Embracing Resilience: My Path to Self-Acceptance
Editor’s Note: The following piece details challenging and difficult moments of abuse, harassment, addiction, and trauma. Because of the seriousness of this piece, the author of this piece has asked that you respect their space. If you have any appreciation or resonance for the author of this piece, I ask that you share it with me directly (devin.kelly@compscihigh.org), so that I can follow up with the author if he so chooses. Lastly, because of the serious nature of this piece, I’d like to provide you with a link to the NYC 988 hotline, which can support you if you are struggling with a similar circumstance: https://nyc988.cityofnewyork.us/en/
“I found my purpose in life: to inspire, motivate, and support others who are struggling. I believe everyone deserves a second chance, regardless of their past experiences. No matter how challenging or dark their stories may be, they deserve hope.”
I was 6 years old when I was sexually harassed. From then on, I became an alcoholic. Every day I woke up from my bed. Stressed. Most of the time when I woke up, I wanted to give up. I was tired, and I was losing a never-ending battle with myself and my thoughts. But I was able to make a change 10 years later. I was able to break out of that never-ending cycle of a continuous battle with me and my inner thoughts. I was able to end my alcohol addiction, and now I am 2 years free from it. This is my story.
Part 1: Waking Up to a Fight
It happened during the winter of 2013. I was pretty much like every child back then. I used to wake up from my bed, happy and excited to attend school. I woke up from bed, brushed my teeth and ate my breakfast, which was always a bottle of Ensure with a plate of pancakes. Every time I was finished eating, I put my plate in the sink, and I ran to throw on my yellow uniform with my black slacks. I loved hanging out with my friends, and I loved attending the classes I used to have. My schedule was always the same every day. Reading, Writing, Math, Lunch, Assembly, Gym, and then dismissal. That was my typical schedule every day during first grade.
During dismissal, my dad would always pick me up from elementary school. When I got home from school, I would either go to the living room to complete my homework or I would either take my homework to my grandma’s house next door. I loved spending quality time with my grandma and my dad the most because they both raised me for the majority of time in my life. Without them, I wouldn't have been the person I am today.
My grandma lived in a cozy three-bedroom house with one bathroom and a basement that had an extra room, another bathroom, and an open space. At the entrance, a long hallway led to the living room. I took off my shoes, and my Grandma guided me to sit. A moment later, she brought me a plate of rice, chicken, and gravy. “Thank you, Grandma,” I said. “You’re welcome, baby,” she replied warmly. The smell of the food was so good and I couldn’t wait enough to have a bite. After finishing my meal, I placed the empty plate in the sink.
A few years ago, my grandma offered her basement to local mosque members. My family knew them well, as we used to attend their mosque before rising rent forced it to close. When they lost their space, my grandma, who was close to them, offered her basement to help. The members were very grateful for the space my grandma offered to them.
The mosque community is still around today. After my grandma passed during the COVID pandemic in 2020, the members bought her house to have more space. It was her wish for them to use it for worship. She saw them as family, calling them her “sons” and “daughters,” and they called her “Mom” or "Mama."
I used to attend church school in my grandma’s basement every Saturday and Sunday. My family was very religious and wanted me to stay connected to God. While I wasn’t as religious at the time, my faith became more important to me as I grew older. Every weekend, new teachers and students joined us, but I mostly stuck with people I knew closely. One weekend, a new teacher came in. He had a black beard, light skin, brown eyes, and a bald spot. He seemed friendly from the start. After class, he organized fun activities for us, with prizes like candy and free lunch. We always had a great time when he was around.
A few days later, I noticed something strange. After church school ended, the new instructor always stayed in the basement by himself after everyone left school. He started bringing his personal belongings and lived in the basement room. When I saw him moving in, I ran upstairs to tell my grandma, but she didn’t say much. Later, after another church school session, he brought in someone else to stay with him, and I wanted to know who this person was. After putting my plate in the sink, I told my grandma I was going to the basement. She said, “Okay.” When I got downstairs, I saw the new person. He was alone and had light skin, brown eyes, curly hair, a black beard, and wire-framed glasses. I introduced myself: “My name is Sameer. What’s yours?” He looked at me, but I can’t remember his name. He seemed nice, and we talked for about ten minutes before the instructor came back. When the instructor saw us, he said, “You met one of my friends, huh?” I replied, “Yeah, he’s cool.” They both smiled, and I smiled too. After that, I went back upstairs. My grandma saw me, but I didn’t say anything.
A few days later, I continued to hang out with the instructor and his friend when I went to my grandma’s house. I hung out with them on the church school weekends and sometimes during the weekdays after my school day was over. Then, one day, it happened.
That day, I saw my grandma and she was in the kitchen, busy as usual, making something to eat. I told my grandma I was going to the basement again, and she told me, “Okay.” I went downstairs, and I didn’t see my instructor there, but I saw his friend there. There was something off. My mind was telling me to run upstairs back to my grandma’s house, but I didn’t listen to my inner instinct.
I walked towards the instructor's friend. I went to go say hi to him. I asked him, “Hey. Do you want to play an activity like tic tac toe or hangman?” He replied with, “Yes. But under one condition. Before we play the game you gotta do something for me.” I asked him, “What was it?” He then told me, “You got to allow me to physically touch you.”
In my mind I didn’t really understand what he was saying. I was just a kid. But I knew that I should say no because he sounded aggressive and it was weird to me. I told him, “No.” When I told him this, his facial expression changed. He looked at me and had an evil grin stretched across his face. From there, he grabbed me. He covered my mouth and held me tightly, and I wasn’t able to scream or call for help. I was harassed for 30 seconds to 1 minute, and I was able to run out of the room to my grandma’s house. I ran upstairs, but I didn’t tell my grandma anything because I was scared and traumatized.
I told my grandma I wanted to go home, and she replied, “Okay, baby,” giving me a big, warm hug before I left. On the walk back, I felt weak and traumatized by what had happened. When I got home, I placed my shoes on the rack and saw my mom, dad, brother, and sister sitting at the dining table. My parents smiled and asked, “Hey! How was your day at Grandma’s?” Afraid of their reaction, I hid the truth and said, “It was good.” I went straight to the bathroom, took a shower, and slipped into my warm pajamas. For days afterward, I cried alone. A few days later, I told my dad what happened that day and the events leading up to it. He later shared it with my mom. I can’t remember everything that followed, but I do recall my dad saying, “The person who did this isn’t there anymore. Neither is the instructor.”
A few days after the incident happened, I was getting ready for another day at school. My mom dropped me off at school and she asked me, “Sameer, are you sure you don’t want us to do anything about this situation?” I replied saying, “I don’t wanna talk about this incident anymore.” My mom looked at me and left the school building.
Part 2: The Impact of Comp Sci High
As I got older, school felt different. I still finished my work in every class but lacked motivation and purpose. In elementary school, I stayed quiet and tried not to draw attention. I was bullied occasionally for being silent, and although I reported it, neither the teachers nor the principals seemed to care. I never told my parents about the bullying. I pushed through and made it to the end. Middle school wasn’t much different—I kept to myself and just focused on getting through it especially with the trauma I was carrying.
Transitioning from middle school to high school was tough, especially since much of middle school was spent learning from home. When I first walked into Comp Sci High, the environment and people felt different. I met my advisor, Mr. Chambers, and soon after, I made two close friends—Mr. C and Ms. Liani. I felt motivated to attend school and driven to connect with new people. However, by 10th grade, something inside me held me back. I often dozed off in class, and my mind would go blank when teachers called on me. I kept thinking about what happened 11 years ago, constantly asking myself, “What could I have done differently to stop it?” By 11th grade, those thoughts took an even greater toll on me.
In 11th grade, I hit a mental, emotional, and physical low. I felt exhausted and barely slept during the first few weeks. My thoughts overwhelmed me—I believed that being harassed made me weak, that I was a failure, and that the incident was my fault. I kept my trauma to myself, convinced no one would care about my struggles. I was also struggling with some of the ways I coped with my struggles. During elementary and middle school, I struggled with alcoholism. It was a tough battle that drained me physically, emotionally, and mentally. I drank one to two glass bottles of liquor daily depending on how much I really wanted. It felt good being able to be happy and wasted for 15 to 20 minutes each time after a drink. But each time when the effects started to ease off, reality hit hard. I felt lost, sad, and exhausted. Drinking became my way of escaping trauma, but it only made me more distressed.
My bad habits changed when I joined Comp Sci High. But not immediately. For the first time, I was in an environment where people genuinely cared about my well-being. I didn’t have teachers who prioritized mental health before, but meeting my best friend's Mr. C and Ms. Liani made a huge difference. With their support, I slowly broke free from my addiction, even though it was hard to let go of the habit I relied on for so long. By sophomore year, I had quit drinking, and it was the best decision I ever made.
One day in September, I decided to finally open up to Ms. Liani. I felt overwhelmed, unsure how to tell her. After school, I approached her and asked, “Hey, can I talk to you really quickly?” She smiled and said, “Sure, let me find us a room.” We went to Ms. Alder’s office and sat down. I told Ms.Liani, “I didn’t really know how to approach you with this but I'm gonna tell you anyway. When I was little I was sexually harassed and I was an alcoholic for the majority of my life.”
She looked at me. She replied with, “Sameer. I really appreciate you for telling me this. And I want you to know that you're not alone as well.” She then told me, “I want you to talk to one of the social workers here at the school. I replied with, “Okay. Thank you so much.” I decided to take the help because I didn’t know if this was gonna take a more aggressive toll over time. Ms.Liani took me to the room where the social worker was and Mr.C was also in the room since I had a very close friendship with him as well.
We all sat together in the room as Ms. Liani shared my story with the social worker. The social worker told me, “I’m here to help and support you throughout the year.” I knew I couldn’t afford to let my mental health slip; I didn’t want it to change who I was. Working with her helped relieve some of the stress, but by March of 11th grade, I hit my lowest point. My relationship with my family wasn’t great, and I didn’t feel good about myself. I doubted my worth and saw myself as a failure, even reaching the point of feeling suicidal. At that moment, I messaged a friend, sharing what I was going through. He listened and talked me out of it. Afterward, I decided to text Mr. C and Ms. Liani to let them know what was really happening.
The next day at school, I spent time with the social worker, sharing my situation. She helped me find the resources I needed and did everything she could to ensure the incident wouldn’t happen again. Throughout the rest of my junior year, I received the support I needed from my social worker and continued to focus on my healing.
Part 3: The Wrap-Up
Before I finish this article, I want to say thank you to my best friends, Mr. C and Ms. Liani. Without you both, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Your support has made a huge difference in my life. I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I understand how difficult it is for people to carry their stories and trauma alone. Sometimes, they feel isolated. Mental health takes a heavy toll on both teenagers and adults, often feeling like a never-ending battle where life seems to be on autopilot. You might find yourself thinking of ways to change, wondering, “What could I have done to achieve a different outcome?”
I asked myself this question many times. I even asked Mr.C and Ms.Liani about what I could’ve done to change this outcome. But the first answer they both gave me was, “You can’t go back in time to change the past. You can’t control people's actions.” They both then told me, “What you can control is yourself and your own actions. Stop worrying about what others think of you.” I understood at the end of the day, it’s your life, and you deserve to live it on your own terms. Focus on your growth and well-being, and surround yourself with people who support and uplift you. Remember, you have the power to shape your future.
I found my purpose in life: to inspire, motivate, and support others who are struggling. I believe everyone deserves a second chance, regardless of their past experiences. No matter how challenging or dark their stories may be, they deserve hope. I want to encourage people, especially the youth, to pursue their dreams, no matter how crazy or unbelievable they may seem to others. It’s important for people to know they’re not alone in their struggles and to seek the help and support they need to take their next steps. No battle should be fought alone. Don’t be scared of what you've been through in the past. Whether you're a student, staff member, or someone in the world struggling with mental health, trauma, or something difficult. I want you to hear one message. Seek help if you really need it. Don’t be afraid of your flaws. You are resilient, brave, and you matter.