Gregory C.
Photography by Savannah Mitchell
Before reading this letter, we'd like for you to know it discusses Gregory C’s experience with suicidal ideation. If you think that reading about this will be triggering for you, we encourage you to take a pause before reading this letter, center yourself, and prepare any resources you may need to access after reading it. If you'd rather not read this letter, we encourage you to read a letter on a different topic, such as Dana Q’s letter. If you're reading this, your feelings are valid.
If you are reading this, you probably know pain.
Whether it be the pain of a loved one or pain of your own. Physical pain, mental pain, or some other type of pain entirely, I think we’ve all experienced pain in some form. For some reason though, when we talk about pain we tend to think only of physical injury, and not any of the myriad types of pain that we run into in our lives.
I’ve never broken a bone, I’ve never been seriously hit or assaulted, nor have I ever gotten into any sort of physical accident. Despite that, I’d say I know pain quite well. When I think of pain I think of the pain of being compared to an exceptional older sister and having my own friends prefer her over me, the pain of seeking validation from those around you only to get a metaphorical knife in your back, or the pain of losing what you thought would be the rest of your life.
My parents, loving as they are, used to tell me never to cry for pain that wasn’t physical. Yet crying was all I could do when I sat in my therapist’s office in my junior year of high school, when I told him that yes, I was a threat to my own life. At that point the pain I’d faced was so intense that it had completely broken me, I felt so hopeless that I saw no way forward besides ending my own life.
But here I am today, writing this letter because since then there’s something I’ve learned about pain I’d like to share, and that’s that you’re never alone in what you’re feeling.
When I was committed to a hospital for depression and suicidal ideation, I met all kinds of people experiencing pain similar to or the same as mine. Because of that they were not only able to understand me, but also help me heal my own pain; in a way, knowing pain can be healing. It’s what creates empathy, and what allows us to relate to others on a personal level. At the very least, I know my own pain is what’s allowed me to understand others as a friend and stand up for those around me as an advocate.
Another good thing is that pain is temporary. It might take months–possibly years–but with enough time you’ll find yourself at a point where you can look back on your pain as a distant memory. Maybe you’ll even reach a point where you can use your pain to empower others, just as I hope this letter of mine will do.
I’ve gotten to that point, and I know that you too will do the same.
You are leagues stronger than you think are, and whatever you’re going through I promise that it will pass. As someone who’s been to the brink himself, I can say that no one is ever truly alone and that help is always available. It only takes one step to reach out, and I know you have what it takes to make that first step.
Gregory C., Arizona State University ‘22
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