It started off a really good week. I went to a concert, had been hanging out with my friends a lot, and was looking forward to a weekend with everyone in my pledge class for the fraternity we've been rushing all semester. Life was good...but things took a turn. It seemed as though my brain was "too happy for its own good" and started to plague my mind with negativity, sadness, anxiety, etc. What started as a great week turned into a "meh" week, and then came the anxiety attacks. I've had anxiety attacks before, but the ones that ensued would be the worse I would ever face.

The first one came while I was in one of my best friend's car. We were walking to her truck as I just spoke up slowing my pace, "I think I'm gonna start crying." Her pace slowed to mine as she asked, "Why are you gonna start crying?" There was a long pause as I was trying to think of why I felt like that. She asked again and I quickly said, "I don't know I just don't want to be myself right now like I wish I was anyone but me," and of course she tries to console me to no avail and I burst out in tears in her truck. It felt different though, it was just so much mental pain that I felt like the weight of the world was crushing. I was thinking of and analyzing everything at the same time.

My head was so loud, I just couldn't hold it all in anymore.

The next morning, I had to meet my pledge class in order to get ready for the picnic. You see, our final pledge project in order to be initiated was to set up a picnic for the Arizona foster association with food and activities for the kids and their adoptive families. We worked really hard on it and that was the time to put it all together and have some fun, at least everyone else had fun.

I, however, didn't eat a whole meal the entire day.

I mustered up a fake smile for the kids and the sake of my pledge friends and did what needed to be done. Afterward, we took pictures and had some fun by running around on the bounce houses and it was just supposed to be a great moment that signified the conclusion of all our hard work to get this done. Except me, I felt like crying again. It wasn't that I was so happy and proud of myself that I could cry, it was that I knew I should be happy and I wasn't.

When I got back, that's when I had the second anxiety attack. I started crying and trembling. My thoughts were all negative, that I was a terrible person, that I was weak, that I wasn't enough, that I should kill myself. I then got angry.

I started punching the walls until my knuckles bruised, and then started head-butting the wall until I got a headache.

Anything to take away the mental pain, even if that meant physical pain.

I went to bed hungry.

The next day I basically ate the entire day. A complete 180 from the day before. I got initiated with my pledge class into the fraternity and it was supposed to be a happy moment, but I still wasn't happy. I was just pretty quiet through it all and just felt like I didn't deserve to be there with everyone else. I didn't even feel like I was there mentally. I felt alone. I walked back to my dorm alone and sat there alone. I talked to my parents that night, like we always do on Sundays, and let them know about my situation.

It was April 1, and I went to class like normal. I've been dryly texting my parents throughout the day. Everything seemed just to be a shade of gray, like a rain cloud hovering above my head always throughout what should've been a nice, sunny day. I didn't want to be here anymore and I didn't want to be myself, so when my parents asked me that afternoon in a worried phone call if I was thinking of suicide, I said yes.

I did want to die at that moment.

I planned on going to the fifth-floor balcony and letting go. That's what I told the police when I showed up to my door since I couldn't tell my parents because they would flip out, which would've just made me feel worse. They drove me to a psychiatric ward in Mesa. I didn't know it when they were asking me questions I just wanted to get help.

I needed help.

Once I walked into the lit up, white hall of the emergency center, I knew that this was actually real. I was given scrubs to put on and was assigned to a recliner chair that sat in rows each person was assigned to. I asked the nurse there who was taking note of me what would happen. She said I would see one lady there who would get a statement from me about what was going on and what's happening in my life, then I would see a provider nurse who would tell me my options and then I would either be escorted to a hospital with my own room to stay for a week or more until deemed I was OK, or I would be discharged.

The 12 hours I was there was a living hell.

People were screaming and some tried fighting each other only for the nurses to break it up. It was almost like a prison. There were people like me, and then there were those who were the most disturbed individuals I've ever seen in my life. I saw one lady screaming that she was burning, I saw one man collapse and have an ambulance take him out as he woke up, but the scariest thing was the ones wandering around aimlessly muttering something to themselves wrapped in blankets, or ones laying or crawling on the floor. The nurses were so nice, they checked in with me throughout my visit there and made sure I was OK and I was thankful for that.

The 12 hours there really gave me time to think.

About life, my family, my friends, my future, and how far I've come. I was able to understand myself more. What I believe, what I think, what I stand for or more of what I live for. I saw the provider nurse and I was so happy when she told me she'd let me be discharged that night. A few moments later, a nurse woke me to sit by the door as they collected my things and paperwork. As I walked out of that room, a bald, bearded nurse who was about my height asked me what my plan was, and I told him I'm gonna go see counseling once I got back on campus and get the help I needed. I want to get better. He told me even he goes to therapy just to talk to someone, that everyone needs a bit of help sometimes. Then he sent me on my way.

As I walked out into the cold morning air, still dark as the sun just began to peak over the horizon, the only thing I knew was that...I can beat this. This is my moment. I'm turning over a new leaf of my life. I will start anew. I will rise.

I caught an Uber back to my dorm and struck up a little conversation with my Uber driver there. He was from Spain. He was a nice man. The morning was cool. My parents were driving to see me. Everything was going to be OK. It was 6 a.m. It started at 6 p.m. It had been 12 hours.

I saw my parents that later that day and I remember running to them and giving them a big hug as we all teared up. We went out to lunch and then to the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix.

It was a great day. I was happy.

I became the most popular man on campus after that. Everyone wanted to talk to me. University housing, student counseling, even the dean of students all wanted to speak with me. They cared about me.

For any of you dealing with mental health issues or illnesses please reach out. Talk to someone and ask a professional what your options are. Mental health is extremely serious in this day and age. If you're feeling down and out right now just remember, the sun will come out tomorrow morning and everything will be OK. You'll be OK.

If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline — 1-800-273-8255