A Voice in the Dark<\/strong><\/p>\nWhen my best friend anxiously sobbed to me over the phone at 2 AM that she \u201ccouldn\u2019t do it anymore,\u201d I blearily asked, \u201cDo what, the math homework?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a humorous, stupid response that dragged a choked laugh out of her, the first crack of light in a night that had been full of darkness. What I didn\u2019t realize then was how close she had come to taking her own life.<\/p>\n
Growing up in a strict household, I was taught that mental illness was either a weakness or a luxury, something that didn\u2019t happen to \u201cpeople like us.\u201d Depression was just laziness. Anxiety was overreacting. Therapy was for the broken. I absorbed these beliefs until I began unraveling under academic pressure that made every test and assignment seem insurmountable.<\/p>\n
But my friend\u2019s suffering forced me to see things differently.<\/p>\n
My high school was known for its intense and competitive atmosphere and was no stranger to suicide attempts. A classmate could be present on Monday, and by Friday, people would be gossiping about their admittance to a mental ward. These incidents, though deeply troubling, felt disturbingly commonplace. Teachers would rush to organize assemblies on bullying and mental health, but the urgency often felt hollow and superficial.<\/p>\n
She entered high school with a bright smile and big dreams, but by junior year, she was spiraling. Her nightly phone calls became routine, filling late hours with quiet sobbing.<\/p>\n
That night, before our calculus homework was due, her voice was barely audible through her choking sobs, and she admitted she had a bottle of aspirin right next to her on the bathroom floor and was considering overdosing. I frantically tried to calm her down and stayed on the line till the sun came up, talking her through the ordeal. My voice was trembling as I begged her not to do anything rash and made her promise to show up at school the next day, and somehow, she listened.<\/p>\n
I knew this couldn\u2019t continue, and I urged her to see a therapist, but she hesitated. Her parents didn\u2019t believe in mental health care, so I worked with her to create a Google Slides presentation: statistics on mental health, her recent struggles at school, lists of insurance-covered providers, and evidence-based treatment outcomes. When she finally texted me that they had agreed, I cried tears of relief. Her success felt like a shared victory. It was a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.<\/p>\n
Helping her changed me. I began to see reflections of her pain in myself from panic attacks I had dismissed as overreacting, numb stretches of days where I felt like a shell, and thoughts I never dared to speak aloud. If she deserved help, maybe I did too. That realization followed me into college, where I finally sought therapy. Shame gave way to empathy, and I came to understand the courage it takes to face such inner battles and the importance of offering unconditional support.<\/p>\n
My healing journey hasn\u2019t been linear, but it\u2019s been transformative and enlightening. As a neuroscience major with a psychology minor, I immersed myself in studying psychiatric illness and its biological and psychological roots.<\/p>\n
In a neuropsychiatric patient course, I encountered the story of Bethany Yeiser: a woman who battled schizophrenia and homelessness before becoming a mental health advocate and founder of CURESZ. Her memoir \u05de\u05d5\u05d7 \u05de\u05e0\u05d5\u05db\u05e8<\/em> opened my eyes to how misunderstood and underserved those with serious psychiatric disorders are, especially individuals living with psychosis. I had learned about psychosis in class: hallucinations, delusions, and disorganized thinking, but her anecdotal descriptions of losing her grasp on reality became more than abstract symptoms. What struck me most was how systems failed her and how people turned away from her when she needed help the most.<\/p>\nStudying her case helped me understand psychosis as a profound medical and social crisis, and her advocacy strengthened my desire to not just heal, but help. I learned that mental health care requires more than just compassion, but systemic change. People fall through the cracks because mental health care remains inaccessible, unaffordable, or stigmatized.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s why my support now extends beyond my friends. Today, I volunteer at a crisis line, supporting strangers through the darkest nights of their lives. I speak openly about mental health within my community and family, spaces where stigma still silences conversation, using my own experiences and education to challenge the harmful beliefs I once held myself. When I worked as a patient care technician, I cared for psychiatric patients, gaining firsthand insight into the challenges they face within the healthcare system. I also actively encourage my peers to utilize our university\u2019s counseling services, and I am committed to continuing my education so I can address these issues not only at the bedside but also on a systemic level.<\/p>\n
If we want to reduce suicide, homelessness, incarceration, and suffering among people with severe mental illness, we need reform: expanding funding for mental health services, ensuring insurance coverage for long-term treatment, providing culturally informed education to dismantle stigma surrounding psychosis and other conditions, and training law enforcement in crisis intervention.<\/p>\n
My journey began with a late-night phone call and a desperate attempt to keep someone I loved alive. It has grown into a commitment to stand beside those in crisis and fight for a system that protects them. And, when someone calls in the middle of the night saying they can\u2019t go on, to be the voice that reminds them they can.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
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