Earlier I mentioned that I had my first suicidal thoughts at the age of 12.
I also mentioned that things escalated quickly…
I’ll fast forward to the beginning of my undergraduate career. I entered college with aspirations of becoming a doctor and a straight A student… what a joke that was…
Up until now I grew more angry towards my father and had been through some seriously ridiculous relationships. Obviously, there’s a connection, they say you learn about self-worth and such through your relationships with the men in your life.
I had a hard time loving someone else and others had a hard time loving me. Could you imagine why? I was a skeptical pessimist who believed she was going to be abandoned by everyone. This mind set didn’t take long to consume my entire life, every fiber of my being, it dictated everything.
I became Negative Nancy herself. Thoughts such as “why should I study I’m just going to fail anyways” “No one likes me in that class, I just shouldn’t go.” Began to take over my mind. I quickly became a failing college student and not because I was partying too hard or having too much fun but because I was becoming my own worst enemy.
It was clear that life had wrapped its hands around my throat and was watching me as I suffocated. I became stressed with the amount of time I had to work in order to make sure we were surviving, the grades I needed to get in order to pursue graduate school and the person I had to be in order for society to not only accept me but, like me. I went to school groomed for my peers. I woke up 2 hours before class everyday to make sure my makeup and hair were done and my clothes made a statment. All any of that got me was negative attention. (Here’s an example: As I was waiting to filter into my physics class with everyone else, a colleague turned to me and said “why do you wear so much makeup?” This is the first thing this indivuald had said to me in the two years we were going to school together.) It seemed as though people talked more about me, the girl who tried too hard in comparison to anything else that was going on. The worst part is, no one took the time to get to know who I really was. I felt like I was in a war I had no chance of winning. I began skipping classes and sleeping more.
NIGHT TIME SUCKS
When the sun goes down, demons seem to come out. We can all agree that our brains rattle with thoughts the most in the shower and before bed. All of my thinking was done as soon as I laid down to go to sleep. It wasn’t until one particular night that I had realized that I had no control over my thoughts anymore. I laid in bed pitying the amount of friends I didn’t have, the cool college stories I didn’t experience, and the burdening priorities nobody else seemed to have. These thoughts controlled me that night (March 2016). I rolled out of bed and walked over to the medication drawer (there were many meds in the house because of my mother’s illness). Like a possessed horror movie character I took all of the bottles back to my room, opened them up one by one and the next thing I knew, they were all empty. Moments after-I decided that I needed a new look. Ladies, you can relate, right? When we get stressed we need to do something to our hair. It was almost a complete transformation to a person I wasn’t.
It’s interesting, though, a week prior I had just competed in a pageant where I placed first runner up. I was good at faking it and keeping it together. The truth is, you can’t fake it till you make it. Faking it hospitalized me reeeeeeal quick.
I begged my mother to take me to the store so I could buy hair dye. I could barley walk and keep myself from vomiting in the store. I expressed how ill I felt to my mother and we quickly went home. I dyed my hair from blonde to black and went to bed. Moments felt like hours but at one point I snapped back to the reality of things. It was too late, though.
I knew that I was crying because I could taste the salted tears on my tongue but my entire body was so numb that I couldn’t feel them streaming down my face. I couldn’t feel my hands, my chest, or my feet. I realized that this wasn’t what I wanted. The only things I could think about at that point were graduation, becoming a doctor, volunteering, not about dying. I was fortunate enough to have had a very responsive friend who was at my door in minutes. The next thing I can remember is waking up in a hospital bed and hearing the nurse tell my mom that I wasn’t being discharged any time soon. When the doctor came to my room he had asked me what my intentions were that night. I openly and honestly responded, “I just wanted the pain to stop”.
*** Insight into the next blog post. They keep me hostage at the hospital (obviously)
But lets take a moment and pause:
Things that pushed me to that mental break:
-A rough major
-financial responsibility in the family
I know that I am NOT the only one who is dealing with these issues. These aren’t abnormal problems and they’re excusable reasons for someone to develop stress over. The cool thing about people is: we’re all so different. So before you judge me, remember, I may be more sensitive to a situation than you are and vice versa. People are dealing with far worse than I am and some are dealing with far less (but who is the judge of this? Who has the ability to assess someone’s life and say HEY! Your life sucks more than theirs. Yep, I didn’t think so). That’s what makes mental health complicated. It’s not cool to look at someone and think they’re overreacting. Just because you need to order a black coffee at Dunkin Donuts because you hate cream and sugar by no means implies that I can swallow one sip of a black cup of coffee. . I think that was a bad metaphor but you get it.
Here’s a before and after of the hair transformation. I like both now: but the dark hair is too much of a reminder of where I was.