I just finished the book 13 Reasons Why, and there were some things that I liked and there were somethings that I didn’t like. The premise is that a teenage girl has committed suicide. But before her death she recorded tapes explaining the events, more precisely the people involved in each event, that snowballed her life to the point where she felt that suicide was her only option. After her death these tapes get mailed out to each and every person that has a feature part in her story. Sort of a blame game from the grave. From a psychological stand point, this book was very intriguing, and for me hit a little close to home.

I have battled depression since I was 11, and while I never wanted to end my life, I most certainly contemplated attempting suicide. Like Hannah, the girl in the book, I couldn’t understand how people didn’t see how miserable I was. And if they did know, why they didn’t do anything about it? Also, like Hannah, I reached out for help. However, this is where our stories diverge. Not because I got help, boy wouldn’t that have been nice, but because my reaction to the refusal of help was different. I reached out to three people.

Person #1 – I went to a teacher that I trusted and had a relationship with. I told this teacher that I was horribly depressed, that I hated my life and that I wanted to get help. I wanted to find a therapist, but I didn’t know how. This teacher’s reaction – “But you function so well, you don’t want to get involved with a therapist. They usually screw you up worse.” There was a suggestion of journaling and meditation. End of conversation.

Person #2 – Another adult, outside of school. Again, I told this person that I was horribly depressed, that I hated my life and that I needed help. I needed to talk to a therapist. Are you ready for this person’s reaction? “But it’s such a small community and there’s only one therapist. Everybody would know. Are you sure?” No suggestion of something else that might help, I was told to think about it whether it would be worth it.

At this point I was at my wits end. I didn’t want my life to end, but I was seriously starting to think that the only way that I could get someone to help me, is if I tried to commit suicide. If I attempted suicide then people would finally believe me that I needed help. Then people would understand that I didn’t give a crap who knew. I wanted to feel better. I wanted life to not suck so much. So I started to devise ways to kill myself that were guaranteed to fail. The main problem, I had always been an overachiever. I needed it to look like a genuine attempt or people wouldn’t believe me, so I was afraid that I would accidentally succeed. So enter:

Person #3 – I was fed up with adults by this point, so I went to someone my own age. I told this person that I was horribly depressed, I hated life and was thinking about killing myself. Then I asked if I could stay with them for a bit, so that I wouldn’t. This person’s reaction? They yelled at me. Why was I coming to them with this? What were they supposed to do? Why did I say that?

My reaction? I left. I have a feeling that most people in my situation would have then gone on to carry out their plan. After all, how much more validation that nobody gives a crap does one person need? That is not what I did, and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because I have a stubborn streak the size of the Mississippi River. Maybe it’s because I knew deep down that I wanted to keep living. Or maybe it’s because I finally realized that in this instance, as in almost every other thing in my life, I was on my own. If I needed something, I had to get it for myself. So instead of being crushed, I was furious. I had point blank, no beating around the bush asked for help three times and on each occasion that person couldn’t see beyond their own feelings or stigmas to help me. So fuck all of them! Fuck everybody! I was going to live and I was going to get my own help just to spite them. (Remember that stubborn streak I mentioned?)

When I went off to college, I did just that. I found myself a therapist. And when she didn’t work out, I found a different therapist. I did this until I found one that clicked with me and then I stuck with her until the clicking was gone. Then I found a new one. I did it on my own, but I shouldn’t have had to do it on my own. I was a teenager who worked up the nerve to tell people that I needed help, and I was denied that help. Until the end of my days, I will never understand that. I will never understand how someone can ignore a person standing right in front of them asking for help. Asking for help, especially for mental health issues, is one of the hardest things anybody can do. Looking back at my own experience and after reading this book I can understand why some people feel that suicide is the only answer. When no one is willing to help you, that seems like the only option to make the pain stop.

So if someone stands in front of you and asks for help, HELP them! If you don’t have the skills personally, help them find someone who does have the skills. If you think that they’re just looking for attention, you’re right. They are screaming out for someone, anyone to pay attention to them. To prove to them that they are worthwhile, that their life is precious and worth saving. Help those who ask for it, and even if they don’t ask for it outright, if you see the signs show them that you care and that they matter. Sometimes all it takes is one person, one smile, one shared can of soda and a moment or two of truly listening.

I was watching “The West Wing” one day and one of the characters told a story. That story affected me so much I re-watched it several times before continuing on with the episode. In that story a man falls down a hole and can’t get out. He’s screaming for help, but no one seems to hear him. Until finally a doctor peers down into the hole. The man pleads with him to help him out, but not seeing an easy way to help, the doctor writes a prescription, throws it down into the hole and goes on his way. Again the man starts screaming for help. This time a priest stops and peers down. The man pleads with him to help him out. Again, not seeing an easy way out, the priest writes down a prayer for the man and throws it down into the hole. Frustrated and with two worthless scraps of paper, the man starts screaming for help again. This time a friend of the man peers down the hole. Upon realizing the predicament, the friend jumps down into the hole. The man is incensed with his friend. Why did he jump into the hole? Now both of them were stuck! But the friend smiles and shakes his head. Clasping his hand on the man’s shoulder the friend says, “Never fear, I’ve been down in this hole before, and I know the way out.”

To those who are at the end of their rope contemplating suicide, don’t give up. As hard as it is to believe, there is someone who would miss your smile, or the particular color of your eyes. There is someone who wishes that they could get to know you better. There is someone whose life will be irreparably damaged if you’re not in it. You are not alone. I’ve been there before, many of us have been there before and we know the way out.  There is always someone who has stood exactly where you are right now. Their reasons for being there are probably different, but it doesn’t change the fact that they have stood in that same hole, and they now know the way out. They know what it is to feel so alone that the very thoughts in their head echo like a canyon. They know what it is to feel so beaten down, abused and misused that even the thought of moving is exhausting. The very act of breathing hurts. There are people who understand and know full well that some exercise, St. John’s Wart and a better attitude are bullshit. And even better, they know that life doesn’t have to be so hard. They know that there is a way out of the hole, you just have to keep screaming for help until that person arrives.

So hold on. It doesn’t matter if it’s a life line that someone has thrown to you, or the tiniest, most delicate thread of hope or faith that things have got to get better. Find something, anything to hold onto and never let go. This world needs you.

For help 24/7 in the United States call this number – 1-800-273-TALK. Click here for help worldwide.