Latinx Actress Feeds Undocumented Immigrants During Pandemic, Says ‘We Have To Take Care Of Each Other’
At 18, I fell in love for the first time and finally felt significant. But when she cheated on me, my deepest fears were confirmed, and a violent suicide attempt landed me in a mental institution. Just a few years later, a psychiatric assessment diagnosed me with antisocial personality disorder. I had everyone telling me I was bad: from my dad, to my school, to the police. I felt like there was nothing left for me.
Things kept falling apart. I kept on taking two steps forward, ten steps back, and waking up in a prison cell. After that, I was practically on a suicide mission. I put myself in deliberate danger because I didn’t care. This kept progressing until I turned 24 and hit rock bottom. I got drunk and attacked a man, leaving him in a coma. I thought I killed him, and the shock of ruining my life shook me to my core. I knew I went too far, and got sentenced to 18 months in prison.
I started getting into a routine. I visited the psychiatric department and took part in their inmate rehabilitation program. At first, I was defiant; I dismissed everything and trusted no one. But when I started listening to their workshops, things started to make sense. I wanted more, so I signed up for further education in the math and English departments. This was a big deal for me. Having left school at 15 with no qualifications, I felt stupid, and never wanted to reveal that I was.