I am someone who has lost people to suicide and almost lost my self too. I have always been told to suck it up until I spoke out about my abuse. I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. Ending the stigma is beyond important to me because if it wasn’t so hard for people to talk about, maybe my teammate, classmate, and grandmother would still be here. I know they were hurting, but I only knew when it was too late. Ending the stigma would save lives, the way speaking up saved me. I have been clean from self harm for almost a year now and have gotten the help I need. There is always hope, even when you feel as if it is the end. Your story isn’t over. I am living proof that it gets better. 

Suicide. It is the final action. 

The last moment, but it is not the cause of death. 

Stigma, silence, misdiagnosis, impulse, depression, the certainty that tomorrow is not meant to be, and the shame that tells you to say nothing, to hide instead of reaching out, that is what kills, and that is what we must work to prevent.

As we take time this week to acknowledge all we are thankful for, it is important to remember that depression doesn’t mean you’re not grateful for what you have or even that you are not happy. Depression  means that you are not healthy. And just like those you care so dearly about, you too are worth being healthy.

I have dealt with mental health most of my life. It started with lots of anger problems when I was young and was finally diagnosed with Major Depression and bipolar tendencies. I’ve been taking medication since 2012 and it’s helped me sooo much. I am a suicide survivor since 2017. I now advocate for mental health in order to end the stigma.

18 years ago I attempted suicide.  I know just mentioning the word makes people uncomfortable I get it, but I’m hopeful that by not being afraid to post about it the stigma can be reduced and I can offer anyone who may be in a dark place a ray of hope.

It was my first year of marriage and my first year of teaching and the expectations I placed on myself to excel at both were unrealistic, so in my mind I was failing. I had committed to teaching for four years to pay off a scholarship and felt like I was trapped. I sank further into depression and hopelessness. I knew things weren’t right and wanted to go to counseling, but just continued keep waking up each day in despair. Finally, in an attempt to change my situation I took a bottle of pills. I immediately regretted my choice, I’m not certain I ever really wanted to die, I just wanted the pain to stop. I woke my husband up and he rushed me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped.

Unfortunately the counsel I so desperately wanted ended up being more destructive as I was advised the bible, not anti depressants, was what I needed to overcome depression. I was told my issue was a sin and faith issue, not a chemical imbalance. So I didn’t get better, I started losing sleep and eventually became manic. 

By the grace of God and with the help of shock treatment I finally came back to myself and have never struggled with depression or mania again. I feel like a walking miracle and I try to live each day like someone who has been given a second chance at life because I have been.

Keep reading

Hello good people… I’m writing this as the last resort after a true hell of a year because, despite my and my family’s and therapists’ best efforts, the things have only got worse, and I have sunk into deep depression and almost completely lost hope and will to live, but am still very afraid to try suicide and still have a spark of hope that things could get better (but am afraid that I wouldn’t hold on if they got even worse)…To start with, I had a very interesting and active life, had a lot of ups and downs but was overall very satisfied with myself and healthy, always enthusiastic and full of energy and will to overcome challenges. Than in 2014. I had a crises, which began with stomach problems following a depression, it was really bad for a short time, but this depression quickly got better, and with time I felt better and better, and after that I had a very good year, I even managed to find a girlfriend. At the end of 2015.I got stomach problems again, this time more severe (hiatal hernia), and I fell into mild depression because of that and overthinking/confusion what I wanted to do with my life, but still I didn’t give up, I had great support of my girlfriend, friends and my parents and I could do some things that helped and soon things got better, and starting with summer I had probably the best time of my life, I improved myself and started fulfilling my potential, started having the life I was truly satisfied with and made progress in things I enjoyed doing, and was close to getting a job and moving away from my parents with my girlfriend…

Keep reading

We are more than our diagnosis. Our potential is only limited by allowing stigma and doubt to gain hold on us. Diagnosed at 16 I lived in denial for many years. I feared the stigma I saw towards my mother who suffers from schizoaffective bipolar experience. After 12 years and 4 suicide attempts I have learned that “I have bipolar disorder” not “I am bipolar.” I have learned that my episodes and symptoms are not character flaws or shortcomings. They simply are part of the course of a disease.  I would like all of you who experience the pain and devastation of depression that there is no guilt or shame or weakness only that your disease is flaring and you need treatment and the counsel of true friends.

Keep reading

I am 34 years old, a Navy Corpsman Veteran, and a lifelong sufferer of depression and suicide ideas. i am a survivor. I live at home with my wife and our 4 children, dog, and cat named Nuisance. my oldest son is high function autistic, and the evidence is mounting that i may be as well. Please enjoy this poem i wrote for submission to NAMI in the hope that you will know, well, that you are not alone.

IN THE LAND OF SANITY

I strode to the land of humans,

 through the mists of time and tide

I climbed to the place the sane people live

Through lands of the dead and blind

I walked to the edge of sanity

From the other side of fear

And I looked in the magic mirror

The people had placed over there.

Keep reading

Daddy,

My heart aches to much to forgive,
My eyes to swollen to forget,
It’s been years,
Seems like yesterday,
The pain so fresh,
The tears so near,
I can forgive but I will never forget.

Keep reading

As a surviving parent of a suicide victim it is more than obvious that further steps need to be taken to start turning this epidemic of shame surrounding mental health issues leading to suicide. I honestly never realized how much stigma, shame, and limitations there can be in regards to seeking help and the actual help that is offered. In a day an age where on the surface it may be become easy to avoid the bigger and more real issues that lead to a deeper and wider gap in what might be considered “acceptable”. The truth is that it is all acceptable. We can not change who and what people or not can we change chemical composition to change those facts biologically. What we can do is offer; open ears for really hearing, open eyes to see beyond the surface, open minds for understanding, open hearts for compassion and a short and simple three digit number to call for crisis intervention and resources. I can’t even imagine how many lives this would change in the future. It makes sense and is needed. I don’t know if this applies nation wide but in Oregon if we can call 911 for police, fire, and medical, a three digit number for road reports, another provides a resource directory, another to look up someone’s contact info and so on. Why not an easy access number for mental health crisis??? It’s just a shame non of us thought of this or proposed this as an idea much, much sooner. 

My name is Dan Experience, and I suffer from mental illness.

For the longest time, my depression and anxiety were a source of shame that I tried (successfully) to hide from everyone I knew and cared about. I have dealt with these issues for as long as I remember, and I firmly believed that I was just a broken person who couldn’t be fixed. What I’m going through is completely unique to me, so how could anyone possibly help?

My illness would prevent me from doing things. Going anywhere was always stressful because there was always a chance that I would have a panic attack. Some days my depression would make it so just getting out of bed in the morning seemed like a Herculean task. At the time, my understanding of depression was that it meant you were sad. Anxiety just meant you were nervous. This is how the world at large tends to view these disorders, so my problem was that I was just too weak to deal with things the way other people could, right?

Keep reading