Words hold a lot of weight. They can convey love and build trust. On the other hand, they also have the potential to break down the ties between family and friends. Mental illness is something you cannot always see from the outside, so words are the most powerful weapon available. Unfortunately, in many cultures, the subject is taboo. As a result, the conversation is often left cut off.
Toward the end of my freshman year of college, I found myself in a friendship with an individual who had been struggling for a while with their mental health but did not want to grapple with it. They expressed to me that their parents did not believe in mental illness due to their upbringing. As a result, their parent placed the blame on the usual stress that comes with college, and any sense hope for help was lost.
It was difficult because I would see them on these highs where they were overrun with energy, but a few days later, it seemed as though a switch would flip. Their eyes would avert contact as they walked past our friend group. I could see that they were suffering, but I did not know how to help. They would spend days at a time hiding away in their room between classes, but later in the week, they would go back to their usual, boisterous self. We all initially became concerned, but their periods of happiness and strength gave us false hope in their situation. As a result, we avoided digging further into what was going on.
This went on for the entirety of freshman year. Personally, seeing them in so much pain started to take a toll on me. Something serious was going on, so I decided to start checking in on how they were doing day to day. At first, they were quite cautious when talking to me about their mental health. They would often deflect the subject as soon as I mentioned it, but I always made sure that I genuinely conveyed my support for them. I decided to contact the University about their situation, but the officials just said they would "keep an eye on them".
The next school year, they moved to a different dorm, but I had this need to keep checking in on how they were doing. After a few months, we had weaved a web of trust. Then I got a phone call that shook me to my core. It was about nine o'clock, and I was just finishing up with an event that I was putting on for my residence hall. In over a year of our friendship, we had mostly corresponded in person or over text, so I knew something was wrong.
They just about managed to get out the words "I don't think I can do this for much longer". Their voice was wrought with shame and fear. I then asked if they had any plans of harming themself, and they wouldn't confirm nor deny. I felt trapped. This was well out of my scope. I kept them on the phone to make sure they were okay, and they said that they wanted to seek help. I managed to find a clinic a few miles from campus that specialized in crises and helped them get there. I wrote down a list of questions to ask the doctor in hopes of making the situation more tolerable. After a few hours, they were finally able to get the help and validation that they needed. Today, like many of us, they are living on the path to recovery. It's tough, but there is hope in every day.
Take some time today to show support to your friends and family. Check in on them, and see how they are doing. We often take on a lens of looking only at our own struggles while those around us are also enduring their own battles every day. It is so easy to dismiss the concerns of others because it's difficult to understand what they are going through truly. The best thing you can do is offer validation and support. Take the step to start the conversation with those around you when others will not. It may not mean a lot to you in the moment, but it may mean the world to someone else.
Crisis Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
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