, Jagger enjoyed EVERY BIT of it. - @dearalexrobinson

When I am told to think about my biggest role model, it would have to be my Mom. I have two moms, and they divorced when I was four. For the sake of this essay, I will refer to them as my Mom and Mother. My parents met in 1999 at CBS radio, the company that they both worked for, and began to date. In 2001, they moved into an apartment together, and in 2002, they went to Canada to get married (same-sex marriage was not legal in America yet). In 2003, my moms went to a sperm bank to try for a child. Sure enough, eight and a half months later, I was born. Both of my moms loved me unconditionally. They were my parents and I was their son. It was as simple as that. A couple of years later, my sister was born, but unfortunately, things started to change in my moms’ relationship. My Mother told my Mom that she wanted a divorce, and shortly after, my Mom was forced out of the house and was not allowed to see us anymore. Because it was 2007, non-biological parents were not allowed to gain custody of children, so my Mom fought as hard as she could to even have the right to see us. It was the obvious choice: We were her kids and she was our Mom. After three years of trials, lawyers, and appointments, her bank account - including retirement funds and savings - was gone. Whenever she talks about the divorce with me, she always tells me how hard it was on her. This type of case was the first of its kind, and she didn’t know how it would play out. But she fought anyway for the right to see her children. In the end, my Mom's case became a legal precedent as she gained joint custody of us. The decision allowed other non-biological parents legal rights and access to their children-one that most couples took for granted. My Mom gave everything to have what was the most important to her, and that is what I admire the most. She taught me to take hold of the things that make you the happiest, and not to be afraid to fight when you need them back. I live life every day knowing that I am valued in the world, and I want to give that to other people as well.

I love to shop on Depop, eBay, and Etsy. With Depop, one can purchase vintage and used clothing, instead of supporting fast fashion. With eBay, one can find a whole bunch of items that they normally wouldn't - I search for my favorite Broadway productions' memorabilia. And finally, with Etsy, one can find custom-made and unique products, all while supporting a small shop or individual!

My name is Alex. In the photo I submitted, the taller, blonde-haired girl on the left is my friend Grace. We have been friends for almost two and a half years now, ever since I sat outside her teacher's door with her class waiting for the bell every morning. My mental health has been deteriorating since eighth grade, and unfortunately, it came to the point this year where I entered a longer-term treatment program. I was there for 128 days. I couldn't talk to anyone unless it was through mail or my ten-minute phone call a day. When I came home, I slowly became more conscious of how many people were not talking to me. I will admit that I was a bit codependent at my lowest, which I guess would make people think that I was still codependent after I came home. My best friend, who was in countless photos on my wall, stopped speaking to me, along with many of my other friends. I was devastated. After being in a place where I was supported 24/7, I needed at least SOME communication with my peers. Grace, however, did not stop speaking to me. I had changed as a person during my time in treatment, and she recognized that. She continues to support me when I need it to this day, and I could not be more grateful.

First, I've been using the Honey extension for about two years now. Its ability to find coupon codes in the blink of an eye is super helpful for getting a good deal. Next, I use my family's Amazon Prime. Not only does it provide free shipping on a multitude of items, but it also provides us with Prime Video, where I can stream my favorite movies instead of paying for a separate subscription for something like Netflix. Finally, the last tool I use is TikTok. It may not seem like it, but one can learn a lot about how to save from one-minute videos on an entertainment app.

The best horrible-behaving dog in the world. (His name is Jagger, and my instagram handle is @dearalexrobinson)

I fought my flashbacks for three years during my daily exposures. Even seeing a picture of a needle made me cry, but I knew I had to get on hormones. With an incredible amount of determination and "post-exposure" sheets, I took the syringe of testosterone, and with shaky hands, poked it into my belly and pushed.