The grey skies and dark clouds blanketed the skies throughout the unusually wet October weekend. The local meteorologists had issued potential flood warnings ahead of the seasonal tropical weather pattern. Any bit of precipitation is a blessing for the perpetually parched Californian earth.
It was a Sunday evening; I looked forward to ending the weekend on a high note by taking up a friend on an offer to go out for food. Now, under normal circumstances, I would play the "broke college student" card in order to weasel my way out of a potentially nerve-wracking social experience. However, this was an old friend and I felt that I could muster up enough energy to be excited to catch each other up on our lives. The meal was great and the conversation very stimulating, and I left the campus cafeteria feeling particularly refreshed-- a rarity for an introvert like myself. This feeling stayed with me all night until I received a text from my friend, informing me that an unknown person had just taken their own life on campus.
Shocked, confused, worried, and most of all, anxious, I immediately opened Facebook so I could piece together any new information. Despite the gravity of the incident, I was unable to find out much of anything and thus called it a night. Waking up that morning was a particular struggle-- between my initial mood and the racing thoughts that kept me awake most of the night, I was in little condition to attend class. Despite the initial slow-up, after some coffee and a cold shower, I felt OK enough to attend class.
Entering the campus, the air felt thick and heavy, despite the cold mist that fogged and spritzed its grassy open lawns. I wondered if I would see any memorials already in place, or perhaps a gathering of students. Instead, I encountered nothing out of the ordinary as I made my way to class.
"Well, maybe the professor will mention something during the lecture," I hoped. Seconds turned into minutes, but no one said a word.
Before I knew it, a blank quiz sheet was placed in front of me, politely but sternly reminding me of the assessment for which I had not prepared in the slightest. Glossing over it, I recognized some of the problems and began to tackle what I thought I knew. Or at least, I began to, before a felt the air being sucked out of my lungs.
My hands and mouth were dry and I could barely swallow. Sweat beaded my brow as my heart rate quickened and my breathing grew shallow. Soon the rush spread down my chest to my gut, as it instinctively contracted, forming a sharp and unrelenting tightness that gnawed at my core. Like a shaken soda can, I could feel the tension building inside of me, begging to be released in the form of a scream or a punch or kick or something explosive enough to let everything out in one big bang.
Looking down at my quiz, the text was no longer a legible line, but rather a fuzzy incoherent stream of letters. My eyes couldn't even focus on one spot long enough to concentrate. For 10 minutes I sat there, sweaty, unfocused, and bouncing my leg around like a hyperactive child. Finally, I gave up. I couldn't even force myself to think straight. With an air of defeat, I informed my professor that I would attempt to make-up the quiz another day and proceeded to excuse myself from class.
I could not race home quickly enough as the rainfall picked up once again. The whirring of my bike's wheels and the honks of passing cars all blended together like some ugly muffled mass of white noise. It was as if my senses were being overloaded by sight and sound and my only sanctuary was the 4 walls of my tiny studio apartment. Unlocking the door and then slamming it shut behind me, drawing my blinds before finally flopping into bed, I felt drained from struggling to contain the intense emotions and racing thoughts in my head.
For someone living with anxiety or depression, sleep is sometimes the only reprieve from the constant weight that is mental illness. And in that moment, a break from the noise was my only wish. This is the story of how I have, and continue to, cope with my mental health issues. I hope that by sharing my story, someone in a similar situation can recognize the signs of mental fatigue and illness, and take action in their own lives.
If you are struggling with your mental health or have been thinking about harming yourself or making an attempt on your life, please call the toll-free National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255, because you matter.
