Content warning: This article discusses suicide.

Sharing a moment like this with our society having a huge stigma around mental health is far from easy and incredibly scary, but I feel it's time to change that.

Thursday, October 17, 2019, was the night I tried to take my own life.

I have been struggling with my mental health for many years now, but I bet you didn't know that. If you know me, you know no matter what I almost always have a smile on my face. I am always laughing and I am always posting on my social media the highlights of my day. I maintain a good GPA, I stay involved in clubs and organizations on campus, I have a part-time job, and I am the girl who received four internship offers as a sophomore.

That's the problem though — we can't just assume someone isn't struggling because they live a great life.

There are no words I hate hearing more than "Most kids would be so lucky to have the life you do" or " Just be happy, think about things that you enjoy," because let's face it, none of that is helpful.

I have been seeing a psychologist since I was in the fifth grade, but I always kept it quiet because I didn't want my peers to think I was "crazy" and then I would stop for a while because my parents didn't think I needed it. That same cycle of going and not going has continued with me until now, my sophomore of college. I finally decided to reach out in September to on-campus counseling services for some help.

Now let me take you back to where things started to spiral downhill for me enough to where I felt that taking my life was my only option left. Last year, I started my freshman year at Purdue. I was struggling being away from home for the first time ever, I joined a sorority, and didn't quite know what major I needed to be in or where I wanted to go. Things finally started to look up when I finally found the major I wanted to be in and started getting the grades that I had worked so hard for, I had an internship offer as a freshman and for the first time, all of those days and nights spent in the library felt like they paid off.

Then April hit, I went to a frat house as someone's date to their event. That is one night I could never forget. I remember not drinking a lot, but staying the night because I had to and being forced to have sex with a guy I didn't want to. I remember crying every minute of it, saying it hurts, but him not stopping. I was too scared to say anything about it.

Now, onto my sophomore year, the first week of school came along and I started talking to this guy and for the first time, I could see myself getting into a relationship. The first weekend back I went to a party as usual, except this time I never went back to another one. After being drugged and raped at a fraternity, I had no desire to ever go out again. After waking up in my own vomit with no clothes on and no memory of anything that had happened and then puking all day, I have yet to be able to stop thinking about that day. I went to therapy for help, but I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to admit it happened because I felt like it was my fault, but today I know that it is not.

When I started dating that boy I mentioned earlier, I had no idea what I was doing to myself.

He made me choose between my social life of going out with friends and drinking and him. He tore down what little self-confidence my depression and anxiety allowed me to have. My friends didn't approve and that should've been my first sign, but I kept holding onto hope. He tried to get with other girls, always looked through my phone, and other completely unmentionable acts. I tried to end it numerous times but he would always make me feel bad, so I would just stay. Finally, he had the power to walk away. While it was the best thing that happened, it still hurt.

After that, I lost all hope.

I tried to tough it out, but I couldn't take it anymore. I carried myself to classes and cried all through them but tried to hide it, and when I got back to my apartment I would shove my face into my blankets and pillows and let it all out so no one could see or hear me. Three days later of the same cycle, I just couldn't handle it anymore. I was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. So, I took my shower and took NyQuil and over the counter sleeping medications to try and overdose in hopes I wouldn't wake up.

Thankfully, my amazing friend rushed me to the ER after I had told her what happened. Next thing I know, I had an IV in, six bags of IV fluid flushed through my system, blood being drawn every two hours, and a heart monitor on because my heart rate shot all the way up to the 300s. After finally recovering physically from that, I was transferred to a mental health hospital in West Lafayette for inpatient treatment. After being released, a week later I started getting those thoughts again, so I took it upon myself to withdraw myself from classes for the remaining of the semester to take care of myself. My mom picked me up from my therapist's office at school and took me to another mental health hospital in Indy, so I would be closer to home. Once again, I was in inpatient treatment for five days, receiving the proper treatment.

I was so scared. I didn't want people to think I dropped out of school. I didn't want people to think I was crazy. I didn't want to be defined by this time of my life. I didn't want to be watched every minute. I didn't want to be the topic of conversation. I didn't want to be judged.

The truth is, people will talk no matter what you do. I know I was weak, but that's the thing I knew I was and I got the help I needed. I didn't want to pull myself out of school, I mean I was a sophomore taking senior-level classes making A's and B's, but at that point, I had to make sure I took care of myself first, and to me that required a lot of strength. I am not ashamed of spending time in a mental health hospital, because I did what I needed to take care of myself. I am happy to announce I have been offered a position in the Walt Disney World Disney college program in Orlando and I have accepted my offer and will be there from February until August, and I will return to Purdue in the fall of 2020.

I am that girl who always has a smile on her face. The girl who is always laughing. That girl who if you don't have a friend, I will be your friend because I know how it feels to be alone and I will not allow you to reach that feeling. That girl who is always there for her friends. That girl who gets good grades, works hard, and stays involved in school.

I am also that girl who spent a month in and out of hospitals and treatment.

I am the girl who has therapy two-three times a week. I am that girl who felt so worthless. I am that girl who felt so alone and so depressed that I let the voices in my head convince me that suicide was the only answer.

I am stronger mentally and physically than I have been in years, but I still have so much work left to do. Some days are still harder than others, but I know I have amazing friends and family there to pick me up when I can't. My story didn't end that day for a reason and it doesn't end now. I am worth it.

If you made it this far, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my story. Thank you for thinking I was worth it.