It was 1:12 pm on October 10th when I saw the hashtag #worldmentalhealthday for the first time. “Share your old content about mental health.” I realized that I had written a lot about mental health, in my short time, for the Odyssey. I had written The Morning After I Killed Myself, Center Stage and many more. What I haven’t done… is tell my story. It isn’t sad, or scary, or happy. It’s just a story and one I’d finally like to share.

I will never forget the first time that the thought of "I want to kill myself" popped into my head. I was 14, dealing with severe and unimaginable amounts of bullying. I had lost the one person I trusted most with my life because of silly rumors. I thought that if someone could hurt me that much, that I needed to hurt myself. Luckily, before I hit send on the “goodbye” letters to people who I considered my ex-friends, my phone rang. It was one of my “ex-friends” begging me to re-enter her life.

I put the thought to the side.

It was only 6 months later that I thought of it for the second time. This time I didn’t stop. I hit send on those notes and phone calls began flooding in to my parents. “Do you know where Katie is?” “Can you check and make sure she’s okay?” “What’s going on with her lately?” The door burst open to my room and I felt the anger I was using to fuel my desire wither to tears.

I put the thought to the side.

Finally, it was the last month of my sophomore year of high school. I had developed this group of friends who finally accepted me, my quirks and my passions. It felt like I finally had a reason to delete the thought, rather than put it to the side. Then, it all came crumbling down. I had come in contact with a boy that a friend had liked. I started hearing comments like “no one wants you here,” “the world would be better off without you,” “why don’t you just go kill yourself?”

This is the first time I tried.

Thankfully, it was half hearted. In the words of my therapist, I didn’t want to die so I only half tried in the hopes that someone would finally realize what was happening to me. And finally, people did.

This is when I transfered schools.

I was hopeful that the thoughts would end and, for a while, they did. I made a strong group of friends. They were my rocks, they made sure I was hanging out with them instead of being alone, they allowed me into their world.

I was 16 when the thought first came with no reason. I was working on an assignment for English class and, all of a sudden, I had this tick to pick up the scissors behind me. It was weird, nothing had happened. No trigger to bring about these thoughts. I called my best friend. I told him about these thoughts. I cried a lot, wondering why they would come when things were finally working out.

This is when 5 people, who loved me profusely, showed up at my house.

We sat for hours talking about these thoughts, why I thought they were coming, who I thought brought them on and events that many have “triggered” these actions. Our conclusion was this: I didn’t have a reason anymore.

I was 16 years old when I was diagnosed with histrionic personality disorder. This disorder is defined as, “A person with histrionic personality disorder seeks attention, talks dramatically with strong opinions, is easily influenced, has rapidly changing emotions and thinks relationships are closer than they are.”

I had to re-learn a lot. I had to learn what friendship actually portrayed itself as. I questioned a lot about my past, now knowing this new fact about myself. Throughout this difficult time, I had to question who I was a lot.

What I didn’t question was those 5 people. I never once questioned that I had “histronic-afied” my friends, who came running when I called.

So I am telling this story, not to explain myself, not to get empathy from you, not to fit into this mental health theme… But to thank them.

Thank you for being there, when I felt like no one else was…

Thank you for being understanding, when I couldn’t understand myself…

Thank you for holding me up, when all I wanted to do was fall down...

It is because of you that in three short months I will have the opportunity and the privilege to walk across Miami University’s stage and scream "I did it".

I have learned love… because of all of you.