Digital Project #1

Light On The Other Side of the Tunnel

Boom, whack, thud, bang! I was in my room unaware of the fact that my dad had shattered our window. As my mom, sister, and I conspired about what we just had seen, our next steps were to inform the police. This was one of the hardest things to do! For about 7-8 years, my dad has battled with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Bi-Polar Depression. PTSD or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can be defined as a mental health condition that happens after someone experienced or witnessed a traumatic event. In particular, my dad experiences distressing and intense feelings that are related to the event. At times, my dad will encounter flashbacks, nightmares, anxiety and uncontrollable thoughts. Bi-Polar Depression refers to a phase in which individuals enter a depressive state. Many, including my dad, encounter extreme mood swings, episodes that can be characterized by mania (highs) and (lows) that are depressive. Both mental health conditions have left my dad with symptoms of fatigue, loss of interest, feeling of worthlessness, appetite changes, sleep disturbances and suicidal thoughts.

Understanding what my dad was going through had to be another obstacle. Before my parents explained to my sister and I the mental health condition my dad had, we were surprised. We weren’t sure how to react to the news or to help my dad reduce the negative feelings he had. Since we were his only support system, it was vital that we were equipped with the knowledge to help him through his episodes and anything else he needed, even if it was to talk about his feelings. At times, I felt as if my dad’s mental health condition put strain on our family. In many instances, my mom has had to fill in the void for when my dad couldn’t be at his best. It has made me respect my mother more, for being resilient through it all.

It could be restated that my dad, a retired veteran of 15 years, had been dealing with his mental diagnosis throughout my entire childhood. He would go through the day acting as if everything was alright, but deep down he was suffering. My dad would go days without saying a word, it felt as if he disconnected from the world itself. I’d come home to him sitting in the dark. I always attempted to cheer him up, but it almost never worked. Anyways, I won’t bore you with all the details, but the fact here is that my dad’s mental illness affected me growing up. While some may look at it as bad, these experiences challenged me to become the best version of myself.

For as long as I can remember my dad has always given time, money, or kindness to his community and his family. As a kid, I was always inspired by that side of him. It started from packing bags of food at our local church. The way my dad smiled was genuine when he was helping others. He was happy! It looked as if he forgot about his traumatic childhood, he forgot about the guilt that was eating him up inside, and he forgot about being sad.

My dad, a Detroit native felt obligated to give back to his community even if it meant he had to go without. My father always realized that Detroit had been struggling as a city, so he volunteered with an organization that served food to the homeless. I was astonished and even inspired seeing him persevere through his battle of mental health. I was so astonished that I had to ask myself, “What can I do?” Suddenly it became clear. I had to volunteer, someway, somehow! There was one problem, I didn’t know where to start. After scrolling Google for five minutes, I ran across the Quad City Community Foundation. I found out that I could help fund organizations through grant-making. Quickly, I put in my application, waiting eagerly for a return email. About a month later, I received the letter! “ It came! It finally came,” I screamed walking up the stairs. My mom was so proud. She was practically glowing from hearing the news.

Later that day I told my dad about my acceptance. “Hey dad, I was accepted into this volunteer program.”

“Yea, I’m moving out of Moline, I can’t deal with these people at work, and there’s nothing to do here…”

Irrelevant. My good news was shunned away. It wasn’t deemed important. Sometimes, it felt as if my dad didn’t hear me. He was being consumed by his depressive thoughts and negative outlooks on life. The hardest thing that I realized was that I can’t make him want a better life for himself. I choose to put it behind me.

Volunteer work made me feel enlightened. I became educated about the issues in my community regarding food insecurity, homelessness, and immigration support. Visiting the organizations was the best part of this experience, it filled my soul! I lit up inside, and it reminded me of my dad! Last year I was called to make a decision on where $30, 000 would go. My job as a Teens for Tomorrow volunteer was to gather data and visit organizations in the Quad Cities that focused on food insecurity, immigration support, mental health, and affordable resources. After doing the previous task we then come up with a decision on how the money was to be divided. Our $30, 000 would go to 12 organizations for operational or project support focused in one of our target areas. We ended up having to choose from 48 organizations that applied and, out of those, only 12 were chosen.

The hardest decision was to stay true to myself. Because I was a second-year member, I had more experience. I’d seen this process in action was familiar with the organizations to whom we had already donated. I felt that other organizations deserved the money more than organizations that have already been granted the money. However, my peers still thought that the same organizations should receive the money, since they were more successful at helping more people. In rubbutel to this, I posited that smaller organizations possess the potential to become grassroots organizations with the help of our grant. Also, being that these organizations are smaller, they become more intimate in the process of helping others. It could be said that smaller organizations are dealing with their stakeholders on a 1-1 basis. Whereas, larger organizations are dealing with families at an increasing amount.

After debating the factors about each decision, it was time to vote. The majority of my peers voted to donate more money to the organization that we had previously donated to for 3 years in a row. Essentially, I had to be satisfied with my own opinion. Even though it wasn’t chosen and many didn’t agree, I still advocated for what was right. Questioning whether to stay true to myself or conform to the group decision was a hard one. However, through my dad’s inspiration to make a difference by sticking to my morals, made me feel good about myself.

In spite of my dad’s situation I learned that there is light on the other side of the tunnel. My dad’s struggle to find his way through life has motivated me to give back.