Ben Y.
Photography by Aneesa Wermers
Please note: Before reading my letter, I’d like to let you know that in it I describe my experience with self-harm and suicidal thoughts and actions. If you believe you will find this content triggering, I encourage you to read one of the other letters on IfYoureReadingThis.org, or to prepare to access any support systems or resources you may find helpful.
If you’re reading this, I want you to know that it is not your struggles but how you face them that defines you.
When I was six, I was misdiagnosed with ADHD. The medicine I was put on stimulated my high beta stress brain waves which gave me intense anxiety and blocked my ability to feel empathy.
Empathy is key to making friendships but this wouldn’t prove problematic until I transferred high schools freshman year. At my new school, my altered brain chemistry caused me to struggle to make friends. I'd sit with sports teammates at lunch but I always felt no one would notice or care if I wasn’t there. I desperately tried to connect with others but for every attempt, there was rejection. For every hangout, there was a text ignored the next day. As high school went on, my anxieties and isolation worsened along with my self-loathing because I thought it was my fault I was alone even though it was due to the medication.
As my self-hatred and agony increased, so did my resolve to improve my situation. I began writing symbols on my hands to remind me of things to do. One was a Q and a + overlapping which meant ask more questions. Another was a large O2 to tell me to breathe more and calm down. And when my suicidal ideation and parasuicidal activities worsened, I began to write a bat or jedi symbol to give me the strength to get through the day.
The symbols were not enough though and on March 14, 2016 I tried to end my life. Although the symbols didn’t prevent the attempt, they did help me delay it through a year and a half of suffering and worsening circumstances. The fact that I fought the darkness as long as I did is something that is worth smiling about.
Unfortunately, the suicide attempt wouldn’t mark the end of my problems. In 2017, we discovered what the ADHD medicine was doing to me and so I was taken off it immediately. This made me feel like my mind was melting and there was a maelstrom of chaos in my skull. My dad one day asked me to do a simple five-minute drive to pick something up for him but when I got in the car I felt so unhinged I was terrified to be behind the wheel. I sat there in the driveway for 20 minutes unsure of what to do but finally, I turned the car off and went inside to tell my dad how much I was struggling with withdrawal. This decision proved to be an invaluable source of support from my parents.
Although I got off the medication and a year later began college, I still was fighting many battles. I was consumed by fears and apathy as I struggled with general and social anxiety disorder, and major depressive disorder. I tried to fight against this darkness with meditation, mantras, working out, and surrounding myself with friends but my situation did not improve until I committed to serious therapy.
In April 2020 of my sophomore year, I started my third attempt in five years at therapy but this time chose a therapist who would push me to grow. I didn’t want to be just listened to; instead, I wanted to be challenged with goals. We’d figure out ways to fight my anxieties by doing what scared me and develop more healthy mindsets by working through my problematic cognitions. This marked a big moment for me as I wasn’t just trying to solve my problems as they arose but actively working on them every day, head-on.
As my confidence and feelings of joy improved over the year and a half of therapy, I also faced my darkness in one additional way: I began to use it to help others. I started mentoring freshmen and being open about my struggles. I was not just facing my challenges but started to become the person I needed when I was younger. I began to see my pain as a gift I could use to help others suffering.
Today, I no longer struggle with those mental disorders and I can confidently say I enjoy being Ben. This didn’t happen in one day but instead eight years. It took a year and a half of therapy, 40+ symbols, lots of self-care including mantras and meditation, the support of family and friends, and much more.
I used to think my pain and self-hatred was a part of who I am, and that my story is one of suffering. I was wrong. My darkness doesn’t define me, it never did; what matters is when things were at their worst, I stood tall and faced my problems. I have no shame in what I went through but immense pride in how I handled it.
So go out and face your struggles head-on, work hard to make your life better, and whether you are successful now or eight years from now, wear your heart on your sleeve knowing you're trying. Take pride in your efforts to conquer your darkness.
For now, let me leave you with the quote that inspired me throughout the years
“There's no shame in fear . . . what matters is how we face it.”
Ben Y., Boston College
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