This month is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, and according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, September 8^th – 14^th is recognized as National Suicide Prevention Week 2019. However, today, September 10^th, is World Suicide Prevention Day, and today is the day I deicide to share some of my story regarding this silent crisis as well as my anxiety, depression, and mental health.

Outside a selected few individuals, I have never discussed this with anyone including my family. I actually just briefly told my mother and brother about this three days ago. However, at the beginning of this summer while I was out with two close friends, we were having a deep conversation about seeing a counsellor/therapist, and, without realizing it until after the fact, I uttered the words, "you do not know this, because I have never told anyone really, but at one point in time I was suicidal. I've attempted suicide." At that point, I remember texting one of my best friends saying that I was ready to share my story, and after seeing my second counsellor/therapist within the past couple of years, here we are today.

Growing up and still to this day, I have a hard time opening up and reaching out to people regardless of if it is with family, close friends, or for help. As a child, I was left alone, abandoned, often. This was not because of anything my mother and grandmother did while raising me, because in fact, they are two of the strongest people I know. I will never understand what they had to go through to ensure their children, and grandchildren, were taken care of, and I will never fault or judge their actions. They will never understand the level of respect, admiration, and appreciation I have for them knowing just some of the things they have gone through.

However, my parents got divorced before I can even remember, and at first, I saw my father on a semi-regular basis. Things were what they were, and I learned to accept my situation, because my mother, grandmother, and grandfather stepped up. Eventually, and which I do not give him enough credit or appreciation for, so did my stepfather. Until one day after sitting on the porch and staring out the window all day waiting to be picked up, my mother had to tell me that my father was not coming to get me that weekend. As a child, I did not know how to process this. At the same time, this was not the first time something like this had occurred. Though, that was the first time I became used to being forgotten or told not this weekend. I started to accept the fact that drugs, sex, alcohol, and other people were more important than I was. I also had to realize that in order to see and visit certain people in my life, I was going to be left alone, locked in a room or office while they were either in a different room or across town doing what they wanted to do, and that verbal abuse, whether directly or indirectly towards me, was going to occur. I just never realized, until here recently, how this toxic culture and environment would affect me.

At that point, three things saved me. The first being my home away from home – Camp Carson. Although I felt out of place and that I was still a burden on the counsellors and other campers there, I was still able to experience different cultures and the "camp magic." I left every summer crying, because I did not want to leave. This past Labor Day weekend, I attended Family Camp with my family and finally realized that I was not disliked, nor was I a burden per say, but that my altered perspective caused those thoughts and feelings. The second thing was the community around me. I have always said that it took a village to raise me, and thank you to everyone who stepped in while some stepped out. Lastly, traveling. During high school, I went to Australia with an organization that I really knew no one outside a few pre-departure meetings. However, on that trip, I was able to be my true and authentic self. I did not have to worry about anything, and as I have come to learn was, I was experiencing living in the present moment. Nonetheless, in all these settings, and still to this day, I felt like I was a burden to those around me.

I was the closest to both my grandfather and grandmother. They were my absolute best friends in life and whenever both passed away, my world, simply put, ended. My grandfather passed when I was young (elementary age) and I did not leave my bedroom, nor speak to anyone for at least a week. My grandmother passed second semester freshmen year of college, and, to this day, I am honestly surprised I passed all my classes. In all honestly, I am surprised I actually graduated and am still here today. At that point in time, I did not realize I had years of depression built up and an unknown anxiety issue. Instead of confronting any potential problems I may had or have, I threw myself into work – both school and my actual job. I did not speak about either situation, or really anything personal such as mental health, depression, or anxiety, to anyone; I did not know how too. I remember someone who's opinions I held highly coming up to me saying, "Brandon, why are you at school? Why are you here? You just lost your grandma?" My only response was, "this is all I know what to do." However, what I have never shared with anyone until now was, most nights of both semesters of freshmen year, I was either drinking my sorrows away from depression and anxiety or knocking myself out for weekends at a time. After freshman year, I moved back home and eventually transferred to my third university.

Over the next four years, I was a member of many different organizations, held multiple different positions, met with university officials on what seemed like a daily basis, was a guest presenter for multiple different classes and groups, and a part of numerous different orientations. I showed up to campus before the library opened at 7am, left at 2am, and headed to work shortly thereafter. It was common for me to be up two, three, four, even five days at a time, because the only way I knew how to deal with my anxiety and depression was to throw myself into school, work, and different involvements. I lived off coffee and there were days were I simply did not eat. At the same time, my drinking went from for fun to simply blacking out; my ability to knock myself out went from trying to sleep the weekend away to overdosing and the respective side effects; and my non-sober personality and attitude became that of either anger and rage or avoiding people at all times and refusing to check my phone and social media until days later. I, also, soberly started to ignore messages, phone calls, people, friends, events, etc. Yet, I thought I was fine and that this was life, although, the now faint and nearly invisible scars said otherwise.

The first time I started seeing a counsellor was shortly after my first suicide attempt. I knew I needed to see someone and discuss what had occurred and my past. However, I never truly opened up, nor was I willing or had the intent to open up about this to my former counsellor. Instead, we discussed other topics until I disagreed and never went back.

Now working with my second counsellor, I have learned that this was not the life I wanted anymore, nor were these thoughts and actions fine. I also realized that I was letting myself down, because I was not taking action to change due to fear of becoming vulnerable. I have always told my office staff and the members of the different organizations I have been a part of that I like to be pro-active and active, but never reactive. Well, in all honestly, I have been reactive when it comes to my mental health, anxiety, depression, and everything else, until now. I have been seeing my counsellor now basically weekly for the past several months and this is what I have learned thus far:

Within the first appointment, she mentioned to me that I was hard and difficult on people, and that I have high expectations of everyone, including myself, which is true. Also, that I will not be happy in life 24/7, nor is her job to make me happy, because in order to grow and change, you must accept the fact that you will be uncomfortable, vulnerable, and you will need to step outside your comfort zone. At that point, we have stopped using the term "happy," because it is relative; instead, we use "at peace" and "content." I also learned that I have spent majority of my life in a "fight-flight-freeze" response. I used to be, and still am to a degree, anxious, reactive, and angry. Although this response helped me when I was younger, it is exhausting and overwhelming at minimum, and trouble and dangerous at most. I have learned that judgements are simply judgements; to accept the fact that they are there, regardless of if it is a judgement that I am making or judgements made by someone else; and that, in most situations, these judgements, or thoughts and feelings, are not reality. I have learned that taking the opposite action is usually best, such as instead of isolating myself and avoiding people, because I think I am a burden or they hate me, to reach out to people, to always be kind, and to always try and be understanding. Also, to not get stuck doing the usual. I am a person who uses the past while thinking about the future, but continuously forgets about the present. This is true for business, for school, personal life, organizations, and everything else. However, being able to live in the present moment and to accept that the past is the past, the future is the future, but the present is where being at peace is, has already changed my perspective and life. Lastly, finding my resilient zone where I am not continuously experiencing anxiety, hyperactivity, pain, panic, or rage; nor, am I continuously experiencing boredom, depression, being disconnected from life, exhausted, or fatigue is key for me to be able to not only accept and work on myself, but also build and establish relationships without fear of concerns or judgements.

Although I have learned so much in the past many weeks and months, and I have been able to finally process some of my past and accept it, I am still working on me. I am still working on self-joy, self-compassion, self-acceptance (which to finally answer questions and assumptions, yes, I am bi and no I am not "confused," so there is no need to question, wonder, or discuss it anymore because it is 2019), self-confidence, and all the other "self's." I am also still working on being open with those in my life, and I am sorry to those who I either pushed away, did not text first, or never hung out with because I was unable to initiate such plans. I am sorry to those who I may have caused pain or problems, because of my behavior in the past. I am still here for you if you ever need anything or need to talk. To those who have stuck around and put up with my antics, although I may have never mentioned anything to you, just know that it means more to me than anything and thank you. I am finally starting to live my best life for myself, not someone else nor for the benefit of an organization. As I write this, I am sitting in Cabo and enjoying another solo trip. People always ask why I come alone to foreign destinations and that I am courageous for doing such a thing, and I never know what to say. Now I do – I am not courageous or anything; I just feel at home traveling, because while traveling, regardless of if I am with a group or by myself, I am the absolute truest me.

This is just part of my story. I can continue writing, but I have already written about ten different versions of this letter. Maybe one day I will share more of my past that has shaped me into who I was and am today. At the same time, some stories I will never speak aloud again. Either way, if you are reading this and are experiencing anything similar, please know it gets better, but it will not be easy. You have my support and you matter.