My first suicide attempt

My name is Ingrid and I have depression. It's not easy living in a Hispanic household where mental health isn't really talked about. My whole life I've been hiding my feelings from my parents simply because I thought of myself as a burden. My parents work hard and I never wanted to be in the way of that. I had thought I was just being dramatic, had some silly feelings. That is until I went off to college and was far away from my family. For the first time, I was on my own. No watchful eyes anywhere, completely alone. A month into my college experience I was feeling heavily overwhelmed and that's when I had my first ever suicide attempt which landed me in the psychiatric hospital for a week. One night I decided to down some pills but panicked and called my friend. I talked to someone on the suicide hotline and was told to just eat something. I've had suicidal thoughts through most of middle school and high school, though I've never been alone to actually act on it. That is until college. Even then I didn't tell my parents until like two days into my stay. I've never felt so alone yet so understood until my stay at the hospital. It's eye-opening just how many people there are trying to get help yet are judged for it because of stereotypical portrayals on social media. When I first arrived at the hospital it was around 10 pm and I was terrified of what may lie ahead of me. I was eighteen at the time and was placed in the adult section. Since it was bedtime there were not many people out and about in the facility but what I did notice was that everyone was older than me. I had to go through the paperwork before I was taken to my room. Everything was a safety precaution, no locks on doors, no strings or laces, no phones. At first it al kind of seemed a little much for me because I live on my phone. That first night I cried myself to sleep, feeling as alone as ever in a place that frightened me. The reality was that I knew that I needed help which is why I agreed to go but that didn’t make it any easier. The next day I tried to stay in bed all day but unfortunately, the psychiatrist scolded me because I’m here to grow and get help not to hide away in my assigned room. Reluctantly I stepped out but didn’t socialize with any of the other patients. I am naturally a quiet person and being in a strange place surrounded by strangers did not help me at all. I found myself drawn to an isolated corner of the room by the puzzles. That’s where I spent most of my time for the first few days of my stay. Every day at various times of the day there were groups that people would attend. I didn’t attend but it was a time I looked forward to because everyone else went. I was alone at those times finally relaxing and letting my mind wander to the outside world. I could never fully relax when others were around, I was too self-conscious and felt as if I were being judged all the time. Ironically this was the last place I’d be judged since everyone was here for one reason or another. My mind however did not process it like that. I was the only eighteen year old there and interacting with others seemed like the worst possible scenario for me. However, as time passed I came to find out that others had some interesting stories of things in their lives and how they came to find themselves at the hospital. That’s when I realized that I was no different than any of them. Who better to understand you than the people going through something similar.