Ariana V.
Photography by Ben Curry
Dear Reader,
Ariana V.’s letter includes experiences of self harm, suicidal attempts and ideation, and substance abuse. We advise those who may be triggered by these topics to exercise caution when reading this letter.
Sincerely, the IfYoureReadingThis Team
If you’re reading this, it’s okay to struggle and take time for your journey to a better life.
Coming into college I thought I could put everything that had happened in my past behind me. New environment, new people and a fresh start. I never thought I’d make it past the age of 16, and now I am 21. College was my new beginning; I thought getting away from traumatic memories and places would improve my mental health. And at first it did; I had a good group of friends and I was genuinely happy for once. But as with everything in life, people come and go and sometimes they leave you hurt and broken.
My first semester sophomore year at CC was one of the darkest times in my life. I felt alone and abandoned by everyone I considered a friend. I felt unloved and unwanted, and it made me believe that everything wrong in my life was my own fault. I felt like I didn’t deserve to live, so I tried to kill myself twice in the span of a couple days. The morning after my second attempt I can’t tell you how relieved and disappointed I was. I think, in my own diluted sense, this was my cry for help. I didn’t know how to show what I was feeling and ask for help in a socially acceptable way, so I kept it to myself.
Instead of finding ways to build myself back up after this cry for help, I discovered alcohol and the numbness it gave me to avoid my problems. It became my new way of coping with life and getting through each week. It allowed me to pretend that my problems didn’t exist, and ultimately, helped me survive. While relying on alcohol provided the escape I needed, the people in my life didn’t share my perspective and threatened me with negative consequences to convince me to stop. Because alcohol was my source of survival, I learned how to hide my behaviors and became a manipulative person because I didn’t want to disappoint others. But in turn, I disappointed myself.
I thought going on medication would make everything better. I could finally ‘prove’ in a way that I was sick. That I had issues and I wasn’t just faking it. I felt so proud of myself for finally being vocal and taking steps in the right direction. But I wasn’t addressing the true underlying issue. Medication could only do so much because I had let life burn me out. I thought it was school but even taking a semester off and focusing on being an EMT didn’t work. I had too much on my plate and while I didn’t realize it, I was beyond just coping with alcohol; I was addicted. I liked how it made me feel, or in more accurate terms my lack of having to feel.
The numerous hospital visits only caused me further torment, adding another traumatic event to my roster and another reason for avoidance. Medical professionals made me feel like everything was my own fault. The very people who were ‘trying’ to help me, were traumatizing me further and adding more reasons for an escape. I started feeling more like an animal than a person. And ultimately, these visits pushed me further into my addiction, making me want to be ‘bad enough’ by their standards to require real help. But what I came to realize was that nothing is ‘bad enough,’ until it kills you.
The only people who treated me like another human being were EMS personnel. They could relate to my experiences, they knew the pressure of college and living with other people’s traumas and deaths. It was the first time I felt heard, and it in a sense started me on my rocky and traumatic road to recovery in a twisted way. It reminded me that even in darkness there is light and at that moment that’s what I needed to keep living.
Some say it will take you to reach rock bottom to finally seek out the help you need and for me that was true. I had to get so close to the brink of death in order to save myself. I had to realize how it was affecting those around me, but more importantly how it was affecting me, to finally pick myself up and try to mend my broken pieces. It hasn’t been easy in any aspect, I still deal with repetitive traumatic memories that leave me feeling paralyzed. But now I have learned how to cope with those memories without self-destructing. And, even though the physical effects of my addiction are gone, the psychological effects are yet to be over with. My body forever keeps the score while my mind keeps the memory.
I think CC is making strides to try to improve mental health on campus, but nothing will ever change unless we change our mindset and reduce judgement. I am tired of being judged for my problems, but I will never stop sharing my experiences. I will continue to shout it from the rooftops as loud as I can because only by being completely vulnerable can you share your truths and open the door for others to find the courage to share theirs.
I am not going to lie and say that I am 100% recovered. I am nowhere near recovered and I never will be. Being in recovery means having relapses, having dark moments and going backwards. It doesn't mean you aren’t on the right path. It doesn’t mean you are a failure. You are growing and changing and you are worthy of help no matter what point of your journey you are in.
Please reach out for help, you are loved and you are worthy. Do not let others define you, do not rush your story. If you’re reading this, recovery is a road and it’s not linear. I’m in no way close to being recovered but I’m trying my hardest and that’s enough for me.
In closing,
I am enough as I am right now.
Ariana V., Colorado College ‘24
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