TW: loss, suicide
The most peculiar aspect of mental illness is the idea that you have to hide it. It is one of the most debilitating illnesses you can suffer from and the whole world lives in an existing facade that mental illness doesn’t exist.
Unfortunately, it is difficult to join the facade when you know someone who suffers from a mental illness. Hard to join the facade when you watch them delve deeper into an abyss of their own thoughts, feelings and emotions and all you can do is watch them deteriorate. You would try to cheer them up, create plans with them, include them, make sure they know that they are wanted but mental illnesses create a solitary battlefield where there are no entry points for outsiders.
In my sophomore year, my friend attempted suicide. I knew he had issues but I had been living in the same grey facade that the rest of the world comfortably enjoys, a facade where mental illnesses don’t exist, where work is the new religion and where you can always do more. A world where dealing with your demons means that you’re weak and essentially worthless. I knew he wasn’t alright but I didn’t do anything when I saw him blackout constantly at parties, I didn’t do anything when he’d mention all the pills he took, I didn’t even say anything when he mentioned therapy. Why would I? Surely he had it under control.
The facade broke when he called me early one morning and asked me to call the police to his place. I don’t know how I knew what was about to happen but I knew. I stayed up trying to keep him busy, we cried and struggled all morning. I had joined his fight. The continuous struggle of helping him fight his battle had an unimaginable toll. His depression slowly chipped away at both of us. His struggles had nothing to do with me but they weighed me down nonetheless. Every night he would thank me and every morning he’d regret waking up.
Pushing myself to the point of exhaustion to help him and only seeing him drift further made me second-guess my worth as a friend, maybe if he had someone better he would already be better- maybe if he had better friends he wouldn’t even be feeling this way. Maybe if I was better I could have helped him?
In trying to keep someone alive, you must think of all the reasons why life is worth living. I had to hone in on all positive aspects of my life in order to stay floating. I relied on my mother and my friends to be my backbone and through their help I managed to rebuild myself. I aged quicker in comparison to my classmates I saw the world for what it was between the public service announcements, the obligatory assembly on mental health and the bored expressions on the other students. I saw the deep impact my friend’s death had on the other students from the perplexed expression of “who was this again?” etched on several faces. I also saw those who loved him echo my feelings and emotions.
Taking the burden of someone else’s problems showed me what it feels like to learn from pain and helplessness, but picking myself back up and growing has shown me that I am capable. This battle took a toll on me but through this I learned to endure. I learned my limitations and I learned my abilities. I learned how to be honest with myself and the people around me. Through him I learned to live.
By Sara Hijer.
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