From Pain to Power: A Journey of Resilience and Transformation

By Sarah Samra, Clarion Chief-Editor

Content Warning: The following story is personal in nature, and contains depictions of neglect, abuse, and suicidal ideation. If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or impulses, help is available: call or text 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

There was a time in my life when I felt utterly unloved and worthless. I was born into a family in India that saw me as nothing more than a disappointment because of my gender. Growing up as a girl in India meant facing inherent limitations on my prospects and values. In search of a better life, my family decided to immigrate to America. However, our struggles only seemed to intensify. We faced language barriers, financial hardships, and the deteriorating mental health of my father and sister. The constant chaos and dysfunction at home left me feeling emotionally unstable and isolated.

I vividly remember a time when my mom saved up all of her money to bring us to our first apartment. I thought that finally, everything would be okay and we could live happily as a family. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Our household was filled with daily arguments and my dad's abusive behavior towards my mom. He would often hit her and cruelly remind her that I, Pinki Sarah, was not his biological daughter. Hearing him shout those words every single night tore me apart as a child, making me feel incredibly sad and insecure. I began to believe that I was possibly adopted because my family was already treating me differently. 

My mom, burdened with the responsibility of making money and taking care of everyone, had no time for me. She hired a nanny to look after me, as her focus shifted to providing for our family and paying the bills. It was a heartbreaking realization that my first caregiver and source of love was not my mother, but my nanny. She became like a second mother to me. However, when I was eight years old, my nanny left, and once again, I felt a deep sense of worthlessness. Losing the only person who had shown me genuine care and affection was devastating. I experienced feelings of neglect and mistreatment from my own family, which often made me feel like an outsider in my own bloodline. On top of this, there were instances when others made me believe that I was adopted, intensifying my sense of not belonging.

Unfortunately, education was not deemed important for me, and attending school was actively discouraged. Consequently, my academics suffered, and I was constantly caught up in the turbulent family issues that consumed my every waking moment. To add to my pain, my sister seemed to receive all the love and attention from our family, which only served to deepen the wounds of neglect and abuse that haunted me. These experiences left me feeling isolated and friendless at school. At a tender age of 9, I battled overwhelming feelings of depression and despair. There were countless moments when I even contemplated taking my own life.

As time passed, my birthday approached, and I was eagerly anticipating turning 10 years old. I can still vividly recall how my mom had been planning my birthday party to take place around 8 PM in the evening. Excitement filled the air as everyone gathered for the celebration. However, to my dismay, my dad arrived home that evening in an inebriated state. The happiness quickly turned into fear as he suddenly lashed out at my mom in front of me and our other family members. The atmosphere grew tense as I watched helplessly, desperate for someone to intervene.

In a distressing turn of events, my dad, fueled by his intoxication and anger, decided to ruin my special day. He callously took the birthday cake and smudged it all over my face, leaving me feeling humiliated and broken-hearted. As if that wasn't enough, he then locked me away in a room, isolating me from the outside world for an entire week. The days turned into a blurry mix of sorrow and confusion as I sat alone, contemplating why my own father would subject me to such cruelty on a day meant for joy. Despite the darkness that surrounded me, I held onto a glimmer of hope, dreaming of a day when birthdays would bring genuine happiness and love.

At the age of 10, I turned to food as a way to cope with my overwhelming emotions. Unfortunately, this led to excessive weight gain and a dangerous addiction to Dr. Pepper. Binge eating and drinking temporarily made me feel better, but in reality, I was stuck in a harmful cycle. Moreover, the kids at school began teasing me about my weight, calling me hurtful names like "water tank" and "hot air balloon." Their words made me angry, and I started believing them, which only worsened my self-esteem. As a result, I developed eating disorders where I would fluctuate between periods of overeating and restrictive eating.

My journey through the torment of sexual harassment has been overwhelming, leaving me feeling powerless and isolated. Bravely, I disclosed the agonizing truth to my mother, yearning for her support and protection. However, instead of standing by me, she chose to turn a blind eye, prioritizing her loyalty to her brother over my well-being. This heartbreaking experience is yet another example of my mother's refusal to acknowledge the truth and advocate for justice.

Living in America provided no respite for my family. My father's encounters with negative influences led him down a dark path of addiction, and my mother became the target of his violent outbursts. It was during one of these terrifying episodes that I had no choice but to call 911 and save my mother from further harm. The police arrived, and my father was eventually arrested. I called 911 on him so many times, thinking that everything would be okay and my mom and I would live happily as a family once again. I was wrong. Every time, she always supported him and brought him back home. One day, I called 911 on him because he was beating my mom to death with a frying pan. I pushed him away, took my mom outside, and called the police. I got him arrested.

At school, my teacher knew something was wrong. I told my teacher everything that was happening to me at home. They called Child Protective Services (CPS). This is when I met my social worker, at age 12. I had my first court hearing, and the court ordered parenting classes for my mom and individual therapy for me. My mom never attended her parenting classes and never took me to my therapy appointments. She left me with my sister, who also had mental issues. My mom did not come home for weeks, and my sister used to leave me alone in the house. She would beat me up and throw away all the food, so I starved. I tried calling my mom, but she didn't pay attention to me or my words. I had enough of my sister, so I used someone else's phone to call the police on her. This is when my mom finally came home, and the police realized there was no food in the house. They took me away. I was scared because I didn't know what was going to happen to me.

The police took me to a children's receiving home, where I stayed for weeks. However, they couldn't keep me there for too long, so they decided to transfer me to a group home in Placerville called Summitview Child & Family Services. I was so scared, and my anxiety went up and down. Finally, I arrived at the group home, and I had a court hearing where my mom decided to give me up. She picked her husband and her other daughter over me. This broke me into a million pieces. After that, I decided to work on myself. I was in the group home for two years. There, I met my therapist, who encouraged me to get out of there and advocated for me. I learned how to advocate for myself from her. I learned a lot from her.

However, she eventually left her job, and living in the group home was not easy. I had to face so many challenges every single day. Court hearings still continued, and I had to see my mom in court every month. When I was thinking about foster care, I met my first foster mom . She was amazing and I loved her a lot. However, when I started therapy with Stanford's services, it was challenging for me to come out of my shell. The goal was for me to go back home, but the court recommended family therapy with my mom, which didn't go well. I ran away from the foster home and went to my mom's house for a night visit. The next day, I returned to the foster house ahead of a court hearing, where I made the decision of not going back home because deep down, I knew my life would never change. The decision I made that day was a good one.

After CPS began searching for a new home for me, I met several foster parents, but none of them felt like the right fit. Then, I came across an elderly Christian couple, my second foster parents. Initially, I felt like moving in with them would be alright, but soon they started imposing their beliefs and religion on me, disregarding the fact that I identified as a lesbian. I wasn't comfortable with that at all. Around the same time, I started my freshman year at John F. Kennedy High School. Despite facing some difficulties, I persevered and made it through. However, towards the end of the school year, my foster parents informed me that I had only two weeks left to find a new home because of my sexuality and other reasons. It was during this challenging time that I met my first caseworker. She was incredibly kind, and we built a strong relationship. My case worker  and CPS worked diligently to find a new placement for me, and luckily, they were able to find one near my school.

As my sophomore year began, I moved in with my new foster mom. I've faced significant challenges, particularly with her, who often belittled me and never offered support. During sophomore year, I began therapy with Fit, but I soon realized I needed more comprehensive help. That's when I sought assistance from a wraparound team, who have been pivotal in helping me confront my deepest struggles. The progress I've made in my journey toward self-love and improved relationships has been truly remarkable.

After my junior year, I was excited to start my senior year, but I faced new struggles when my mom was diagnosed with cancer. Losing her to the disease was an incredibly difficult experience for me. Today, I no longer feel overwhelmed by sadness. I've learned to engage in healthier activities and adopt practices that lead to a more fulfilling life. However, my healing journey continues, and I still encounter various challenges, including academic pressure, judgment from others, and the need to stay focused on my goals.

Driven by determination, I've made the choice to distance myself from my parents and pursue higher education. My ultimate goal is to become an attorney, advocating for children who have faced similar difficulties at home. I want to be their voice and ensure they receive the support and representation they deserve. Additionally, I aspire to be a positive role model for those struggling with their self-image. Having triumphed over my own battle with obesity, I know firsthand that transformation is possible through dedication and sacrifice. Losing over 150 pounds has allowed me to embrace a healthier lifestyle, boosting my confidence and bringing immense joy to my life.

While my healing journey is ongoing, I've learned that I have the power to rewrite my narrative. I refuse to let my past define me, and I'm committed to building a future filled with success, happiness, and opportunities to inspire and uplift others. Today, I remain focused on healing, learning, growing, and finding joy in the little things. The inner child within me is doing significant work, and I can feel the positive changes unfolding in my life.

Today, I lead a happier life. I own my own clothing business online  and work with Sacramento , representing foster youth.advocating  for teen moms  As a high school senior, I live independently in my own apartment with my beloved dog, Auggie. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. I was accepted into college and plan to continue my education in law. Everything I have achieved is the result of hard work and determination. I never gave up, and I won't stop now. If I can do it, so can you—I believe in you! Remember, success doesn't come overnight; it takes time.

My goal is to become a lawyer and advocate for people's rights. Everything that I have today in life, I worked so hard for. It was not easy. I worked three jobs part-time and started my clothing business. Today, I own two online shops and have my own apartment. I have my dog and the life that I always wanted, and I worked hard for it. No one gave it to me like a handout. I worked for it and achieved it. My dream is to become a single foster mom and help children who are in need.

Thank you for reading my story.