Sometimes We Don’t Show Concern Until It’s Too Late

By Cortland HunterDecember 1, 2020

Because of the social climate we are living in, members of marginalized groups are teaching other people how to understand them. I see people trying to meet them halfway; to try and understand what it’s like to live in the other person’s skin. As a Black, queer, mentally ill person from the South, I know what it’s like to feel stigmatized.

Having the opportunity to communicate to someone what’s like to be me has been a long, bumpy road. Now, at age 25, I’m just learning how to do that without shame or fear.

I’ve experienced depression since age 12. The seed was planted when I first endured bullying in school and my self-worth quickly deteriorated. I became secretive and reserved. My academic performance suffered, which created tension and disconnect between some of the teachers and myself. The relationship with my parents also suffered. Friends came and went. Back then I didn’t know how to adequately describe what I was going through.

At age 24, I was diagnosed as a major depressive. This diagnosis came after ten years in and out of therapy, and a stint on anti-depressants.

Telling someone I had been diagnosed with a mental illness didn’t come across as I had hoped it would, not as it does when I have a physical health problem—I speak only from my own experience when I say this. The year before, I had undergone an exhausting series of medical tests and doctor visits. I even wore an ambulatory EEG for the first few days of 2019. I had been having what appeared to be neurological issues. It seemed everyone who knew of the situation was making a fuss over me.

But as soon as I mentioned that I needed support for my mental health, the tone shifted. People would tell me I had their support, but it never went further than an empty promise.

Between then and now, I attempted suicide. This attempt to take my own life was followed by a six-day involuntary stay in a behavioral health facility. In a way, it felt as if I underwent a surgery for my soul.

A friend recently told me, “Please forgive me if I overlook something you’re trying to tell me, but also, please let me know.” This friend would also say “I always care, even if I don’t know what to do or say.”

Those remarks carried a lot of weight. I had been walking on eggshells, leaving warning signs here and there, waiting for someone to notice. I bore emotional scars that not many seemed to see or care to see. If someone asked how I was, I would say “I’m hanging in there.” But what I meant to say was “I’m hanging by a thread.” When I spoke, I wondered who was listening. I began to withdraw from activities and commitments expecting someone to ask why, but no one ever did.

In life, there are often times when we don’t always know what to do or say. I am not exempt from that. I have found that writing is one of the most effective ways for me to convey what I need to—just as I am now. Slowly, but gradually, I am sorting out how to guide people in understanding me and how my brain functions. I challenge moments when a call for help is met with silence. I do all that I can to educate people on how their energy and actions impact others. Most importantly, I have finally learned how to advocate for myself.

Sometimes we don’t show concern until it’s too late. Maybe it’s human nature. Thankfully, it was not too late for me.

Whatever you are facing, there is always hope. And we will hold on to hope until you’re able to grasp it yourself. If you’re thinking about suicide, we encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool to locate professional help and to read more stories like this one here. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor.

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Comments (8)

  1. Marina.

    Thank you for sharing this. I myself was recently discharged from a behavioral health facility. I admitted myself because I knew it was time to try to heal from my past so that I could save my myself, my marriage, and just become self aware of who I am now.

    Reply  |  
    1. TWLOHA

      We are so inspired by your courage to take that step, Marina.

      Reply  |  
  2. Andre'

    You are very brave for sharing your experience. Your experience may help someone else who is silently suffering, find away to open up to others.

    Reply  |  
  3. Stacey

    This is so well said. Thank you for sharing.

    Reply  |  
  4. Sarah O'Neil

    Your post is going to save lives, if it hasn’t already. You are here for many many reasons, and saying these things, and plucking the exact words from the verbal ether to poignantly and succinctly convey your powerful and critical message(s) to give life to this post is one of them. Thank you for staying. Every damn day, thank you. Today needs you. Tomorrow needs you. Roughly, as a guess, 22,000 tomorrows need you.
    It is hard and brave to stay but I speak for untold numbers of people I’ll never know, I’m so glad you’re here.

    Reply  |  
  5. Eugenia Holste

    Thank you for writing your true feelings and what you have been going through. I feel so helpless knowing what to say. Your excellent writing helps me understand what you have been going through. Don’t be afraid or ashamed to share. You have nothing to blame yourself. So thankful to read you heartfelt words, and feel you have reached a turning point in your life. You will be in my thoughts and prayers, and I feel you have great talents and you can help many others who are going through similar problems. God bless you.

    Reply  |  
  6. Mendy

    I entirely relate to this. But, I wasn’t ever bullied or made fun of, and lived in a good house, yet I relate to this.
    I lost interest in the things I used to care about. I became really good at “acting”, always smiling with my teeth, speaking in a happy tone. Then I discovered self-harm, I injued my arms in the struggle of feeling something, anything. And soon the number of scars grew on both arms. I began wearing a blazer or a jacket no matter the weather or time, yet no one ever asked, nor cared. I became even more distant, as I believed that truly no one cared about me, not even my parents or supposed friends. That realisation, allowed me to lose all hope, and just want to disappear. I’ve hidden that I’ve attempted from everyone, yet not a single person stopped to ask, “hey, do you wanna talk? how are you…really?”. No matter how many attempts I had made, I’d somehow live, anxious about living, yet too depressed to want to live, like wanting to be along, but not wanting he feeling of being lonely. But still, I’m still here, barely holding on. I’ve got a lot to learn, but hearing other people stories just reaffirms that I still have a chance…

    Reply  |  
    1. TWLOHA

      We are genuinely so grateful you are still here. We wish you didn’t have to feel and experience the pain and hurt and isolation you’ve felt and continue to feel though. But we hope that through reading these stories, you know you are not alone. Not alone in how you feel and not alone in your struggles. Please know that you can always reach out to us for encouragement and resources by emailing our team at [email protected]. We are here to listen or to offer any support we can. Thank you for your honesty, Mendy.

      Reply  |  
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