Photography by Mason Schlopy

Please note: In this letter, there is mention of suicidal ideation. If you think you may find this content triggering, please consider reading one of the other letters of IfYoureReadingThis.org, or prepare to access any support systems or resources you find helpful.


If you’re reading this, find what makes you feel alive.

Growing up I always expressed how I felt. No matter the feeling my parents encouraged me to explain what I felt and why I felt it, emotions were not something to be afraid of. Though at times I had great difficulty, growing up in a very dysfunctional family, complicated a topic that was seemingly straightforward. Feelings and emotions sometimes felt blurry, as if there were two people yelling in my ears, but I couldn’t hear what either was saying. When I hit 12 years old something changed in the way I perceived my emotions and feelings and I shut down. I no longer felt I could say anything, because I was not really sure what I felt. This only progressed as I internalized everything I felt, and clamped down on intense feelings only to make them grow angry overtime. This resulted in writing myself letters, containing how dreadful and despairing the world felt, everything I deemed to be wrong with myself, and how much I just wanted to die. 

As I began high school it got worse, the sense of despair and miserableness started to affect how I perceived everything. I no longer cared to try in any aspect, I refused to acknowledge or confront any issues. This only escalated during the pandemic as I could no longer distract myself and was locked in my own mind. I became numb to it all, could not remember the last time I felt a sense of content, as my head was always buzzing with restlessness only to cause myself to become angrier and internalize it on a greater scale.

During this time I began listening to classic rock more and more, as it was the only thing that gave me a sense of peace and quietness in my mind. It allowed me to escape my own bleakness and imagine living in that time period, as I read artists' biographies, watched documentaries, analyzed lyrics, and went down the proverbial rabbit hole. It made me feel alive and want to be alive. Still it did not solve my problems. I felt heavier in my mind, I always wanted to sleep and isolate myself from everyone, as I barely had any patience to deal with myself. I clung on to classic rock harder. 

My senior year of high school was my breaking point. My suicidal ideation was at the forefront of my mind as I thought out when I would stop this. When I received my acceptance letter to Syracuse, a time that was supposed to be celebratory, I felt nothing. I didn't care and I was angry at myself as I so badly wanted to but could not. I broke down to my mom that night saying “I need help, I can't keep living this way”. It was beyond difficult. I could barely get the words out as I told her I’m tired of not knowing what I feel, or feeling nothing but dread and despair, that I wanted to die and not be a burden for anyone anymore. My parents were surprised to see how emotionally distraught I was, that I kept it all inside, asking why I didn’t say something. I had no answer, because I couldn’t say that they were part of the reason. 

Soon I began therapy, though I had tried before I did not like the previous therapist as they would sit there and ask me “what’s wrong”. This time it was different as I was no longer asked to explain what’s wrong with me, but rather the situation. I slowly unraveled years of inner turmoil, anger, sadness, and despair. I also learned that this was not something I had complete control over, as I met with a psychiatrist and was put on an SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors). After a few months my mind was feeling lighter, I could focus on things I wanted to achieve, a weight was lifted off my shoulders as I understood what being content feels like. Throughout this all my passion and adoration for rock grew into my life aspiration. It was no longer something that was out of reach, but tangible as I learned about different roles in the music industry to get involved in. 

I am now three years away from this moment in my life and could not imagine then, that I now have the capacity to be this happy. That’s not to say that I don’t struggle with depression and anxiety anymore, but I’ve seen the otherside of what I couldn’t before. That is in part due to music, my passion for it which makes me want to pursue the life I want to live. Depression and anxiety no longer control my life, though I will always deal with them and a dysfunctional family, they do not define who I am nor what I am capable of. Harness your passion in life and let it push you forward, and always ask for help. It’s never too late. 

Lauren D., Syracuse University

 

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