To the Teacher Who Said I'd Never Make It to Senior Year
Though I was only diagnosed my freshman year of high school, I have been dealing with symptoms of depression and anxiety my whole life. During my freshman year of college, my mental health hit its lowest point in a lifelong spiral downward, and the one person I wanted to talk to didn’t understand me.
Now, this is what I want her to know:
Dear Favorite Teacher,
I doubt you’ll ever read this. I’ll probably never even tell you anything that’s in here. There are some things people don’t want to know about others, and I’m assuming this counts for you.
I remember when I told you I had anxiety. I don’t remember how the conversation came up. But we’ve discussed it briefly a few times since. No, it’s not “just a phase.” It probably won’t pass after my freshman year of college is over. I can’t just get over it or turn it off. It’s crippling and exhausting. It means questioning everything I do, worrying about and imagining the negative effects of everything. I throw up. I can’t eat. I lock myself in my room alone, break down, shake and cry inconsolably. And that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. But I don’t show you, or anyone, any of it, because I worry people will hate me.
Remember when you told me, “If you have this much anxiety now, you’ll never make it to senior year”? I do. I’ll never forget. It never made me mad, but it hurt like hell. Still does. And that’s not the anxiety talking; I have depression, too. Regret and guilt and sadness make up my daily life. I have no motivation for anything. I constantly break down, regretting my whole life and hating everything about myself. I have many scars you’ll never see. I’m an empty shell of hurt and pain, covered with a thin, fragile and very fake layer of sassiness and confidence. But you have no idea how close you came to being right.
No, I didn’t drop out. But suicide attempts do exist. There’s a reason I missed a whole week of your class mid-semester. I wonder what you would say if you knew.
I’m not asking for favors or pity. I don’t even expect you to understand. But I do wish you would listen. Because there are things you don’t know about me.
If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.
The Crisis Text Line is looking for volunteers! If you’re interesting in becoming a Crisis Counselor, you can learn more information here.
The Mighty is asking the following: Write a letter to anyone you wish had a better understanding of your experience with disability, disease or mental illness. Check out our Submit a Story page for more about our submission guidelines.