Skywalker

Imagine driving home on a rainy day and spotting a frightened animal huddled beneath a tree, trying to escape the downpour. Now picture a Monday morning commute, passing a homeless man curled under a cardboard box on a street corner. These small glimpses are reminders of life’s harsh realities. As human beings, we are prisoners of our own minds—shaped by the privileges we inherit or the struggles we are born into. Some of us fight daily battles for survival, while others live shielded from such burdens, free to plan tomorrow around brunch or shopping instead of childcare or early shifts.

I live in the United States, one of the most expensive countries in the world. Despite growing up poor, I feel blessed. I had freedom of expression, a proper education, and the chance to work hard to change my future. As an immigrant, I see the stark differences between life here and the life I left behind, and I understand how fortunate I am.

Even living with schizophrenia, I have privileges: access to mental health care, affordable medications, and the English language—allowing me to search, learn, and grow beyond the confines of my illness. I am grateful for a roof over my head, steady work, and the peace of not struggling for basic necessities. Perhaps because of my illness, I appreciate the ordinary—yesterday, today, and tomorrow—with a depth that feels like survival in itself.

When Princess Leia pleaded, “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” she captured a truth I’ve lived: in moments of despair, I, too, have relied on the help life has sent me. Yet through experience, I’ve learned the most reliable person I can turn to is myself. I remember lying facedown in a hospital ward, hollowed by loneliness. I am still the same person—hungry, eager—but now stronger. The ache of helplessness lingers, but I know I have the power to seek connection, to be kinder to myself, and to love myself—because who else could do it better?

Survival means different things to different people. For me, it means protecting my energy, my mental health, and my spirit from being consumed by others’ greed. Smiling through struggles can draw envy or cruelty, but I’ve learned that positivity nourishes the soul, while negativity feeds the soulless. 

My biggest challenge is my financial health. Research shows that poverty directly impacts well-being: lack of money often means less sleep, limited access to nutritious food, and little time for rest or self-care, since every hour is traded for survival. What I’ve learned is to focus on solving immediate problems, to learn quickly from mistakes—because second chances are rare—and to live below my means so I can save for what truly matters. 

As I look back, I realize that one of the greatest lessons life has taught me is this: no one else can live my life for me. For a long time, I carried the weight of waiting for others to rescue me, to guide me, or to simply make the world more bearable. But I am no longer young, and I can no longer afford the luxury of depending on others to carry me through the storms. If I am to build a meaningful, stable life, I must rise up on my own. The truth is, every person will face pain, grief, and struggle at some point. Some people endure unimaginable suffering in silence, with no support and no safety net. My struggles are my own, but they are not the only struggles in the world. Recognizing this fact humbles me and also motivates me to stop retelling the sob story of my past and start writing the story of my present and future.

For those of us living with schizophrenia, the battles are not just external but deeply internal. The mind can feel like a prison at times, with thoughts looping endlessly, delusions intruding, or motivation slipping away. It can be exhausting to fight yourself while also fighting to survive in the real world. And yet, this is precisely why forming a healthy relationship with ourselves is not optional—it is necessary. Healing does not always mean “cured.” Healing means learning how to live with what you have been given, how to grow stronger even while carrying something heavy, how to find compassion for yourself when the world is not always compassionate toward you.

Part of that healing comes from knowledge. We live in a time when information is at our fingertips, and it would be foolish not to use it. Being smart means using every resource available—Googling symptoms, learning about treatment options, and combining scientific approaches with holistic practices. Medication can bring stability, therapy can offer tools, and mindfulness or healthy routines can nurture balance. None of these things is magic, but together they give us a framework to take back power over our lives.

Now is the time to stop dwelling on what I did not have and to focus on what I can build. I cannot undo the past, but I can choose what comes next. Self-pity only anchors me to the ground, while self-reliance sets me free. Every day I wake up with the choice to either let my challenges control me or to rise above them. I choose to rise. I choose to work hard, to save wisely, to protect my mental health, and to love myself fiercely. Life does not owe me anything, and no one else will fight my battles for me. But I am strong, capable, and ready. Perhaps reading this will give you some fighting spirit to rise, too. People are stronger together, and I truly hope the best for the loneliest of us. I, too, am lonely, but that doesn’t define me because I know in the future, I might just meet some true friends who wish well for me just the same.