Class of 2010
The hardest part of getting help is to push past your pride and vulnerability and admit that you cannot do it alone.
My main stresses and problems in high school involved grades and body image. The circle of friends I had consisted of people who had similar interests in music, art, etc. and we didn’t pressure each other to do things we didn’t want to. We didn’t do drugs, alcohol, or anything like that because we didn’t need it to have fun. My biggest struggle was maintaining my grades because I was a big procrastinator and I’d had problems with grades in the past. Mostly the pressure came from myself: the fear of disappointing my parents or failing a class. I felt alone because I didn’t want to talk about it with my parents. I didn’t think it was a big enough problem, and so I only talked about it with my friends.
I had a friend who encouraged me to seek help and supported me senior year of high school. She even walked with me to the counseling office to prevent me from backing out. I had already started self-harming by that point, and she knew what I was going through. I credit her with inspiring me to find an adult who could help me get better. After my first visit with the school psychologist, I told my mom about the visit. I’m really close to my mom and I tell her everything, but it was so hard to reveal such a vulnerable part of myself even to her. She was supportive, but initially confused about where it all came from. Dad finally was told after a couple therapy appointments, and he didn’t understand. I think he understands now, but for a while he would ask, “How long do you think you’ll need therapy or medication?” As if I knew. It’s not a broken bone or the flu, it’s an unpredictable chemical imbalance in the brain. The school psychologist gave me a list of professionals who accepted my family’s insurance plan. I called the first one on the list and we hit it off—she even brought her dogs to the office! She helped me through a lot of big stuff at the end of high school: fear of the unknown, fear of change, panic attacks, numbness, and dark thoughts.
I appreciate my friends a lot from high school. I’m still in touch with a few of them, especially that one friend who encouraged me to get help. They let me be myself, and we took care of each other. My extended family was less open-minded about it, I got some judgmental remarks when I first started talking about it. Things like “what do you have to be depressed about?” really set me back in terms of talking openly about my depression. For a while I was ashamed and self-conscious about it. Once I got to college and found a few solid friends, who I found out also had varying degrees of depression, I realized that I wasn’t alone in my struggles—people just tend to stay quiet about it for similar reasons. I found that friendship can sometimes be the strongest support system you can have. The hardest part of getting help is to push past your pride and vulnerability and admit that you cannot do it alone. I’ve had to do it three times so far and it doesn’t get much easier each time, but after seeking the help I need I am always glad I did.
The two best friends I have now are the strongest people I know. They’ve battled depression, suicide attempts, and rape and have been my strongest support away from home when I’ve had to deal with my own darkness involving depression. For the past two years I’ve had many days where it was so hard to get out of bed. Some days I didn’t, and last autumn my grades suffered because of it. In the end I bounced back and finished off strong, but my friends helped me get through it. It was last semester that I started experiencing repressed memories of a repetitive sexual assault by a friend that happened over the course of four months. It happened three years before, but I started remembering it when I ended the friendship with him. He was an emotionally abusive and traumatizing person, and I wanted out. When I admitted it to myself and to my best friend, who was also trying to get out of a romantic relationship with him, I knew it was finally time to talk about it to my counselor at my university. The more I was able to talk about it to the people within my circle of trust, the more I was able to work through it. First my two best friends and my counselor, then my boyfriend and my mom, all people who needed to know so I didn’t feel guilty about keeping such an awful secret hidden. I’ve never been suicidal, but it was hard for me to live past daily functions. I’ve found that the hardest thing for me to recognize is my own strength. I rely on others for my happiness and often don’t see how I can make myself happy. I have found that the easiest way to express myself is through my art. I relieve stress by painting or photographing whatever I want. I use it as healing; I even carry it with me permanently. Rather than dwell on the sadness my scars represent, I have instead acquired tattoos that remind me of the love and support I have in my life. My most recent tattoo, an infinity weaving around a heart on my wrist, reminds me that no matter how bad the depression gets I will always have someone who loves and supports me in my life—even if that person is mainly myself. My inner strength is just as important as the strength that others lend me, because a precarious house of cards is so much more fragile if the foundation is unstable.
My advice is to approach someone you’re close to with care. If you’re the one who is struggling, then find someone who you can talk to and discuss your problems with them to get it out. Journals or diaries are helpful because it allows you to purge and organize your thoughts, worries, and fears into a tangible place where you can reference from when you’re talking to someone you trust. From there, ask them to help you find help. Having that support helps drain some of the fear of vulnerability. If you’re the parent or loved one who knows someone who might be struggling with depression, don’t be surprised if they cannot come to you right away. The feelings are confusing, scary, sometimes irrational, and difficult to describe. While every parent wants their child to be able to come to them in a time of need, many seldom do because they feel afraid of judgment, lack of acceptance, or overreaction. Just let your child know that you are there for them if they need to talk and if they cannot come to you, make sure they do have someone to talk to. Have an open discussion with them about depression, suicide, and death. High school—even middle school—is not too young to talk about it. The earlier you can talk about it, the more likely you might be able to talk about it with them later if problems do arise.
For teachers and other community members: be open about your acceptance and interest in a student’s well being. Oftentimes when it becomes a slogan on a poster or a mantra, it comes off as robotic. As comforting as the message of individual care is supposed to sound, you have to show it. There were more than a handful of teachers who came off as people only there to give you information to pass a test, not as guides to help us along our journey to adulthood. The handful that did show they genuinely cared were the ones that stuck out in my mind because they improved my experience. A simple showing of interest in their lives may spark a conversation that could build trust.
Students: high school is nothing compared to the rest of the journey. Prom, the big game, getting asked out by the cute guy in math class. It all may seem big now, but two or three years from now no one is going to remember what dress you wore or who you went steady with for a week and a half. We want to grow up so fast that we put extra pressure on ourselves to seem older and more mature than what we have capacity to handle. We are stronger than we think, but why try to make things harder than they should be?
To school administrators and teachers: put less pressure on the tests and scores and try to cater to different types of learners. There were so many students at my university who did not know how to write a proper paper, grammar and more. The “five paragraph rule” is garbage, and about 80-90% of the students I came by didn’t know how to properly write in MLA format, let alone know about the existence of other formats. Hours of mindless homework add pressure onto students, so be mindful about that. From freshman year of high school to senior year of college I can’t tell you how many times I heard someone talking about how “Mr./Professor X gives me so much homework and thinks his class is so much more important than the others. Doesn’t he know I already have a ton of other stuff to do?” It’s not all about time management, I was doing all-nighters to finish assignments before I graduated high school.
I understand the feeling of worthlessness, lack of motivation, lack of interest, constant sadness, numbness. I’ve had friends who have weekly episodes of questioning whether it’s worth living until tomorrow. My plea for you to keep pushing through is not out of seemingly selfish concerns of “how do you think your death will impact everyone else?” but rather my hope is that someday you might realize that you are worth more than you give yourself credit for, and that you have so much potential to make the world a better place. You are important; it’s just hard to see it sometimes. I could preach and plead until I’m blue in the face, but the only one who can truly reach out for help is you. We will guide you and support you along your journey, but we cannot live your life for you. It’s always easier to see the mountain of bad memories looming over us, but life has so many beautiful moments; the moments we should live for. I still have fears of the unknown and I’m wary of the change that lies ahead, but the people I have met and grown close to have helped me understand my inner strength. It’s still hard to see sometimes, but I’m working on it.
You are not alone. Together we can be resilient. However, this website is not to be used in place of therapy or other forms of help. Non-judgmental help is available 24-7: Call Crisis Link at 1-800-273-TALK(8255). Text with a Crisis Text Line specialist, by texting “TALK” to 741-741. (You can also go to your nearest emergency room or call 911.)
You can also chat online with a specialist at CrisisChat.org (between 2pm and 2am) or ImAlive.org. Many other links to various types of assistance are also available on our RESOURCES page. Help is out there. Reach out, for yourself, or for someone else.
The hardest part of getting help is to push past your pride and vulnerability and admit that you cannot do it alone.
My main stresses and problems in high school involved grades and body image. The circle of friends I had consisted of people who had similar interests in music, art, etc. and we didn’t pressure each other to do things we didn’t want to. We didn’t do drugs, alcohol, or anything like that because we didn’t need it to have fun. My biggest struggle was maintaining my grades because I was a big procrastinator and I’d had problems with grades in the past. Mostly the pressure came from myself: the fear of disappointing my parents or failing a class. I felt alone because I didn’t want to talk about it with my parents. I didn’t think it was a big enough problem, and so I only talked about it with my friends.
I had a friend who encouraged me to seek help and supported me senior year of high school. She even walked with me to the counseling office to prevent me from backing out. I had already started self-harming by that point, and she knew what I was going through. I credit her with inspiring me to find an adult who could help me get better. After my first visit with the school psychologist, I told my mom about the visit. I’m really close to my mom and I tell her everything, but it was so hard to reveal such a vulnerable part of myself even to her. She was supportive, but initially confused about where it all came from. Dad finally was told after a couple therapy appointments, and he didn’t understand. I think he understands now, but for a while he would ask, “How long do you think you’ll need therapy or medication?” As if I knew. It’s not a broken bone or the flu, it’s an unpredictable chemical imbalance in the brain. The school psychologist gave me a list of professionals who accepted my family’s insurance plan. I called the first one on the list and we hit it off—she even brought her dogs to the office! She helped me through a lot of big stuff at the end of high school: fear of the unknown, fear of change, panic attacks, numbness, and dark thoughts.
I appreciate my friends a lot from high school. I’m still in touch with a few of them, especially that one friend who encouraged me to get help. They let me be myself, and we took care of each other. My extended family was less open-minded about it, I got some judgmental remarks when I first started talking about it. Things like “what do you have to be depressed about?” really set me back in terms of talking openly about my depression. For a while I was ashamed and self-conscious about it. Once I got to college and found a few solid friends, who I found out also had varying degrees of depression, I realized that I wasn’t alone in my struggles—people just tend to stay quiet about it for similar reasons. I found that friendship can sometimes be the strongest support system you can have. The hardest part of getting help is to push past your pride and vulnerability and admit that you cannot do it alone. I’ve had to do it three times so far and it doesn’t get much easier each time, but after seeking the help I need I am always glad I did.
The two best friends I have now are the strongest people I know. They’ve battled depression, suicide attempts, and rape and have been my strongest support away from home when I’ve had to deal with my own darkness involving depression. For the past two years I’ve had many days where it was so hard to get out of bed. Some days I didn’t, and last autumn my grades suffered because of it. In the end I bounced back and finished off strong, but my friends helped me get through it. It was last semester that I started experiencing repressed memories of a repetitive sexual assault by a friend that happened over the course of four months. It happened three years before, but I started remembering it when I ended the friendship with him. He was an emotionally abusive and traumatizing person, and I wanted out. When I admitted it to myself and to my best friend, who was also trying to get out of a romantic relationship with him, I knew it was finally time to talk about it to my counselor at my university. The more I was able to talk about it to the people within my circle of trust, the more I was able to work through it. First my two best friends and my counselor, then my boyfriend and my mom, all people who needed to know so I didn’t feel guilty about keeping such an awful secret hidden. I’ve never been suicidal, but it was hard for me to live past daily functions. I’ve found that the hardest thing for me to recognize is my own strength. I rely on others for my happiness and often don’t see how I can make myself happy. I have found that the easiest way to express myself is through my art. I relieve stress by painting or photographing whatever I want. I use it as healing; I even carry it with me permanently. Rather than dwell on the sadness my scars represent, I have instead acquired tattoos that remind me of the love and support I have in my life. My most recent tattoo, an infinity weaving around a heart on my wrist, reminds me that no matter how bad the depression gets I will always have someone who loves and supports me in my life—even if that person is mainly myself. My inner strength is just as important as the strength that others lend me, because a precarious house of cards is so much more fragile if the foundation is unstable.
My advice is to approach someone you’re close to with care. If you’re the one who is struggling, then find someone who you can talk to and discuss your problems with them to get it out. Journals or diaries are helpful because it allows you to purge and organize your thoughts, worries, and fears into a tangible place where you can reference from when you’re talking to someone you trust. From there, ask them to help you find help. Having that support helps drain some of the fear of vulnerability. If you’re the parent or loved one who knows someone who might be struggling with depression, don’t be surprised if they cannot come to you right away. The feelings are confusing, scary, sometimes irrational, and difficult to describe. While every parent wants their child to be able to come to them in a time of need, many seldom do because they feel afraid of judgment, lack of acceptance, or overreaction. Just let your child know that you are there for them if they need to talk and if they cannot come to you, make sure they do have someone to talk to. Have an open discussion with them about depression, suicide, and death. High school—even middle school—is not too young to talk about it. The earlier you can talk about it, the more likely you might be able to talk about it with them later if problems do arise.
For teachers and other community members: be open about your acceptance and interest in a student’s well being. Oftentimes when it becomes a slogan on a poster or a mantra, it comes off as robotic. As comforting as the message of individual care is supposed to sound, you have to show it. There were more than a handful of teachers who came off as people only there to give you information to pass a test, not as guides to help us along our journey to adulthood. The handful that did show they genuinely cared were the ones that stuck out in my mind because they improved my experience. A simple showing of interest in their lives may spark a conversation that could build trust.
Students: high school is nothing compared to the rest of the journey. Prom, the big game, getting asked out by the cute guy in math class. It all may seem big now, but two or three years from now no one is going to remember what dress you wore or who you went steady with for a week and a half. We want to grow up so fast that we put extra pressure on ourselves to seem older and more mature than what we have capacity to handle. We are stronger than we think, but why try to make things harder than they should be?
To school administrators and teachers: put less pressure on the tests and scores and try to cater to different types of learners. There were so many students at my university who did not know how to write a proper paper, grammar and more. The “five paragraph rule” is garbage, and about 80-90% of the students I came by didn’t know how to properly write in MLA format, let alone know about the existence of other formats. Hours of mindless homework add pressure onto students, so be mindful about that. From freshman year of high school to senior year of college I can’t tell you how many times I heard someone talking about how “Mr./Professor X gives me so much homework and thinks his class is so much more important than the others. Doesn’t he know I already have a ton of other stuff to do?” It’s not all about time management, I was doing all-nighters to finish assignments before I graduated high school.
I understand the feeling of worthlessness, lack of motivation, lack of interest, constant sadness, numbness. I’ve had friends who have weekly episodes of questioning whether it’s worth living until tomorrow. My plea for you to keep pushing through is not out of seemingly selfish concerns of “how do you think your death will impact everyone else?” but rather my hope is that someday you might realize that you are worth more than you give yourself credit for, and that you have so much potential to make the world a better place. You are important; it’s just hard to see it sometimes. I could preach and plead until I’m blue in the face, but the only one who can truly reach out for help is you. We will guide you and support you along your journey, but we cannot live your life for you. It’s always easier to see the mountain of bad memories looming over us, but life has so many beautiful moments; the moments we should live for. I still have fears of the unknown and I’m wary of the change that lies ahead, but the people I have met and grown close to have helped me understand my inner strength. It’s still hard to see sometimes, but I’m working on it.
You are not alone. Together we can be resilient. However, this website is not to be used in place of therapy or other forms of help. Non-judgmental help is available 24-7: Call Crisis Link at 1-800-273-TALK(8255). Text with a Crisis Text Line specialist, by texting “TALK” to 741-741. (You can also go to your nearest emergency room or call 911.)
You can also chat online with a specialist at CrisisChat.org (between 2pm and 2am) or ImAlive.org. Many other links to various types of assistance are also available on our RESOURCES page. Help is out there. Reach out, for yourself, or for someone else.
