The Suffocating Silence over Mental Health
CW: Suicide and Mental Health
When people get physically sick or something feels physically wrong, they usually tell someone and get help. Take asthma, for example. There is no taboo that prevents you from getting help because you’re unable to breathe. There is no shame in getting a prescription for an inhaler to prevent suffocation. However, when the sickness is not physical, but mental, why do we feel that we have to be silent? The stigma hovering over mental illness keeps people from receiving a lifeline that relieves their suffering. Mental illness is particularly heavy and dark when you feel that you have to live in silence.
When I was just five-years old, my father took his life. I remember my mom screaming and crying as she received the news from my uncle, begging him to say that my dad was going to be ok. At five-years old I learned and was taught a new word: suicide. It was utter trauma. For that whole year, I kept my ears covered so I wouldn’t keep reliving the wailing cries of death. I didn’t dare mention my dad because I couldn’t bear the feeling of my heart dropping to my stomach. It made it too hard to breathe every time I heard the sounds of my mom cry. It felt safer to keep my emotions bottled up. And it’s not exactly the conversation you can have with your five-year old friends while you’re playing princess. I was too young to understand that my feelings wouldn’t go away just because I didn’t talk about them.
In eighth grade, I completely shut down. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I missed many days of school, faking illnesses because I did not want to get out of bed. I no longer felt motivation to do anything. Couldn’t everyone see how angry and sad I was on the inside? I thought my pain was obvious, but no one really knew. The longer I stayed silent, the more I fell into a deep hole of depression. Everything became darker until I felt numb.
That summer, I went back to sleep-away camp. I had gone there since I was nine, and it was my favorite place in the world. All of eighth grade, I struggled to keep my head above water, but going to camp was my breath of fresh air. The forty girls in my age group felt like family. One day, we all sat around in a circle, and for the first time I opened up. I told my friends about the depression that consumed my whole year. And once I opened up, others did too. Even if they hadn’t dealt with depression, and to my surprise some had, they all had something difficult they wanted to share — that they needed to share. Then, we went on to talk about the counselors we wanted to marry. It was a day filled with tears and laughter. Sharing stories with each other and being completely vulnerable left us with a sense of security and relief. I was no longer silent. We were no longer alone. They were my inhaler.
In those moments, we all learned not to be afraid to let others in. Contrary to what I had previously thought, being strong does not mean struggling alone. It means having the strength to express your vulnerability. It feels so hard to ask for help, but it’s even tougher to be isolated in your pain. If you stay silent, it will only get harder. Just like many physical illnesses, mental illnesses are treatable. Help exists, whether it’s through medication or therapy. Hundreds of millions of people worldwide face mental illness. You read that right. You are not alone.
Everyone has something they deal with in life. Everyone deserves to get help whether it’s physical or mental. We need to break the stigma that makes others feel shame for getting treatment. No one should suffer in silence.
This is why PERIOD wants to strengthen a support network, where you are not alone. We want to foster an environment where people can share their stories and be vulnerable in a safe space. If you are reading this and you are inspired to share your story, join PERIOD to advocate for mental health and break the barriers that keep us in silence.
If you or someone you know needs help please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1–800–273-TALK(8255).
