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What It’s Really Like To Attend One of the Most Prestigious School in the World

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What It’s Really Like To Attend One of the Most Prestigious School in the World

I know a lot of people who heard of my suicide attempt where wondering why. Why would such a beautiful young woman want to die? Could life really have been that bad? I’m sure some thought I did it for attention.  It really bothers me when people say suicidal people just want attention. There are so many other things I could have done for attention, page generic if that was all I wanted. I decided I wanted to end my life because I couldn’t deal with the pain I was experiencing and I saw no way out. 

Last summer I met the love of my life, cost what is ed my best friend. I was the happiest girl in the world, until things gradually went downhill. As the relationship progressed, I noticed myself getting more and more depressed, self-esteem dwindling. I’ve had a history of mild depression that would come and go – stemming from childhood teasing and sexual assault. So I just assumed there was something wrong with me. It wasn’t until months later that I realized I was in an emotionally abusive relationship.  Lies, manipulation, control, name-calling, and put downs where all part of my everyday life. I was drained from the psychological warfare. I started to feel anxious and fearful at just the thought of interacting with him.

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The sad part is, I don’t even think he knows the extent to which his actions affected me. I couldn’t even express how I felt because everything came down to me “being depressed” and “ruining the relationship”. So I became more depressed.  And there I was, looking crazy. I was the one seeing a therapist and psychiatrist and taking anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. My mental health issues were used against me, to discredit everything I said or did.

I’m sure people are thinking was it really that bad that you wanted to die? It was.  Society tends to overlook the seriousness of the symptoms associated with mental health issues. This suicide attempt was not about me fishing for attention. It was not a cry for help. I actually wanted to die in that very moment. I had lost all hope. I felt lost, alone, and misunderstood. We were in the middle of one of numerous nasty arguments and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was confused and so hurt by the words coming out of the mouth of someone I loved so much. I texted my uncle during the argument. He desperately tried to get me to calm down but I could not. I stopped answering, locked myself in my room and took 3 entire bottles of prescription medication. My mom rushed home when she heard something was wrong. For some reason it upset me that she came, and so I ran out of the house. I was delirious at that point, from all the drugs, but I just kept walking with no destination in mind. A few minutes later I found myself surrounded by police, asking who I was and what I was doing. I remember being angry that they found me and I refused to speak a word. They kept reassuring me that I was not in any trouble. Eventually I cooperated and I was taken to the emergency room, where I then experienced one of the most difficult times in my life.

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Today, I can honestly say I am thankful to still be here. It’s a scary feeling when you genuinely want to die. It’s only been a couple of months, but I’ve come such a long way and wanted to share a few things I learned from this experience.

  1. It gets worse before it gets better

When I decided to overdose, my intention was to die. I never thought I would actually survive. So I never thought about the consequences of failing. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t speak or walk, my head was pounding, my vision was blurred, and I was vomiting non-stop. When I woke up the next day I was disappointed and embarrassed. Not because I tried to take my life, but because I failed to do it successfully and I was still there.  Some may think that a failed suicide would be a turning point for recovery. For some it may be, but for me I definitely felt worse that I failed for weeks after.

  1. Family is forever

I never knew I was this loved. My father never left my side when I was admitted into the hospital. Every day I had family members visiting me. It made me feel so bad when I realized that my actions would have such a devastating impact on those who care for me. I couldn’t even imagine the effects if I had actually died.  Although we may not speak every day, I know my family will ride with me through anything. Their love is as real as it gets.

  1. Psych Unit isn’t what you think it is

After a few days of being monitored in the cardiac unit of the hospital, I was admitted into the psych unit where I had to spend a minimum of 72 hours.  I was scared as shit. All I knew about psychiatric hospitals was from what I saw in scary movies and TV shows. I cried my first night there. The next day a girl spoke to me and she seemed pretty normal. She introduced me to the other people that were around the same age. They all seemed pretty normal too. Because of the stigma on mental illness, we tend to think psychiatric hospitals are just filled with extreme psychotic patients. I can’t even lie, I thought I would see patients screaming and acting crazy or in straitjackets. While I was there, I attended group therapy sessions and seminars on coping skills and spiritual healing. There were no phones allowed so to keep busy during any down time I would read, watch TV, or talk with others.  My parents visited me every day. I only spent a week in there, but I met some of the most kindhearted people and I felt comfortable there; it was a literal safe haven.

  1. You will get judged 

The most important thing I learned is to not give a fuck what people think. It’s okay, not everyone will be able to understand why I felt the way I did.  It’s inevitable that people will still call me crazy or look at me differently. But so what? All that matters is that I am taking the necessary steps to get better. Plus, anyone who’s really down for you will support you without the name-calling and criticizing.

For those who feel awkward, I apologize that my suicide attempt has made you feel uncomfortable and I can assure you that you do not need to act any different around me.  Mental illness needs to be talked about; these misconceptions need to be addressed and people need to realize how insensitive they can be. To anyone currently battling depression or suicidal thoughts, take care of yourself. Self-love is the greatest love. Know that it is okay to feel what you are feeling. Your feelings are valid, but they are also temporary.  It DOES get better.

Written by Corine D
I know a lot of people who heard of my suicide attempt where wondering why. Why would such a beautiful young woman want to die? Could life really have been that bad? I’m sure some thought I did it for attention.  It really bothers me when people say suicidal people just want attention. There are so many other things I could have done for attention, approved if that was all I wanted. I decided I wanted to end my life because I couldn’t deal with the pain I was experiencing and I saw no way out. 

Last summer I met the love of my life, my best friend. I was the happiest girl in the world, until things gradually went downhill. As the relationship progressed, I noticed myself getting more and more depressed, self-esteem dwindling. I’ve had a history of mild depression that would come and go – stemming from childhood teasing and sexual assault. So I just assumed there was something wrong with me. It wasn’t until months later that I realized I was in an emotionally abusive relationship.  Lies, manipulation, control, name-calling, and put downs were all part of my everyday life. I was drained from the psychological warfare. I started to feel anxious and fearful at just the thought of interacting with him.

tumblr_nbw3gf2ao01t58f5mo1_1280

The sad part is, I don’t even think he knows the extent to which his actions affected me. I couldn’t even express how I felt because everything came down to me “being depressed” and “ruining the relationship”. So I became more depressed.  And there I was, looking crazy. I was the one seeing a therapist and psychiatrist and taking anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. My mental health issues were used against me, to discredit everything I said or did.

I’m sure people are thinking was it really that bad that you wanted to die? It was.  Society tends to overlook the seriousness of the symptoms associated with mental health issues. This suicide attempt was not about me fishing for attention. It was not a cry for help. I actually wanted to die in that very moment. I had lost all hope. I felt lost, alone, and misunderstood. We were in the middle of one of numerous nasty arguments and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was confused and so hurt by the words coming out of the mouth of someone I loved so much. I texted my uncle during the argument. He desperately tried to get me to calm down but I could not. I stopped answering, locked myself in my room and took 3 entire bottles of prescription medication. My mom rushed home when she heard something was wrong. For some reason it upset me that she came, and so I ran out of the house. I was delirious at that point, from all the drugs, but I just kept walking with no destination in mind. A few minutes later I found myself surrounded by police, asking who I was and what I was doing. I remember being angry that they found me and I refused to speak a word. They kept reassuring me that I was not in any trouble. Eventually I cooperated and I was taken to the emergency room, where I then experienced one of the most difficult times in my life.

tumblr_ofiibk73sr1uansxmo1_1280

Today, I can honestly say I am thankful to still be here. It’s a scary feeling when you genuinely want to die. It’s only been a couple of months, but I’ve come such a long way and wanted to share a few things I learned from this experience.

  1. It gets worse before it gets better

When I decided to overdose, my intention was to die. I never thought I would actually survive. So I never thought about the consequences of failing. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t speak or walk, my head was pounding, my vision was blurred, and I was vomiting non-stop. When I woke up the next day I was disappointed and embarrassed. Not because I tried to take my life, but because I failed to do it successfully and I was still there.  Some may think that a failed suicide would be a turning point for recovery. For some it may be, but for me I definitely felt worse that I failed for weeks after.

  1. Family is forever

I never knew I was this loved. My father never left my side when I was admitted into the hospital. Every day I had family members visiting me. It made me feel so bad when I realized that my actions would have such a devastating impact on those who care for me. I couldn’t even imagine the effects if I had actually died.  Although we may not speak every day, I know my family will ride with me through anything. Their love is as real as it gets.

  1. Psych Unit isn’t what you think it is

After a few days of being monitored in the cardiac unit of the hospital, I was admitted into the psych unit where I had to spend a minimum of 72 hours.  I was scared as shit. All I knew about psychiatric hospitals was from what I saw in scary movies and TV shows. I cried my first night there. The next day a girl spoke to me and she seemed pretty normal. She introduced me to the other people that were around the same age. They all seemed pretty normal too. Because of the stigma on mental illness, we tend to think psychiatric hospitals are just filled with extreme psychotic patients. I can’t even lie, I thought I would see patients screaming and acting crazy or in straitjackets. While I was there, I attended group therapy sessions and seminars on coping skills and spiritual healing. There were no phones allowed so to keep busy during any down time I would read, watch TV, or talk with others.  My parents visited me every day. I only spent a week in there, but I met some of the most kindhearted people and I felt comfortable there; it was a literal safe haven.

  1. You will get judged 

The most important thing I learned is to not give a fuck what people think. It’s okay, not everyone will be able to understand why I felt the way I did.  It’s inevitable that people will still call me crazy or look at me differently. But so what? All that matters is that I am taking the necessary steps to get better. Plus, anyone who’s really down for you will support you without the name-calling and criticizing.

For those who feel awkward, I apologize that my suicide attempt has made you feel uncomfortable and I can assure you that you do not need to act any different around me.  Mental illness needs to be talked about; these misconceptions need to be addressed and people need to realize how insensitive they can be. To anyone currently battling depression or suicidal thoughts, take care of yourself. Self-love is the greatest love. Know that it is okay to feel what you are feeling. Your feelings are valid, but they are also temporary.  It DOES get better.

Written by Corine D

University represents a lot of ‘firsts’ to young people when they get accepted. It can be the first time you’re away from your family or the first time you’ve studied abroad. It’s the first time you’ll be asked to write a dissertation that will shape the direction your life will head after uni. For myself and a lot of other students at my university and others like it, viagra 60mg it was the first time I needed therapy in my life.

Before I got accepted to one of the most prestigious schools in the world, approved everyone said to me it didn’t matter if I didn’t get in, find that it was still amazing that I tried- I didn’t believe that for a second. I had worked so insanely hard to get four A*s at A level in History, Maths, Psychology and Politics that I felt in that moment that if I was rejected, the ground would swallow me whole; I really wanted and needed to be accepted. Once I found out I was in however, a small cloud of anxiety started to form- I had been selected to spend the next four years of my life at one of the best schools in the world, amongst some of the brightest students in the world. I would no longer be the big fish in the little pond like I was in college and I would have to step everything up to the greatest magnitude in order to come out the other end successful.

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While my friends at other universities were getting drunk for two weeks straight for freshers, I went to this cheesy bar where they played Lion King, Circle of Life at midnight as tradition and everyone was home by 1:30am after a few drinks. Within the first two weeks we had been assigned our first of many 3000 word essays and it went without saying that you had to join as many extra curricular activities as possible to fully take advantage of what the school had to offer; it was intense but everyone else seemed to be dealing with it just fine and I didn’t want to be the one to admit that it was already getting too much. All of my family were so immensely proud of me and would tell anyone who would stop to listen that their daughter was majoring in History and Economics at one of the finest places for education in the world; I almost felt guilty about the anxiety I felt when yet another essay was added to my work load or the slight pang of jealousy I felt when a friend told me they had completed theirs. Was there something wrong with me? Was I being ungrateful?

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It wasn’t until after Christmas, when I found out what happened to Alice* that I realised that I wasn’t alone in the pressure I felt. Alice was a lovely girl,very much to herself, I only really saw her when she was heading to her room or to the library. A month before the christmas holidays this changed. I would often see her pacing up and down the hallway outside her accommodation and asked my friend what was up with her; people said she was just “stressed”. After weeks of this she just disappeared almost like she was never there, I don’t know what I thought had happened to her, I was too busy to really care. After the holidays I discovered that she had had a mental breakdown due to the shock of the work load. She didn’t tell anyone she was struggling and never visited the school councillors- she felt that was a sign of weakness. I found out she would be coming back the following year instead and that’s when I realised I needed to speak to someone- a lot of us did.

I’m 19 years old in my second year at university and have been having cognitive therapy sessions once a week since January of last year. I admitted to my family how much stress I was truly under whilst studying and was surprised at how supportive they were; for the first time since I started I was able to enjoy where I was studying and soak up how amazing the school was and the opportunity I had been given. I am so thankful to be able to study at this school and now I can fully appreciate it. Therapy doesn’t mean you’re crazy, it means that you care enough about your mental health to talk to someone, we can all learn from what happened to Alice.

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