My Battle with Suicide
This past year many of us have had to deal with a suicide of
someone we knew. The irreversible pain that it causes is simply devastating. I
have decided to open up and tell my story dealing with depression/anxiety and
nearly suicide. This story embarrasses me greatly, but I have decided to face
it and tell the truth. I assume that this story will surprise most of you
because I have hidden it very well. Most assume that I am a happy guy the
majority of the time. My hope is that this story will bring a level of
understanding to all of you and just maybe this could prevent another suicide.
Many of you will disagree with me, but I hope that you will at least show
respect.
The last 5 years I have battled anxiety and depression, with the last
3 years being incredibly difficult. I have on two occasions come close to
ending my life and had it not been for the incredible support from family and
friends, I would have. Now, here is the difficult part for me to understand. I
have a good life and there is nothing in my past that would lead you to believe
that I am depressed. I grew up in a very loving, middle class family; I have
some of the best friends around; never have I had a substance abuse problem;
and I never had trouble being social-Lord knows that. This, however, shouldn’t
shock you. I guarantee all of you have a friend that is hiding
depression/anxiety. It could be caused by a number of things, but it’s there.
My first year of college was the first time that my anxiety
became difficult to conceal. There were days that I didn’t go to school because
I was freaking out. That September, I became terrified to go to bed. I knew
that there was a good chance that I would wake up in the middle of the night
panicking. Most of those nights I would wake up sweating, nauseous, anxious, my
heartbeat was a million beats per minute and I was convinced I was crazy. I
felt so weak and for the first time in years I couldn’t help but cry.
I want you to notice something here, the anxiety hit before I
attached a meaning to it. It wasn’t like I started worrying and than began to
freak out over it; rather I freaked out and then found something to be worried
about. I constantly worried about things that, honestly, were pretty
ridiculous. I worried about my family and friends dying, I became convinced
that I was going to die in a car accident (still am), I worried that nobody
cared, and would even overanalyze everything people said just to make sure that
I wasn’t missing something. There were two fears that I had about exposing my
panic attacks, 1) People would think that I was weak or 2) People would think
that I was crazy.
This went on for months before I finally broke. Going on little
rest and high stress wore me down quickly. I finally told my parents, but I refused
to go to the doctor. I didn’t want to be thought of as crazy and I sure as hell
didn’t need somebody to talk about my problems. What would I tell him, “Well my
family is great, school is good, friends are good, and yeah still not using any
drugs?” Seemed to me like it was an absolute waste of time. My parents soon
forced me to see a counselor, one that was not very sympathetic. He basically
said, “Yeah it’s probably a little anxiety, but that’s to be expected at
college.” Now that is not what I needed to hear; I was already worried about
being seen as weak and here was a professional telling me to suck it up.
After a few more months of struggling, I finally went to the
doctor and got put on some medicine. The medicine stopped the panic attacks,
but it still didn’t bring me back to normal. Though the anxiety persisted, I
always found a way to hide it and keep pushing foreword.
It wasn’t until this year that I finally broke down again. Same
anxiety attacks, but this time I felt an incredible depression. It was
unbearable and I can’t even describe to you how painful it was. I was a
prisoner in my own body and yet again felt like I was loosing my mind.
Honestly, if I could have traded it for physical pain I would have. It got so
bad that I lost all hope of ever being “normal.” The depression and anxiety
never went away, but sometimes faded to the background. I was floored again and
unable to be productive. One night, out of the blue I decided the only way out
was death. It wasn’t that I wanted to hurt the people around me, but I just
wanted the pain to stop. At this point I will lose most of you reading. You
will think how selfish Zach must be, after all didn’t he know how much he would
hurt his friends and family? The answer to that question is a yes and no. At
that moment, I didn’t think of anything but stopping the pain. I was in sort of
a haze, which is hard to describe. I don’t really remember the night very well,
but I remember moving my car into the garage and deciding the next morning I
was going to wait until everybody left and then start the engine. The next
morning when I came to, my friends and family were there. Apparently, I had
called my uncle and he had warned everybody. They took me to the doctor and I
decided to get some serious help. I started seeing a psychiatrist and a
psychologist, who worked on the medication and different coping methods.
Today, I am still fighting depression and anxiety. It has gotten
much better though and I can go weeks without attacks from either. Then some
weeks I get hit hard again and have to keep fighting. I still worry about what
people think about me and I still sometimes think that I am crazy. Fight those
thoughts though and get help.
Things I want you to take away
1) Getting
help is not weak, it’s responsible. I still wrestle with this problem, but
remember if you need help then get it.
2) Finding
a counselor can be tough, but don’t stop looking until you find one that works.
3) It
will get better and never lose hope
4) Lean
on family and friends that you trust for a while.
5) Depression
and anxiety are usually a physical problem and so remember to get the
medication you need. It’s no different than getting help for a broken leg.
6) You
are valuable and make sure that you just fight like crazy for that day.
7) If
your not suffering, make sure you are paying attention to your friends and
making sure that they know you care.
I am not a counselor and I am not a psychologist. Nor, do I
intend on taking their place. I will be here though if you ever need to talk. I
will help you fight this because I know how tough it is. I also know that most
people will not understand.
Let us create a community that overcomes the stigma of mental
illness and suicide, so that we might be able to stop it before it occurs.
My email is zparks@unm.edu. Please don’t hesitate to email me.
