CONTENT WARNING: Suicide
My hands were shakily holding onto a tiny bottle as red, circle-shaped pills slowly dropped one by one into my left hand.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
Ten pills. That was all that remained in that pill bottle, and at the time, I yearned that they would be enough for me to leave this Earth. All the thoughts I was overthinking, all the people who said they loved and cared for me, all my work, I'd finally be free.
As I was about to take them, my roommate and our friend group walked into our dorm room, one by one, all of them in shock, attempting to pry my hands away from my mouth.
We all sat in the dark dorm room, with everyone holding on to me, worried. That was my first and so far, last, attempt at suicide.
Fast forward 3 years later:
I enter the Crisis Text Line platform for the first time after my training. I look at a computer screen, reading incoming texts from an individual in distress, whose name I will not share.
"I'm at the top of a bridge, I'm about to jump off of it. No one or nothing can stop me."
As a Crisis Counselor with Crisis Text Line, I was taught to respond calmly. However, I could not think any thoughts and everything I was taught went out the window.
I felt useless, so all I could say was: "You matter. There are so many people that love you and are valued by your presence. I hope you reconsider how important you are."
I did not hear from this individual afterwards. Nothing.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The second hand on my watch kept ticking as I was awaiting their response.
I contacted my supervisor, hoping that she could track their location to make sure they were okay, especially considering their imminent risk.
When their phone started ringing and they picked up, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It felt like I came full circle.
Now, that's not to say now I don't have my bad days.
There have been times where I've cried, screamed into a pillow, boxed the air like I was boxing the Rock, whatever else people do to cope. I've overcame a lot in my life: from my best friend's suicide attempt, my mother's motor vehicle accident, being dumped by a microaggressive, manipulative ex, "friends" who've made me feel alone and hurt, to people pleasing past the point of neglecting my own needs.
I share this as a first year medical student, a trauma survivor, and an attempt survivor. I'm tired of the stigma of mental health. I've been told countless times to not speak about my mental health issues. Why? Oh, because people will think you're incompetent, unable to make friends, can't do school work, be a burden, I can keep going…
Excuse me? Does it not make me or anyone a real person for speaking about mental health? I refuse to hide behind a wall, masking my trauma or mental health issues.
And I hope by hearing my story, you learn to be open too. Because when we are able to be open about our trauma, our mental health concerns, our story, that is when we as a community can truly heal and work to destigmatize mental health.
-- Your biggest supporter, Sandhya
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