‘I put on a smile while crumbling on the inside’

If you would’ve told me a year ago that Suicide Prevention Month would have any sort of significance to me, I would’ve thought you were joking. For most of my life, I’ve excelled in every aspect; I take the absolute hardest classes possible, play two varsity sports, participate in my church youth group, volunteer, and have wonderful friends. As a result of my status as an overachiever, I naively thought I was immune to mental health challenges. 

Yet, even as I’ve excelled, I’ve always been an overly anxious human. I remember getting panic attacks in middle school over trivial issues such as forgetting a homework assignment or losing a gym uniform. 

After middle school, my overwhelming anxiety followed me to LFHS. Those around me saw the inner turmoil I was desperately trying to hide. One of my best friends called me the most anxious person she’d ever met. Teachers suggested trying different coping mechanisms. Basketball teammates urged me to reach out to someone. 

For a time, I half-heartedly listened to their suggestions; I tried running, meditation, and talking with my school social worker.  Nonetheless, I rejected most of their help. I thought I had it all under control, but I was wrong.

During my junior year, I hit a breaking point. I know now that when anxiety goes untreated for long periods of time, it turns into depression. That’s exactly what happened to me. I pushed my mind and body beyond their limits. Eventually, they couldn’t take it anymore, and I slipped into a dark depression. 

In late September, I started feeling emotionally numb. No amount of joy or sorrow could affect me. The numbness was a crippling sensation; it was painful to not feel anything at all. At the same time, my stress levels peaked and social anxiety was added into the mix for the first time. 

Simple tasks such as ordering coffee made me sweat. Even around close friends, I was unable to hold a conversation without becoming flustered. I told myself everyone hated me and didn’t want to be near me. 

By October, I had fully fallen into depression. I randomly cried during practice and school for no reason. As well, I was horribly irritable (surprisingly, this is the most common depression symptom). I snapped at people I cared about who meant no harm. No amount of sleep could take away a never-ending exhaustion and heaviness on my chest. 

One of my most significant memories during that time was one day during math class. I remember sitting in class and just slumping down in my chair while my eyes welled with tears. It was too exhausting to even take notes at that point. That’s the kind of tiredness depression gives its victims; simple tasks become Herculean. 

I put on a smile while crumbling on the inside. Someone stepped on my chest even when I was all alone. I had a sense of hopelessness that made my life seem not worth living. I felt more dead than alive. Worst of all, I know what it’s like to wish with every fiber in your being that you didn’t exist.

I was incredibly overwhelmed. Prior to my depressive episode, I already had too many responsibilities on my plate. With depression added onto that heavy load, it felt like someone was pushing me underwater. Even as I thrashed in the water with all my might, I could never rise above and breathe.

For months, I hid my agony. My ability to achieve masked the deep sorrow and turmoil I experienced on the inside. No one knew what was going on internally, because I didn’t exhibit many outward depression symptoms. I still got amazing grades in difficult classes, started on the varsity basketball team, and participated in a boatload of activities.

For a while, my depression was my best kept secret. I didn’t want to let anyone in because I thought I was a freak for having suicidal thoughts. The thought that circulated in my mind was “how can I feel this way?”

Even when I realized I was depressed, I still didn’t want help. From September to early winter, I tried to pull myself out of my depressive episode all alone. For some, it’s possible to win against depression without extra help, but for most, it’s a battle you’ll lose if you fight by yourself. 

Over winter break, someone else’s vulnerability convinced me to finally get the help I desperately needed. I talked with a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while, and she shared her own story with mental illness. She told me that she had suicidal thoughts while in high school. 

I was shocked; I’d always seen her as untouchable and relatively free of hardship. Nonetheless, her moment of truth allowed me to see there was nothing to be ashamed of in getting help, and that even high achievers such as myself could fall victim to mental illness. 

Soon after winter break, I started opening up to those around me. I saw my school social worker, a therapist, and was put on medication by a psychiatrist. I’m not going to lie, being vulnerable and telling the truth is extremely difficult. It can be awful in the moment and as soon as you open your mouth to share, you may regret it. Yet, at the same time, there is a freeing feeling in finally being honest and no longer having to keep everything to yourself. 

As soon as I shared my struggles, I realized I wasn’t fighting this battle alone; there was a whole team of supporters who had helped me without even knowing it. They were even more ready to get me through this hard time now that they knew what I was dealing with.

I can’t stress enough that supports don’t have to be people who are mental health professionals. Supports can be anyone who helps you get through the bad days; social workers, counselors, teachers, coaches, friends and parents are great examples. At the same time, you may find them where you aren’t even looking. For example, the athletic trainers at LFHS helped me get through so much. They listened to my complaints, gave me candy before hard practices, let me cry with no shame, and just gave me a safe space. 

In addition to seeing multiple mental health professionals, taking medication, and having a great network of supports, quarantine acted as a bit of a recovery period for me. I returned to old childhood passions such as friendship bracelets, coloring, and long walks in nature. 

I also had more time to engage in coping strategies such as running. During the summer, things aligned in my favor and I slowly started to recover. My depression symptoms lifted and I started feeling more like myself. 

Even though I reached out for help in the winter, I didn’t get better right away. The path to recovery is not linear; it takes time and has ups and downs. I still have bad days. Just because I’m not at my all time low doesn’t mean I’m cured. For now, I find solace in my faith and have the proper support and treatment in my life to make things easier. My life isn’t perfect, but it’s much better than it was during the fall and winter. 

For a while, I believed my experience with depression made me weak. I now know that is not true; my mental health challenges make me stronger. I have known great suffering and can understand great suffering in others. For that, I am grateful.

As part of my recovery process, I am slowly trying to alleviate my shame surrounding my struggle with mental illness. Still, I hate talking about my experience with mental illness because it makes me feel vulnerable. Vulnerability never has been nor ever will be one of my strong suits. However, what I hate more is that in 2020, depression and suicide still have stigma attached to them.

Depression can affect anyone. It seems cliché, but it truly is okay to not be okay. If you are struggling right now with depression or suicidal ideation, I’m incredibly glad you’ve decided to fight for another day. Sometimes it can be hard to wake up and face the world. I’m proud of you for choosing to do that today. 

You don’t have to feel this way forever. Please reach out to someone. They can be a school social worker, counselor, teacher, friend, or anyone really. You can even reach out to me if you don’t feel comfortable talking to anyone else. Getting help and being vulnerable is scary, but it’s worth it.

One day the dark clouds will part and reveal a great, big shining sun. Stay to see it. 

For help, please visit/call/email

The National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Text-A-Tip: For Lake County, text LAKECO to 1-844-823-5323

LFHS Student Support Service Social Workers:

Lisa Huffman [email protected]

Maggie Harmsen [email protected]

Dan Maigler [email protected]