Hello Nurds,
This week, I'm going to be talking about something pretty serious and personal to me. I was going to do Part II of the HOW I GOT INTO UCLA this week until I realized that there was something more urgent I felt I should disclose to you.
TRIGGER WARNING
5 Years ago this past Thursday, I attempted suicide for the last time. I had thought about killing myself throughout several months of my attempts and I was finally over life. It seemed that there was no possibility of things ever getting better.
Where do I start?
Well, I wanted to kill myself on my 14th birthday, but when things became abundantly clear that I did not want to even have another birthday and celebrate another year of hopeless life, I decided I wanted to get the job done before my birthday.
My suicidal thoughts were not concealed from my peers. Luckily, they knew because if it were not for them, I probably would not be alive today. It is because someone told the school administration what I was going to do to myself that I was restrained from harming myself.
At the time, I was mad at whoever told the administration. Now, I'm grateful for the anonymous person, whoever he or she was. I remained in the front office after school hours and had a profound conversation with my band instructor, who sedated me from my anger. I am too grateful for this interaction between the two of us. My parents arrived, concerned, as I might imagine. How could their youngest child ever do this?At the time, I thought, Great, I'm giving them another burden, another thing to worry about. Jesus Christ, if I were dead, then I'd stop being such a disappointment to them.
Several hours later, after police arrived, I was discharged to a hospital in Alhambra, I believe. Alhambra was probably the furthest I had been from my family at the time; this would be my last adventure, I thought. I mean, seriously, how often do you ride in a police car without the possibility of getting incarcerated?
Anyways, my parents followed suit, my sister (who was in nursing school at the time, and thus, did not have time to be distracted from her studies) eventually came while my other siblings stayed home (as it was a school night) and there were several silent exchanges between my family and me. They told me to be honest with the investigators, nurses, etc.
The fact of the matter was, I didn't want to see my parents anymore. Ugh, parents. Who needs 'em? Well, I did. Although I probably would not have wanted to admit that, I needed my parents. They fostered most of my best memories. They were always there for me and raised me and to kill myself would beyond slap away the hands that nurtured me.
I don't claim to know what the "afterlife" is like, but I just know that if I had killed myself, there'd be a lot of lingering guilt. A part of me knew that my parents and siblings would not recover just as I know that if I somehow die right now or in the near future, they will experience a lot of anguish, turmoil, depression, and maybe anger.
I went to a mental hospital and was obviously in the pediatric ward. It was fun and free. It didn't go without its limitations, obviously, but I had fun. I met an adolescent, now young gay man for the first time (not including my brother) and many people with very complex, technicolor issues that I was only beginning to understand more and more. In other words, I met people who do hardcore drugs for the first time, the second time of which was several weeks ago when I started at UCLA. I guess you can tell that I don't do drugs. Anyways, at the heart of this community, I was among people around my age, people of different backgrounds, people with different and immature quirks. People who almost snapped and reached the borderline, like me.
I actually did celebrate my birthday (yes, at the hospital), but it took several years to begin to appreciate birthdays and even New Years again. I was still unhappy but all I was thinking about at the time was making it in time for drumline practice Friday afternoon. I eventually went and bragged about my experience as if there was anything to brag about.
Now that I think about it, the hospital food was 5 STARS!!!! And the movie-watching privileges were great! So many options. It was like I was on vacation from school during the school year. This is just a side-note. Carry on!
There is so much I would not have experienced, so many ups and downs (and realistically, more ups than downs than I could probably give credit for), so many people I would not have met, and yeah, a lot of disappointed. Admittedly, I'm still depressed, but thankfully, I am not suicidal. I have dreams to strive for, but I'm just not where I want to be in life, not even close, as if getting what I want validates any happiness I will feel. There remains so much disappointment I harbor and cage in something as reflective of a Golgi apparatus that stores and ships all of my emotions and feelings outward.
We look at other people and see their successes, but we don't consider what these people see in themselves, because, well, we can't. We don't know what these people are insecure about themselves or what they like and hate about themselves because these qualities, these questions we don't and shouldn't consider are non-visible, intangible, introspective. I put a smile on and gave several jolly laughs and was still suicidal. No one could have suspected me of being depressed unless they saw me on the inside or even just witnessed my interactions with my family. I was miserable; a part of me still is. But now I can distinguish between the misery then and now and I got to be honest, it was unbearably crushing. Now, it's manageable; some good days compensate for those that are less than fulfilling.
To this day, my family still does not know all the reasons of why I was suicidal. Yes, many reasons had to do with my rapidly changing views of what it was going to mean for me to be publicly transgender and transgender in general. I will not share all of those reasons with you either as they are personal and I do not want to revisit the eating disorder, the idea of growing up male when I felt female, and the idea of not being a kid anymore. I will also not disclose how I tried killing myself. Please respect this.
To think that there was a time when I was at my absolute lowest is unimaginable now when there's so much to live for, so much I've wanted to experienced, so much I will experience. Then, I didn't have any goals in life, nothing long-term. Now, I have so many goals in life that it's all so overwhelming! Five years later, and I'm happier, more fulfilled, and excited for the future! Five years later and I want to celebrate life more. Five years, half a decade. That was only a fraction of my life. I will not be able to express how much I would have missed it that was only a fraction of my life ago.
My advice: find the resources you need to get help. Please call the Trevor hotline at (866) 488-7386 or text "Trevor" at (202) 304-1200 or simply visit The Trevor Project, reach out to your school counselors, get therapy, and please, Please, PLEASE call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255; it's an anonymous, 24/7 phone line that will get you the help that you need.
To finish this off, my roommate showed me this song regarding suicide. It's very empowering and hopefully, you find your outlet, your hope through it.