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I adore white marble, Love frescoes and moss on trees, Go wild for avant-garde. Cherish seaside moments, Towers and tombs, Ladybugs. Compact cities, bus rides, Watching people, Red headphones. Filming videos, moon, stars, Waves, mountain wind, Serene tea evenings. Hugging mom, Loving my body, Blinking lashes. Freedom to eat, Grateful for my parents, Happy to write these words. I am 21 years old. My story is both interesting and mundane. It flows calmly, like a peaceful river, morphing and bending under natural circumstances. I divide my life into three parts. Part One: Beginnings The start is quite dramatic and sad, but don't worry; it was quite a while ago. My biological mom died soon after I was born. My dad, already with my 11-year-old sister, couldn't nurture us both. Thankfully, he had two brothers and two sisters. My aunts and uncles took proper care of me. I was always between the village and the city, traveling regularly. But I especially loved the village: the chirping of birds, insects, the variety of animals, rainy days, and small children like me running outside, stargazing, and looking at the clouds without a care in the world. I loved creating DIY things and gifting them to my relatives. I strived to be as creative and fair as possible. If someone got a knitted scarf, another would get something of equal value—a super cute and detailed drawing, a notepad, and a scrunchie. I remember walking around with only one earring for a while, afraid of piercing my ears. Now, I have eight piercings: two on my helix, four on my ears, one septum, and one lip piercing. It's funny how life can turn around. I was exceptional in my village class and agreed with my mom's (aunt's) opinion (my Russian language, literature, and homeroom teacher) about applying to prestigious schools in the city. There was one particular school I dreamed of attending. It required extensive knowledge. After thorough preparation, I finally entered the examination room. But my heart sank after the first math test; I wasn't keeping up and solved only half the problems. Disappointed, I burst into tears when I saw my mom waiting outside. We almost returned to the village without trying the second round, but something told me to try anyway. While studying biology, my mom received a phone call. After the call, she came to me with a happy smile and said, "YOU GOT IN!" I knew what she meant immediately, and a waterfall of kisses followed. She always seems more anxious, happy, or nervous for me than I am myself. That's what it's like when you're a Capricorn and your mom is a Virgo. This is how the first part of my life ended—characterized by peacefulness, total protection, and love, despite some hurdles and struggles. Part Two: Teenage Years The teenage years are my second life stage. Studying from 6 am until 1 am, striving to perfect my grades, participating in olympiads, projects, competitions, and extracurriculars like dance club, volunteering, and Chinese, was an inseparable part of my life. I saw the highest number of clever and intellectual people and wanted to be just like them. This was the hardest and most curious part of my life, where I formed my worldview. I fell in love with a girl for the first time and dated a boy. I was deeply into science. I achieved great victories, won honorable places and mentions, expanded my worldview, and learned to be productive and disciplined. I don't like talking about this part of my life much since it was quite boring, filled with endless studying. Part Three: Introduction to Real-Life The next part of my life began when I moved to Hungary to study Business Management and Administration at Debrecen University. Initially, I imagined participating in tons of extracurriculars, opening my own business, and just chilling. The reality turned out differently. I started tutoring in the first semester, earning my own money without asking my parents for anything. I have already visited 11 countries, although I never prioritized travel before. I went to concerts, volunteered at an Ed Sheeran concert and several festivals, showed Turkey to my mom, found my place in Berlin, and, most importantly, got an opportunity to escape the rat race. I am still learning about new opportunities and seem to understand what I am supposed to do. I am incredibly grateful for the life given to me, and this is far from the last part of my journey!

The sun was high up in the sky, shining with all its warm glory. I was sitting with my legs crossed on the floor of my room right under the air conditioner, reading. This amount of heat was not a unique sight during the month of June in Delhi. An ideal summer. What else would a just-turned teenager be doing in her summer break? Here I was, enjoying the last of my summer vacation, unaware that my life was about to be changed, entirely. Before long, the sun had started moving to the west and I decided that this was a good time to go cycling with my sister. My sister is younger than me by four years but we are each other's best friends. While I do have some really close friends from school, none have been with me as long as her. After about three quarters of an hour cycling around the neighborhood, I tediously dragged her back to the house. Usually we would have stayed out longer, but not today. Today papa would be returning early and I had to make some serious plans with him. Of course, I couldn't tell this to my sister because then it wouldn't remain a surprise when it was actually her birthday. As anticipated, our dad came back early. It seemed that he was just as excited as me which was a little rude since it showed that he liked my younger sister better. But I let it slide this time. He took off his shoes and was getting freshened up; with me waiting outside his door as a person who really wanted to use the washroom would. As soon as he was done changing, I took him to his room and began flooding him with ideas for what we could do on my sister's birthday. Only he (politely) shut me down immediately. Huh! Had he already made the plans without even including me? I thought. In a still excited tone he said “Calm down, we'll talk about this later. I need to tell you guys something. Let's go out in the living room.” He had to tell us something? But what? Curiously, I followed him. My mom was busy preparing the dinner and my sister staring at the television. My dad went ahead and retrieved some papers from his office bag. He went into the kitchen with me still following him at his tail. He asked my mom to join us outside to which she replied “I am not done with the dinner yet. Can this wait?” Apparently, it couldn't. So, there we were, the entire family sitting in the living room. My dad handed over the papers to my mom and she read. Now me and my sister were both baffled. We tried peeking over our mother's shoulder but before we could get a good look, my mom let out a loud gasp. What was happening? Our parents rejoiced while we just stared at them. After about a minute of this, our dad told us. “I have an interview at our bank's headquarters in Kolkata. They believe that I have been performing really well and now that I have cleared promotional exams, they really suggest I should give the interview.” Okay, so they were just excited about his promotion. I was expecting something more eventful but this could work too. My dad continued “and if I get selected after the interview phase, we could potentially be transferred to Hong Kong.” Okay, what!? Now it was me and my sister's turn to freak out. We could live in Hong Kong? We who had never even set foot outside of our country? This was surreal. I didn't even know that papa's bank had branches in places besides India. My sister and I hugged our dad so hard that we almost knocked him over. The rest of the day (which was only a couple of hours) was spent as we would on a festival. Soon enough, it was time for our dad's interview. We think he had prepared really well for it but wished him lots of luck nevertheless. He returned after two days and informed us that he thought he did well too. We had gotten our hopes up really high and it was not futile. He received the letter days later informing him that he had been selected to work at the Hong Kong branch for his bank and that we had to leave in a month. I don't think I had ever been so sad and excited all at the same time. On one hand, I was getting the opportunity of living outside of India and gaining so many new experiences. On the other hand, however, I had to leave behind so much and so quickly that it made my heart ache. Although I would have my family when moving to a completely new place, I would be leaving behind my two best friends from school (quite possibly the best people I have ever met so far). Throughout my childhood, I had moved from city to city and had to build my whole social life from scratch every time that happened. The thought of going through that one more time overpowered the dopamine rush from hearing such good news. I went through some serious brooding and heartfelt goodbyes after a crazy last month but it wasn't all bad. I constantly reminded myself that I could keep in touch with friends here and make new friends in Hong Kong and that everything will be fine. Turns it out, it was true. To gain something means to lose something else. It just depends on how you look at it.

I am here today for one reason: someone stopped me. The house was vacant, abandoned, and in a neighborhood a few miles from my house. I'd been there three days, hiding from my life. I found a discarded razor blade in the bathroom. I shaved all the hair from my forearms, testing the sharpness. My image in the mirror disgusted me. I held clumps of my shoulder-length hair and cut it all off. I cut my bangs off to my scalp. I screamed myself hoarse. Crying, shaking so much I couldn't stand, I went into another room and sat in the closet. I didn't deserve sunlight. I was dirty, a bad girl. I should kill myself. Then it wouldn't hurt anymore. No one wanted me. I held the razor against my wrist, ready to cut. But how? I didn't know. Then I heard a sound. I froze. A window opened, metal screeching. Was it going to happen again? I scooched into the corner and hid. A walkie-talkie squawked gibberish. Keys jangled. "I know you're here. Someone heard you screaming. Come on out now." His voice sounded warm and calm, not angry. "I'm a police officer. You're not in trouble. I promise." I bit my lip and closed my hand around the razor. I would use it if he was lying. But he sounded nice. I peeked out. He stood in the center of the room, arms at his sides. He had blue eyes and smiled at me. I smiled back. “Come on out. Let's talk for a minute.” He sat and crossed his legs. He said something I didn't understand into the radio on his shoulder. I crawled forward to sit next to him. I crossed my legs and put my hands in my lap, razor still hidden in my right hand. “What's your name?' he asked. “Charity,” I said. “Do you have a last name?” I gave it to him. “I'm Officer Spalding. Wanna tell me why're you here all alone?” I shrugged. “You look like you might be sad.” I nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” I looked at him. To this day, I don't know why, but I trusted him. His eyes were clear and kind. His voice soothed me. The last few days tumbled out, words tripping over each other. I told him about the older neighborhood boy I thought was my friend. How he wanted me to meet his mom and brought me in his house, where it was pitch black. How he pushed me to the floor, took off my clothes, and forced his penis inside me. I wept, reliving the pain, the fear, the smell of his sweat, the sound of him above me. How I screamed, kicked, begged, then just fell silent as he finished. I told him about wanting to die. Office Spalding did the most amazing thing. Slowly, he put his arms around me and held me as I sobbed. He waited while I caught my breath. “What happened to your hair?” “I cut it.” “Oh. With scissors?” I shook my head, held out my hand, and opened it. “With this.” “I see. Can I have that?” I nodded. He plucked it from my hand, tucking it in one of his many pockets. “You are one brave, beautiful young lady. What happened to you isn't your fault. Bad things happen, and we must find a way to work through them. Killing yourself isn't the answer. You are precious. You are so important.” “You think so?” “I know so. Now, I'd like you to make me a promise, one you can never break. Can you do that?” I nodded. “You're going to go through tough times. You'll think you don't want to live anymore. But I want you to promise me you will never, ever, take your own life. I want your word, you won't ever kill yourself.” I thought for a moment and looked at him. Something within me spoke. “I promise.” “Good. Now, how about we get you back home? I'm sure your mom is really worried about you.” “No, she's not. She's going to be really mad.” “She might be. Don't worry, I'll talk to your mom, okay?” I nodded. He helped me to my feet. We climbed out the window and walked to his car. A crowd had gathered, strange faces I didn't recognize. Three police cars formed a semi-circle around the driveway, lights flashing. I don't remember much of the ride home. I was tired. Hungry. Scared. My mom was livid, but only because I'd been brought home by a cop. She never even reported me missing. A few weeks later she sent me back to live with my dad. I've never forgotten Officer Spalding's words. They're sealed within my soul in a special place. He was right. There have been many hard times since. There have been times I thought I would break my promise. Something just won't let me give up now, no matter how much it hurts. His words ignite the part of me that refuses to quit. He was my guardian angel. He saved my life. I have used the same exact strategy with my own family – my daughter, who struggles with mental illness daily, my son, my husband, and friends. I honor my promise every day. I have saved four people so far. I hope to keep saving more. He was right, as it turns out, I am important. I didn't know how much until many years later. Now I am important to countless people, but mostly to three special, wonderful people I love beyond words. I carry his message with me and share it with all who need to hear it.

What sport can someone do when they can't kick a ball, run, or even properly wheel a wheelchair? You would think that my perpetual ability to fall over while standing still would discourage me from playing any kind of sport, but that would make too much logical sense for my tastes. My whole family is very athletic; my Mom gloats about beating the boys' long jump team in high school, my brother has played soccer since three and my sister plays anything that catches her attention. But what to do with me? Apparently the answer was quite simple for my Mother: horseback riding. Horseback riding is one of the best things that has happened to me. During eleven years of riding, I have had ups and downs, had plenty of things to be proud of, improved my self-confidence and gained new skills. The program was called Pegasus, it is a physical therapy program for disabled riders. It entails riding for an hour and you gain basic knowledge of horses. I fell in love with it right away. For once I had the ability to move fast. Really fast. That alone gave me a whole new sense of freedom. Where I could barely walk at an average pace let alone run, the sudden ability to move at any speed while on the horse was exhilarating. Also, I was finally able to look people in the eye. From the wheelchair I was always shorter than everybody, and always looking up. Now from the horse, I was the one looking down on them. Five years in, I hurt my ankle. Since the stirrups irritated it I had to ride without them. Riding this way involves a lot of balance and skill. I was set back a few years because of the increased limitations. For a little while I felt like giving up. When one day someone pointed out something: I was the only one in my class without stirrups who didn't fall off. I realized they were right. With this new insight, I continued. It was in my 7th year in horseback riding when someone wanted to do an interview piece on Pegasus. It was summer break; I was vacationing in Nova Scotia; when my Mom asked a question out of the blue: “would I like to go on T.V. to represent the whole Pegasus program?”. Apparently she had gotten an email. About three weeks later and a whole lot of running around, I was in front of the camera, again I was being asked a question: Why do you like horseback riding? My answer was simple: the freedom of movement. But my success did not stop there. With my ankle healed up and a new horse named Soleil, my coach put me in a show. However, I wouldn't be riding against my other class mates. This time I'll be against able-bodied riders. Since it was my first large show, I didn't get my hopes up of bringing any ribbons home. I was just excited to be in the show. After the hour long show consisting of equitation which is a test of the amount of time it takes you to get your horse to respond to you. All the riders go into the ring at once and someone calls out instructions and you do it at a seconds notice. The second show was Dressage which is a pre-practiced pattern done by all riders. After both shows I was exhausted and still wasn't expecting much. Much to everyone's surprise that day I came in first, beating out the people had less physical limitations than me. I looked back at my parents, realizing the whole ring was applauding me. I sure did a lot of gloating when I got home. Flash forward a few years, I was faced with the biggest challenge of my life. At the young age of 18, I underwent a double hip reconstruction surgery which included work on my knee. The surgery itself lasted 6 hours and I was a Holland Bloorveiw Children's Rehabilitation Hospital for 5 months. The stay itself was isolating away from friends who were moving on, moving out and going to University. Worst of all, I was unable to horseback ride as horseback riding comes from the hips. Most people think you control your horse using your reins, but the horse listens to the riders' change of positioning and shifting of your weight around. It took me a full year later to literally get back on the horse. It was one of the happiest moment of my life. By that point, I was still having problems with my hips and not recovering well and I was beginning to give up hope on riding again. Getting back on diminished the fears and although I was unable to stay on for long, I did it. It took another full year to be able to stay on for the full lesson and I still have bad days. But riding overall greatly improved the speed of my healing process both on a physical and emotional level, as it gave me an intense workout and gave me new hope not to mention the emotional bond I have with my horse. Over the 10 years I have been riding I have learned many lessons, and gained confidence and pride. Before I started horseback riding I thought of myself as the girl that was in a wheelchair but could not wheel it, and the girl that loved to run but could barely stand. Now I am the woman that stands tall just on someone else's feet.