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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UPR chapter.

DISCLAIMER: This article touches on topics related to attempted suicide, depression, etc.. Please read at your own discretion. 

 

White walls. All I saw were white walls and doctors in hoodies. A Sunday, just after Valentine’s Day. While most of you had an overall discount good candy kind of day, mine was not. There I was, standing in a urgent room. They call it like this, because it’s very similar to the E.R., but they are allowed to have people that are under obsevation.The room was full of people who only spent a maximum of 4 hours. How did I end up here?

Being a college gal, there’s a high possibility that my life runs on stress. That’s its sugar, its impulse. After a long day at work, my head running on incoherent thoughts… I found myself lying on my living room floor with 3 different bottles of meds. “This is not the answer. I know better than than this.” Words like this were being said, while shamelessly drinking the poetic amount of 21 pills, each representing a year I lived, but wish I didn’t do so in the first place. I’ve been hallucinating because of a medication that entire weekend, things were not going as planned. It’s funny how something as simple as wisdom teeth medication makes you go crazy. Who knew I’d end up with the infamous phrase “I see dead people.” Because I did. That entire weekend I saw my grandmother, my dogs, every fallen angel I’d known in my life, that made great influences on me. I could talk to them, I could ask them anything. I wanted to be closer to them.

It was a string of really bad events. You know the expression in Spanish: “dejar que se llene la copa con la Ăşltima gota hasta que se derrame”. It was a bad weekend. I think I was born to hate Valentine’s Day. Every year I’d go through bad situations. From suspensions in high school and work, nothing surprises me now, but somehow I thought this year was worse than the year my grandmother died. Got my wisdom teeth taken out, went to a funeral on Valentine’s Day, then had a car crash. Add this to a long history of hiding out your feelings and you get the worst bittersweet combo you can imagine. Abandonment and bad decision making throughout my life. That’s what it made it okay for me to want to leave at first. I thought that maybe, if I just end it all, I might finally be free. Free of what? Everything. As appealing as that thought was at first, I don’t think I can make that same choice again.

Suicide and depression are things that you DO see happening everyday, just not like how you’d expect them. Not everyone reaches out. Not everyone notices your behaviour changing. Not everyone shows symptoms. Sometimes it takes just a simple event to break someone apart.
 
Losing conscience, I called the Suicide Hotline that was located in Nebraska. Can they help you from there? Yes, they can. If they consider you’re a risk, they send someone right away to go see your status. After 30 minutes of excrutiating pain and regret, my guardians arrived, dressed in policemen uniforms. They took me to the nearest hospital, to then transfer me in an ambulance to the hospital that would proceed with the following steps.
 
Arriving there, the doctors were waiting for me. In fact, being the baby face that I am many people responded to my decision with the following comment: “You look so young, What can be so bad?” Advice to anyone: NEVER say this. I mean it. It’s not until you’re in that position, that you realize that sometimes it’s just more than facts, it’s about perspective, an accumulation of traumatic events. The doctors couldn’t believe my age, no one did.
I was alone when all of it happened: Interrogations, countless questions that you always respond with the same thing. Interpretation of your remarks… you name it. It was my choice to be there alone, I didn’t want to seem a bother. Imagine yourself in that position; don’t put yourself in such a strong event. It was a suicide attempt. It was what it was. Doesn’t matter what I tell myself, I’ll always know I lost my strength.
 
The patients, came and went. But I was still there. I was still under observation. I was part of a 24 hour protocol that became a nightmare. They say hell is hot, red… I beg to differ. Hell is white, cold, full of uncomfortable beds. The protocol consists of a lot of medical exams. In case of intoxication, they do whatever it takes to lower down the dose you took with different methods. Depending on the case, the method changes.
You’d think that after being unable to move, to bathe, to brush your teeth… they’d let you go. It’s never like that. You are a risk to yourself, doesn’t matter if you were the one who called or not. You are then transfered to a pscychiatrist, were they evaluate if your stay should be longer, or if you’re medically cleared.
 
I was lucky… but maybe someone you know may not be as lucky as I was. I’m known for hiding my feelings, for hiding pain… showing it in the form of sarcasm. Those were the hints that I gave to one of my closest friends, who gave me the number, just in case. Little did he know, this was the factor that saved me. I am able to write, to talk, to share this experience… and there must be a reason.
 
We never talk about this in Puerto Rico, we always obliviate people’s feelings, their choices, their signals… even when they’re screaming their heart out for help. We’re too busy with our problems. We forget that others are not as strong as us. All of us have a friend screaming for help in the form of a broken smile. Some of us have even lost someone because of suicide. 
 
It’s never too late to call for help. There are professionals who especialize in these cases. Don’t be like 18 year old me: “You pay them to talk about your problems, that they’ll later tell their wives at night.”They are so much more than that. Individuals who took a lot of years to study how humans react. They know a lot better. There are centers, schools even have a counseling office; even the UPR has a diversity of centres. From DCODE, to general counseling… we have alternatives we can use to fight this struggle.
 
Always remember that before an action, there’s a consequence to it. You have something to live for, even if you don’t see it yet. You are not alone.
Nahir Robles was a former member of the Her Campus at UPR chapter from 2013 until 2018. She graduated with a Bachelor's in Integrative Biology. Some of her interests include writing, modeling, and wrestling. She is currently a Her Campus Mentor and works as a Pathology Assistant.
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