So, what happens now?

I wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted to sleep and go about my life like nothing had happened April 2nd.

But I had been wheeled out of my dorm on a stretcher sobbing and screaming. It was kind of hard to pretend that nothing had happened and the school was freaking the freak out. My on campus counselor called me in for an emergency session and the head of the counseling department called me and a lady in the dean of students office called me. I quickly became cynical and angry. It seemed like all they wanted to do was ensure that I wasn’t going to sue them or commit suicide on campus (don’t worry guys – I’ll try not to damage your reputation with my emotional anguish because it is about YOU). Whether or not that was the goal, that’s what it felt like. My roommate/bff and I stopped speaking and chose not to live together for the next year (if you’re thinking of blaming her for abandoning me, plz don’t. A suicidal, angry, and needy af roommate is a lot for a nineteen year-old to handle on her own. I blamed her for a long time but like, that was a me thing and I’m a teensy bit more grown-up now. I will cover mental illness and forgiveness in a later post, stay tuned).

ANYWAY. I almost committed suicide and now I had to figure my life out and part of that was meeting with a psychiatrist and a psychologist. No part of me wanted to talk about that awful night anymore, but my parents insisted (thanks guys!!). I was really lucky that my psychologist, Sam, got me. She understood who I was and what I was going through. She let me talk about anything I wanted to and validated all the things I was feeling and validated my diagnosis. I was terrified that I would talk to these doctors and they would tell me I was just a wimp, that everybody suffers what I do and I just sucked at it (does that sound like a symptom of anxiety because I feel like it does). But Sam confirmed that I was sick but that I was going to get better with her help and I would eventually see myself in a much better light. I stopped dreading going to those sessions and instead began rather enjoying them. I loved Sam and Mom always took me to Starbucks afterwards for a treat (I’m basically a child being bribed to get a shot). I was lucky. My Mom and I always talked about my sessions after them and Dad asked if there was anything he could help me with. Jacob (my super cute boyfriend) was so, so supportive and my little sister was happy not to talk about anything that made me sad if I didn’t want to. I couldn’t ask for a better support system.

I am very lucky to have had that summer. One of rest, healing, and change. I got on meds that brought me back to who I want to be (I was, again, very lucky! The right drug the first time! I had to have it upped but I got to equilibrium with my meds way faster than most people). And I felt ready to keep going.

Those were my next steps. I got back to feeling like a person with lots, and lots of help. So much help. So, so, so much help guys. I can’t stress that enough. HELP. I didn’t want help but I got it anyway and oh my gosh that probably literally saved my life. But that wasn’t the end. I had an amazing summer and I am so lucky I got as much help as I did but my problem wasn’t solved. I have anxiety and depression and being happy doesn’t change that. I have so much further to go and sometimes I still feel crazy. Sometimes I still scream and cry and stay in bed because it feels like nothing matters and no one cares. I am recovering. I am learning to live with my mental illnesses because they don’t just go away. I am recovering but it’s baby steps team.

I think my point here guys is that people matter so much and caring about people matters. Seek help when you need it. Offer help when you are able and never, ever be ashamed to accept help from people who love you. And people love you, I promise they do. You have gotten this far and I can’t tell you how hard recovery is but it is worth it. Do it for you, for me, and for all the people who love you.

(Thank you for the amazing response! All I have is my experience to go off of but I’m so, so glad we’re talking about mental health. Thank you for sharing your stories with me. Together, we are stronger than anything we face alone.)