By: Heather Hatlo Porter, Chief Communications Officer at Chegg
The following content could contain information that may be triggering for some individuals. If you are in urgent need of mental health support, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800–273–8255.
10,145 days and counting. That is how many more days of life I have because of access to mental health treatment. That is how many more days of life I have because someone saw the signs and said something. That is how many more days of life I have because when I tried to commit suicide, at 14 years old, I was able to get help. Help that ultimately saved my life.
If you look at me on paper, you might think I have it all together. That I always knew what I wanted and how to get it. That my path has been smooth and up and to the right. After all, I’m an executive at Chegg, a successful Silicon Valley technology company. I have a strong marriage, an incredibly supportive husband, and two amazing children. We live in a nice home in a great neighborhood, and we even have the perfect dog. (I know I’m biased, but really, our dog is amazing.)
So, to know that it all could have ended my freshman year of high school may come as a shock for many people who know me now.
In eighth grade, I started getting sick. My symptoms all presented as physical ailments, and we spent months running tests, seeing specialists, and trying various medications to understand exactly what was wrong. I was misdiagnosed repeatedly and felt frustrated and lost in a sea of uncertainty. My mother was relentless about finding answers. Why the constant stomach aches and change of appetite? Why the erratic behavior and the withdrawal from things I once loved? Why wouldn’t I even attend school? Finally, after about 8 months of this merry-go-round of doctors, someone suggested that I could be dealing with a mental health issue and recommended that I see a psychologist. Of course, I resisted. I can assure you that, as a kid in the early nineties, when the topic of mental health seemed even more taboo than it does today, I wasn’t even okay with the mere suggestion that something was “wrong” with me. I refused help and got sicker. Things began to spiral out of control. I went to a very dark place. Finally, tired of the struggle, I gave up and tried to call it quits.
Thankfully, my mother was there. I was admitted to the hospital and placed in the juvenile psychiatric wing on suicide watch. And while I would love to say I was so grateful that I was able to get help, in that moment, I was furious with my family. How could they abandon me? Why did they leave me in that place? I felt the weight of an ingrained stigma pressing down on me. It was suffocating. I swore I would never speak to my family again. That this was the end.
Luckily, I was in a safe space, surrounded by mental health professionals, doctors, nurses, and counselors who dedicated their lives to saving others. I was finally diagnosed with clinical depression and began the process of healing and unpacking years of pain, anxiety, fears, and bottled up emotions. In the hospital, under the care of experts, I learned tools, skills, and coping mechanisms that would last me a lifetime.
Why do I share this? Well, for one, because it scares the hell out of me to do so. I think we often have to push ourselves out of our comfort zone to affect change. For too long I have avoided this conversation, and honestly, I don’t know why. I am proud of what I have overcome. I am an advocate for mental health support. I have tried to be a support system for anyone I knew was struggling with depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts. I have been vocal about ending the stigma…right up until the point I had to say something about my own struggles. And then I would go quiet.
But I can’t be quiet anymore because I know I am not alone and that my story is like so many stories. Too many, in fact. Today’s COVID-19 epidemic is a reminder that we need to pay attention to global mental health. People are anxious. People are concerned. People are scared. People are lonely. Many describe being thrust into a depression due to their current circumstances, and one of the most vulnerable demographics that has been hit the hardest during this time is our student population.
While our current pandemic has exacerbated the problem, it’s certainly not new. Even before the outbreak, our 2019 Chegg.org State of the Student report showed that over half of all students cited mental health as their top concern on campus due to financial concerns and academic pressure. Now, 80% of college students report that the coronavirus has negatively impacted their mental health, and 85% say that focusing on school and work has been the most difficult thing about facing this pandemic.
In our latest Chegg.org State of the Student report on mental health, we partnered with the Ad Council’s Seize the Awkward, The Jed Foundation, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, and Lady Gaga’s Born This Way Foundation, to spotlight how students are coping and where they are getting help. While the CDC recently reported that a quarter of young adults contemplated suicide during the pandemic, our data shows that 5% of both college and high school students say they made a suicide attempt themselves during the pandemic — with Black students reporting slightly higher than average.
The good news? The data also shows that 77% of students who utilized their mental health resources on campus found it helpful, and 72% of students who had friends reach out felt more hopeful or supported. The same way my mom was there for me, reaching out to those who may be hurting is crucial and cannot be overstated. We must engage in this conversation to destigmatize mental health issues, but we must also support partners and NGO’s working to provide mental health resources to those who need it most, like the organizations who helped us discover this data.
While this is an important step for Chegg, and one driven by research and data, it’s also personal. In addition to my own story, I’ve lost friends and relatives to suicide over the last three decades. It breaks my heart every single time I get the news. Someone I love, someone I care about, or someone else who is close to someone I love and care about, is no longer with us. It is devastating to me that someone didn’t reach out, or that they felt like there were no other options. If my story had ended differently, it would have been my family left heartbroken. My sons wouldn’t be here. I think about that every time I see them smile, or even when they cry for that matter. Their lives are a gift, and so is mine.
My story didn’t end when I decided to end my life. My journey towards mental health didn’t end in the hospital either. After three weeks, I was able to go home just a few days before Christmas that year, and I walked out of the hospital with the greatest gift of all — a second chance. Over time, I realized that mental wellness is a lifelong journey. My life would continue to be filled with ups and downs, and I would need to accept myself and learn to embrace life rather than retreat from it.
To this day, I am so deeply grateful, not only to my mother, who admitted me to the hospital that day, but also to the incredible mental health professionals who worked with me. Frank and Dan, I still remember your names to this day because, quite literally, you saved my life.
This is only a snapshot of my journey. So much had transpired to get me to that place of pain and depression, and so much would follow in the tumultuous teen years ahead. Being hospitalized was an interim moment on the roller coaster of life. And that’s the point. These moments of pain, isolation, fear, and doubt that we all find ourselves in are just moments — moments that will pass.
I finally decided to share my story so I could say: just hold on. You are not alone. At some point, we all need help. All of us. No matter what stage of life we are in, no matter what our circumstances, life impacts us all in different ways, and we need one another to get through the darkness. Whether it’s the shoulder of a caring friend or family member, or the countless number of organizations focused on supporting people in crisis, there are mental health professionals, globally, who can help.
I encourage you to reach out to someone if you feel alone, anxious, depressed, or suicidal, because it’s not the end. If I hadn’t gotten help the moment I needed it so many years ago, I would have lost the last 10,145 days and all the joy, love, laughter, dreams, and life that came with them. I promise you, it’s worth holding on for all that is yet to come. It does get better.
If you are in a crisis, talk with someone. Check in on your family and friends. Reach out to your neighbors. Take a moment to share a simple act of kindness with a stranger. In so many ways, people feel deeply isolated right now, but the truth is — we are all in this together, and we have each other. I see you. And you matter. Here’s to all the days ahead.
