Breaking the Silence Stories

It’s crucial to create a work environment where conversations about mental health are encouraged and normalized. By sharing your story, you can help others feel empowered to share their own challenges and access resources to proactively address their mental health needs. The below stories have been shared by our caregivers across the organization in hopes that you will know that you are not alone.

Content warning, the following stories discuss suicide, suicide ideation, self-harm, and mental health crisis situations.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I have been struggling with mental health and suicidal ideation for over 3 years. I have had to take leave of absence time after time to complete Intensive Outpatient Programs. In the moment and a few months after I am "ok" and then the cycle continues, and I am back to where I started or worse. Having resources like Lyra and my therapist I see through Lyra has really helped me off the ledge so many times as well as having a supervisor who has been so supportive and kind during all of this.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

My struggles started at 10 years old. Years of mental, physical, and emotional abuse started building up. At 13, I had my first attempt, I told nobody. I've had other attempts since then, many going unknown-- with me dealing with the aftermath by myself. Only a few were "serious" enough to be interrupted and warrant a medical hospital visit. I put "serious" in quotation marks because, the truth is, every attempt is serious. Maybe not medically, but the mental and emotional turmoil is just as bad, especially when I was dealing with it by myself. And nobody should ever have to feel alone through their struggles. It's okay to ask for help. I did a month ago. Checked myself in before I could attempt to do anything-- I knew there were things and people I didn't want to leave behind. And I'm glad I did. I was given an opportunity to reset and be open with my close friends-- I now know I can go to them when things get hard. That's the most important thing. You don't have to go through these struggles by yourself. Nobody will judge you, and those that do, don't understand, and that's okay. As long as your friends understand, and you understand, that's all that's important. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Things won't be immediate, I struggle every day, but things are so much easier now that my friends are aware that I may need a little extra support. Even if you don't want to tell your friends, your loved ones, tell someone-- weather that be a therapist, or anybody that you trust-- one person knowing can help you feel the relief from suffering by yourself. Heck, even if you just want to shoot me an email, I can listen. You've got this.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

Twelve years ago, I checked into a hotel with a plan, but it wasn't for a vacation. I didn't tell anyone how low I was feeling. On the outside, I was enjoying sunshine and pretending everything was fine. But inside? I felt like I was covered in that gross green slime from Ghostbusters. You know, the one that sticks to you no matter what you do? Yeah, it was like that-head to toe, inescapable, crushing. When the day came, I checked into that hotel fully prepared. And guess what? It didn't work. I woke up furious. To this day I have never been so angry. But then, this voice in my head screamed louder than my anger: "you don't want to die, you want relief. And relief is a feeling you need to be alive to feel." It was like a catchy song stuck in my head that wouldn't stop. Over and over" 'Relief is a feeling you have to be alive to feel." So, I checked out of the hotel (and yes, I took the bus home, because as I mentioned I'm a planner and heaven forbid I inconvenience someone with driving my car home if I was dead right?) I reached out to a friend and told them everything. It wasn't easy but eventually, I found the right counselor and for me the right meds. Things got better-slowly but surely. Fast forward to two years ago: I suffered a gut-wrenching loss and that same slimy feeling started creeping back in. But this time, I knew the signs. I knew my thoughts were lying to me, and I got help way sooner. Spoiler alert: I'm still here. Life's pretty good, and I've learned that it won't always be perfect. The real trick? Knowing the steps to take when it isn't. So, here's the takeaway: It took all four of the Ghostbusters to cross their streams to take down the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Even they knew they had to team up to be successful so if you're feeling slimed, remember you are not alone and it's okay to ask for help.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I have a friend that was going through a terrible divorce, and she had found out her best friend and husband were having an affair. Her whole world imploded, and she felt so alone. When she talked to me, I could tell that she was in a deep depression, and she started talking about wanting to be gone. I recognized it as a sign she was thinking about taking her own life. I was apprehensive about talking to her and was afraid that she might shut down, but it became more apparent she needed more help and support than I could give. I talked with her and was able to get her to go in and talk to someone and when they wanted to admit her, she said she couldn't because of her pets. I became a surrogate dog mom, and I made sure to get her pictures of them every day doing fun things. She finished treatment and was able to continue treatment and is happy and progressing with her life.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I’m going through more than people know. I can put on an amazing façade when I need to. Sometimes I try to reach out for help, but my coworkers don’t seem to care. When you ask someone, ‘how are you?’, most people don’t want a conversation of what’s wrong. The answer is usually ‘good’ or ‘it’s going’ or ‘not bad’. You repay the question and get the same answer then you move on. I speak with a therapist regularly, but not the same as having friends to talk to sometimes and having a coworker that cares to listen. Last night I left crying because of some hard things I was dealing with, but my coworkers were too busy to care about what I had to say or going through. It leaves you wondering sometimes if people would notice you were gone or miss you. Are you making an impact? Are you recognized? I’m not speaking about being gone by killing myself, just a hypothetical scenario that I was one day not here but somewhere else. It is the alienation and dismissive treatment that leads those with depression and other problems to seek suicide. I am fortunate enough to have a friend that is the best person there ever was. Always willing to listen and always willing to just hold my hand or give me a hug. I don’t need special attention or other people’s pity. What I do want is people to take a real interest in what they ask people and be willing to acknowledge other people when they need to talk. Don’t need to downplay, don’t need to feed into it, but sometimes, just listen.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I had not experienced suicide in my personal life until last year, 2023. My dear cousin, whom I considered a tough man, at age of 41 took his life. There are so many unanswered questions, that will remain, reality is that we will never know what he was going through in his mind. Yes, we, the family, have broken bits and pieces of information that will never solve the puzzle. His children will grow up without understanding why their dad decided to end his life, that is one of the saddest things for me to deal with. Also, the wondering if there was anything any of us (his brothers, sister, stepfather, rest of the family) could have done to help him. I have to admit that it had been couple of years that I had been in contact with him and that is something that makes me feel guilt at not having been around him when he may have been at his lowest or reaching out for help. I realize that it's everyone's responsibility to bring awareness to this tragic situation. To be aware that suicide is very tangible and that it can happen in any family.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

It is more difficult than may be perceived living with a parent, partner, friend, child, or sibling with mental health disorders. I lived with my mother who attempted suicide during my lifetime more times than I can remember. It was hard not to see this as a selfish act. It was hard not to get angry and resentful of how this affected me and others that I loved. My mother eventually was successful in her attempts and we lost her back in 2014. Losing a parent in this way affected me profoundly. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would also lose my brother in law in a similar manner. My brother in law took his life in 2022. He was so young and full of life. We missed the signs of his struggles and never thought that we would be facing this nightmare again. It was such a waste of a beautiful life. His children were not quite grown. These children now are getting married and facing life choices that they shouldn't have to make without a father in their life. Educating about mental illness and suicide prevention is so important. If it saves even one life it is worth it.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I was sexually abused by my stepfather from age 10 years to 18 years. When I finally told my mom at age 17, she told me to go take a lie detector test. I was a gifted and sensitive child, high achieving and creative. But my stepdad and stepmother were allowed to say things to me like "you'll be pregnant or in jail before you're 18." We were poor, apparently. My parents could afford cigarettes, which they smoked in the house and in the car with me in it, but they couldn't afford to pay for medical care or dental care for me and my siblings. Despite the cards stacked against me, I graduated at the top of my high school class and at the top of my nursing program. I never felt like I belonged and have always struggled with emotional regulation, reactivity, and feelings of worthlessness. I started binge drinking to numb the grief at age 26. Still, I continued to be successful, going on to earn my bachelor's degree, then embarking on a travel-nursing journey, made what I thought was my "adopted family" in several friendships, bought a house, managed to be physically fit, and to have a couple of long-term relationships. I've been having suicidal thoughts since I was 11 years old. I finally tried to kill myself a little over a year ago. I wasn't successful. I then decided to quit drinking, and I've been sober for 10 months. Guess where all my friends are now? Gone. Turns out they were conditional friends. I have little to no support. I feel like if I died today, no one would give a damn. I've dedicated my life to trying to help heal the world and myself, and I don't get any recognition. In fact, we aren't ALLOWED to talk about our jobs are we? Meanwhile my partner is constantly celebrated for being this amazing entertainer. He has so many friends and allies and people loving on him and supporting him. I resent him for it. And I resent myself for being entitled just like the rest of this forsaken country. I'm really really good at my job. I'm the only nurse who hasn't called out for 7 months. I'm reliable with a dedication to integrity. And do I get recognized at my job? No. I'm taken for granted every single day. Just when I think I'll leave this all behind and move somewhere else, I get paralyzed with grief. Stay in bed and type my story on a stupid work forum where everything is anonymous, and no one is going to know who I am. Then I'll self-sooth with nachos and go to bed. And I'll wake up feeling like I can go on. And I do. I will go on.

This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.

I've had issues with my mental health for as long as I can remember. The feeling that I lacked either the looks or the social skills to make it in the "popular" scene at school, be accepted by my family, or easily make friends. Over the years, I wasn't able to talk about how I felt, because it wasn't acceptable. You didn't share what you were feeling outside the family, and sharing how you felt with your family made them uncomfortable - which wasn't OK, either. By the time I was 20, I had an eating disorder, was depressed and anxiety-ridden, and had attempted suicide 3 times because I simply didn't feel supported or loved. I continued to fight my own mental health battle for years, and attempted suicide another 3 or 4 times. I'm now 50, and I've learned through reading, counseling, and learning how to communicate properly with my 16-year-old son who is on the Autism spectrum and has ADHD, that most likely I am on the spectrum as well, and I never knew it. I'm learning how to communicate better, and I'm feeling better about things in general. It's just proof that if you are open to trying new things and learning more about yourself and the journey, we're on, you might find a better way to move through life.

Content warning: This post includes content about suicide.

On December 27th, 2018, I came home to find my 11-year-old bonus son has shot himself in the head with my husband’s gun. He was still alive when I found him. I ran to get my phone and called 911. The only thing I could do was apply pressure to his head to try to stop the bleeding. I told him I loved him and to stay with me. Paramedics arrived and took him down to the elementary school to be life flighted to OHSU. When he arrived, they were able to do a surgery, removing a portion of his skull to allow his brain to swell. His ICP was 71. He was moved to PICU at Doernbecher’s. He was not stable enough for imaging at the time, so we waited. He was placed into a medically induced coma to prevent additional brain activity. After a couple days we were able to do a CT to determine what damage was done. They determined a blood clot had formed and took him in for another surgery to remove it. They were successful in this and his ICP dropped back down to about 13. He was having seizures while under, so they administered medication. After a few days they informed us that there was no brain activity, and the path of the bullet was surrounded by necrotic tissue. On January 4th, 2019, we removed him from life support. It’s been incredibly hard managing this grief. I wanted to share my story because even though it is enormously sad, people need to know that age does not matter. Mental health affects everyone and it’s generally the people you would least expect because they don’t want you to know they are struggling. I won’t silence Dakoda’s suicide because it happened, and it shouldn’t have.

Content warning: This post includes content about suicide.

Content warning: This post includes content about suicide.

Content warning: This post includes content about suicide ideation and self-harm.