Postcard from the edge: student bravely shares cautionary experience, lesson for all
!TRIGGER WARNING!
Quarantine, due to the global pandemic known as COVID-19, has been hard on everyone. But, people don’t seem to think about the effects on those already struggling with mental health. I am one of those people.
I have struggled with depression and anxiety since I was 12 years old. It only got worse over the years. I began to self-harm when I was 13. I was able to stop for over a year. Then, life took a turn. I felt alone. I was hurting so badly in my mind that I felt the only thing I could control was my physical pain. The harm left scars that I now live with. I have debated covering them with a tattoo. I would need a half sleeve of tattoos on both of my arms to cover them all.
I began going to therapy in 8th grade. It didn’t do much. I was put on medication my freshman year. That didn’t help. I have been on more than six medications to try to help my depression. None of them have worked. I now have the ability to swallow eleven pills at once.
It was the beginning of sophomore year that my mental health hit rock bottom. By then, I was on to a new therapist and psychiatrist. They were continuing to change my medication and the dosage in order to have a steady intake. I was diagnosed with a general mood disorder, depression, and anxiety at the time.
At the beginning of March 2020, I attempted to end my own life. I realized that I had never experienced true anger before I had woken up the next morning after trying to overdose. I went to school the next day as if nothing had happened. The following day I had told my therapist what I had done. She sent me to a psychiatric facility outside of Oshkosh.
I had always been afraid to go to one because of what was portrayed on television. Trust me, it is nothing like in the movies. I met some really amazing people there, and nobody is in a straightjacket.
Everyday I met with multiple therapists and psychiatrists to try to help me with coping skills and sorting out my medications. I was put on and taken off four or five medications in the first three days. I was only supposed to be there for three days. I was there for eight days.
I was told again that I suffered from depression, anxiety, and a mood disorder. This time, the mood disorder was most likely related to manic depression, more commonly known as bipolar disorder. I was also told that I had insomnia and showed signs of ADHD, ADD, and OCD. I have a laundry list going on in my head to say the least.
I was able to go home after those eight days and missing school for a week was hard. Everyone at school and my home thought I was doing better. They tried to be sympathetic and act like they cared. But I didn’t think they did. I knew I still wasn’t okay. I started to save my medication a week later to try to overdose again. My therapist found out and sent me back to the hospital that very day. It was only seven days after I had gotten released the first time.
They changed my medications almost every day once again. I was told the same things and I didn’t think it was going to work. This time was harder because the second time I went, regulations due to COVID-19 were in place. We couldn’t sit together during any meal. There was no group therapy. We had occupational therapy in small groups and nobody had a roommate. I still stayed close with them though after the hospital, even though they say not to.
Covid took a toll on me. We were in quarantine; nobody going in and nobody going out. The only interaction I ever got was from going to work. I worked for around 15 hours a week. Otherwise, I was always away from everyone. Everytime I would try to talk about it, my parents took it personally because my mom has an autoimmune disorder. She is compromised, and everytime I would try to talk about it she took it as me not caring about her or her health.
Not being able to talk in my own home took another toll, because not only could I not be with as many people that I trusted but I couldn’t even talk to the people around me.
I was left alone for months with my thoughts, after I already had been struggling for years with mental health. I had considered taking my life almost everyday. But I kept pushing. I still struggle every day. I am still battling with myself every day. But I am the proof that it is possible to push through. It is possible to keep going after surviving a suicide attempt.
I say I survived an attempt instead of calling it a failed attempt. I am a survivor of depression. Most people still struggle everyday because there is no simple cure. Many people in my life, teachers, friends, and even my parents, didn’t know that my mental health had gotten that bad, if they knew I had anything going on at all.
Looking back I realize I should’ve reached out sooner. Everytime someone comes to me because they are struggling with mental health, my first piece of advice is to find help. I push them to do so because I know what can happen when you don’t. There are so many places to go for help. Whether it be your family members, teachers, friends, therapists, counselors, a suicide hotline or anywhere else, asking for help is the hardest thing to do. But it is the one thing that could save your life.
The one thing I want to say to anyone who reads this is that you are not alone. I know it may feel that way and I know that everyone has heard that at least once in their life. But that really is the truth. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. The light may be dim and far away, but it's there. Two steps forward and one step back is still a step forward. There are people that love you and support you, even if you don’t believe it. Ask for help, and always tell yourself that there will be a tomorrow.
By an Anonymous Student
Oshkosh West Index, Volume 117 Issue I
October 2nd, 2020