The Traverse City senior at Central Michigan University uses those words as her personal mantra, a reason to keep moving forward following a fleury of life-altering changes: being fired from a dream job as a camp counselor, being raped by a neighbor at 17 and attempting to take her own life at 20.

 

When she speaks of her life experiences, Wilson does so with a determination in her eyes and a soft but steady voice. She doesn’t shy away from the grittier experiences she’s been through. In fact, she is working on a memoir she hopes to publish about her experiences prior to her attempt and life inside in-patient therapy at Pine Rest Christian Mental Health Hospital.

 

“I didn’t realize then, but my best days (then) was probably more of a two out of ten on how you’re supposed to feel,” Wilson said. “It’s a big struggle for people, especially young people, for them to say ‘I don’t feel OK; I feel paranoid, I feel sad, I feel anxious’.”

 

Wilson isn’t alone.

 

Roughly 43.8 million, or 18.5 percent, of Americans struggle with managing mental illness according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness. Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death for Americans, according Center for Disease Control published a report in 2016.

 

These numbers also hit close to home.

 

A reported 83 students attempted suicide in 2016, according to the CMU Police Department.

 

For many, away from home for the first time, mental illness readily dealt with in hometowns or familiar locations can be exacerbated at college. For reasons stemming from anxiety to bipolar disorder, bad break-ups to sexual assault, a population of students will attempt suicide at least once at CMU.

 

The vast majority will survive. Some will suffer invisible scars. Others use their journey into darkness as a way to light a path for others.

 

These are some of their stories.

SADIE CLAYTON

HOMETOWN: Riverview, Michigan

MAJOR: Forensic Science

 

Sadie Clayton, 21, of Riverview, attempted suicide in Kulhavi Hall on Jan. 29, 2017.

​

“I broke down and had tunnel vision,” she said, “I ran to the room, slammed the door and took as

many pills as I could.”

 

While her decision to take a large amount of paroxetine, a Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor

(SSRI), was in the heat of the moment, Clayton said many factors lead to a deep sense of dread

and a burning desire to end it at any cost.

​

“At the first semester of my sophomore year, my classes were stressing me out because I was

getting C’s in some of my classes,” she said, “My grandparents fund my schooling and they implied that I would lose my funding if I did not get As and Bs.”

 

She had a crippling fear of disappointing others to the point of having anxiety attacks over getting B’s in her classes.

 

The summer before, Clayton got into a car accident that resulted in the other driver getting injured and legal issues.

 

“I’m not very comfortable going into detail about that accident,” she said. “I feel awful about it.”

 

She said she was glad that it was settled with the other driver and the insurance, but it weighed heavily on her mind.

 

In addition to paroxetine, she was taking prozac, another SSRI, for her depression before the attempt.

 

She said the final issue was breaking up with her boyfriend.

 

A 2016 study found in The Journal of Crisis Intervention and Suicide Prevention found that those who have unresolved problems in their relationships are more inclined to have suicidal tendencies.

 

The two met during her second semester while playing board games with a group of friends. They became a couple after knowing each other for a short time and learning of their shared interest in both board and video gaming.

 

The relationship was strong for about six months before their relationship took a rocky turn.

“He would act very distant, not say much or respond to texts,” she said, “He would always tell me that ‘everything’s fine’.”

 

She felt like her depression and anxiety led to the rift between them. She said one way she dealt with depression was clinging ever more tightly to her significant other.

 

She found out that he would say that she was putting a lot of stress on him to their mutual friends when he had been drinking. At that point, he would still assure her that their relationship was in a safe place.

 

The couple stayed together through the Christmas season, where they spent it with both of their families.

 

“During Christmas, he set up my present so it was in a box that was in several other boxes,” she said, “Once I got to the main gift, it was a necklace that had a heart within a heart, with rhinestones on the outside heart.”

 

She said she was overjoyed and thought the rift had closed.

 

“This is proof that I have faith in our relationship,” she said he told her.

 

A month later, he came to her Kulhavi room, a night etched in her memory.

 

“I was having a really bad depression day that day,” she said. “I knew that something was wrong, my spidey-sense was going off like crazy.”

 

He hugged her and asked her to walk outside. He began to talk about the differences they had and said that he wanted to break up.

 

Clayton said her emotions reached a boiling point, and she started to break down. After she calmed down, the two talked about what led to that point.

 

She said her anxiety and depression became too much for him. He kept saying he loved her, but she kept asking if he did, why is he leaving her. He began to cry and left,  saying he couldn’t do it anymore.

 

“He didn’t let on that anything was wrong,” she said. “At that point, I kept thinking to myself, ‘The only one who cares is abandoning me.’”

 

At that point, she ran to her room. She texted everyone saying “goodbye” and that. “She can’t take it anymore.” This included the now ex-boyfriend.

 

“He ran up and called 911,” she said.“He kept crying and saying ‘I love you’ while I weakly resisted him.”

 

Clayton still has the voicemail from the ex-boyfriend that begged her not to hurt herself.

 

She was transferred to McLaren Medical Center, where they gave her a charcoal solution that made her throw up the paroxetine she took.

 

The National Center for Biotechnology Information studied the effects of a paroxetine overdose on an 18-year-old who attempted suicide with the drug in 2005. They found that the person who overdosed was able to recover without any kind of lasting damage. Possible side effects of an overdose include vomiting and seizures.

 

Clayton said that the hospital staff was rude to her because they yelled at her and assured her that the charcoal solution that made her throw up the pills would do the opposite.

 

The ex-boyfriend and their friends were there to make sure she was okay.

 

She was released from the hospital two days later. She started to see a counselor at the CMU, who she still sees.

 

After her attempt, Clayton said her responses from the university varied.

She said her residence hall director would regularly check up on her to see if she was doing OK and the emergency therapist who referred her to the counseling center was understanding and kind.

 

Clayton said she wasn’t pleased with how the university administration dealt with the situation. She received a paper that had the dorm rules on it and learned that some of the questions she was asked CMU-prepared questions by the hall director.

 

The Residence Hall Policy at CMU states, “If a resident engages, or threatens to engage in, self-injurious behavior that negatively impacts or is disruptive to the living and learning environment of others, the resident may be moved to another room, either temporarily or permanently, or be removed entirely from university housing, and possibly from the university.”

 

“It’s ridiculous because it punishes those who have problems with self-harm and depression,” Clayton said.

 

She was able to finish that school year living in Kulhavi.

 

After meeting with her long-term counselor at CMU’s Counseling Center, she developed a plan to help her get back on track with her studies as a forensic science major and life. She registered with Student Disabilities for her depression.

 

According to the National Institute for Mental Health, most colleges offer free or low-cost mental health services to students. This includes counseling for people who need it or academic help, such as the accommodations offered by Student Disabilities for those with chronic depression.

 

After that year, she was put on academic dismissal due to missing classes while dealing with her depression during the aftermath of her suicide attempt, which she unsuccessfully tried to appeal.

 

“I take some of the blame for this, because I didn’t talk a lot to my professors about what happened,” Clayton said.“Some were understanding of my situation and tried to help me where they could, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from being kicked out.”

 

She said she could not withdraw from her classes that semester because she wanted to keep her financial aid.

 

When she tried to appeal it by talking with someone from the admissions office, she said the person she talked to was rude. He told her that she could not get an appointment because they don’t give out a lot of appointments for certain circumstances. She also said she lost her chance to appeal.

 

A year later, with the help of her therapist, she is working to get back into CMU. She said that she should be returning in the fall semester.

 

“I’m taking this year to heal, find the right medication, make my case and return to finish up my forensic science major,” she said.

 

Currently, she said she is seeing if a guy she met before will be good for her. She said that they’re both music nerds and looking for a relationship, which gives her a small amount of hope.

 

“My goal, in a perfect world, would be to graduate, find a nice house or flat and settle down,” she said, “I would also like to try eSports, since I play a lot of League of Legends.”

 

Clayton said she thinks that the future is always foggy.

 

“When you have such a severe depression, you don’t know if you’ll live that long,” she said. “It makes you wonder if you’ll survive it.”

 

MITCHELL KUKULKA

HOMETOWN: Jackson, Michigan

MAJOR: Journalism

 

He had always considered himself a shy, somewhat withdrawn boy.

 

Mitchell Kukulka, 22, of Jackson still considers himself reserved, but he also considers himself

something else: a survivor.

​

Following being sexually assaulted in 2015, Kukulka attempted to take his own life. He doesn’t

remember much of the action, the period of time still to this day blacked out in his memory, but what

he remembers is waking up.

​

He remembers the date: Feb. 10, 2016. He remembers the time: 2 a.m. He doesn’t remember

much else.

​

“That particular block of time, it’s all hazy,” Kukulka said. “I remember (attempting suicide), but I don’t remember what I was feeling before then. That was the tipping point in a mental breakdown I was going through that started in early December and escalated until that point.

 

“After that point when I couldn’t really hide anymore that something was wrong with me, that was when I opened up to my family about things, going to therapy and taking medication.”

 

Kukulka said he couldn’t pinpoint when he first started becoming aware of being depressed, but that it was a feeling that seemed to be always present. He could go weeks without talking to anyone during high school, he said, even his own parents and sister.

 

It wasn’t that he was sad or moody, Kukulka added, just that he appreciated solace when he could get it. Combined with the fact he professes his family “isn’t good at talking,” Kukulka said there wasn’t much of a need to be boisterous as a kid.

 

It wasn’t until later, his sophomore year of college he could point to a reason why that might be —  he was diagnosed with major depression and anxiety. For him, his depression/anxiety is cyclical, hitting him worse during the winter months than in the summer.It makes it harder for Kukulka to be in social setting, complete homework on time and causes him to hyperfocus on his perceived shortcomings.

 

The hyperfocusing presents itself like a Trojan Horse, Kukulka said. What might present itself as constructive criticism sticks in his mind morphs into overanalyzing each action and reaction Kukulka had throughout the day; the more he thinks about his day, the more he criticizes himself.

 

The more he does that, Kukulka said, the worst he feels. The only way to break out of this cycle is to realize what he thinks isn’t always the reality of the situation.

 

“You just have to realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you,” Kukulka said. “(Being hypercritical) shrinks your worldview, distorting how other people think of you versus what you think they think of you — and that can negatively affect other aspects of your life.”

 

As he got older, he said, the bouts of anxiety and depression worsened as life got more complicated. Despite seeing several doctors over the years, the coping tips Kukulka learned never quite stuck. Instead, he was left to figure out how to manage his episodes on his own which further lead to isolation.

 

In the days after his 2016 suicide attempt, Kukulka said he had trouble telling anyone about the event, let alone reconciling with himself the magnitude of what he tried to do. It him months to even be able to say what he had done out loud.

 

But he could do it through text, which he did, the night after. Waiting in Foust Hall, the on-campus medical facility at CMU, Kukulka texted a friend as he waited to see a counselor. He told her he was a suicide risk, but not that he had attempted suicide.

 

It’s taken two years, multiple therapy sessions and a trial-and-error of figuring out coping strategies for Kukulka to be where he is today. He conceded that it’s not easy, that there isn’t truly ever recovering from suicidal thoughts or tendencies, but that there are ways to manage it  — which he’s mindful of everyday.

 

“The stupid analogy I use a lot is that without medication, depression can kind of feel like a bottomless pit that you can fall into and never really get out of,” Kukulka said. “Medication didn’t take that away, but it did give the pit a bottom. You could get depressed, but there was a limit.

 

“You couldn’t completely fall into despair.”

 

Off medication since November 2017, Kukulka takes care to keep that mindset with him — life can be bad, but there’s only so bad that it can get. He’s mindful about suicide — which he said he doesn’t think of much anymore — and takes care not to undersell the severity of suicide and suicidal idealization to people who might be grappling with it.

 

“Things like bad grades or a stressful week don’t seem as severe in the aftermath of putting the cap on a month-long mental breakdown with an attempted suicide,” Kukulka said. “I’m not a different person that before (the suicide attempt), but it’s an experience I went through that I survived and have worked to better myself since then.”

 

Kukulka will keep bettering himself his whole life, he said, as he doesn’t believe his anxiety or depression will ever go away. He knows he can fight, however, and that’s what he intends to do.

 

His coping mechanisms include taking walks when he feels overwhelmed or using humor to remind Kukulka of the futility of things. He acknowledged that due to the spectrum of anxiety and depression, each person’s coping mechanisms are different.

 

For the time being, this is what works for him, he said. This is what he will continue to do to fight — and win — against relapsing.

 

“Suicidal thoughts can make you put yourself in a bubble and limit your worldview,” Kukulka said. “The only way to get out of that is to not let yourself fall into that hole — which is obviously easier said than done.

 

“Life goes on. The world keeps spinning. The way you feel now, by how brain chemistry works, isn’t how your always going to feel and things can get better.”

BROOKE WILSON

HOMETOWN: Traverse City, Michigan

MAJOR: Elementary Education, Language Arts specialization

 

Being active in her sorority Alpha Sigma Alpha, volunteering at the Humane Animal Treatment

Society in Mount Pleasant, studying to become a yogi and working on her memoir keeps Wilson

busier than she’s ever been — and that’s the way she likes it.

 

Wilson speaks candidly about her experiences with type II bipolar disorder, being sexually assaulted

and her time in in-patient therapy. She hopes to be not an inspiration but a message — it’s

possible to get through this, whatever a person’s ‘this’ might be.

 

But it took a while to reach this point in her life.

 

It was in freshman year of high school, Wilson said, during the middle of making a batch of

brownies with her mother when she first told someone about her struggle with depression. She had

been hesitant, due to feeling like “everyone would know” as Wilson’s family was from a close knit community.

 

“I just started to cry,” she said. “I don’t want to say we didn’t do anything, but we didn’t take action on how I was feeling — partially because at the time, I couldn’t put a name to (the feelings) like ‘Oh, this is depression’.”

 

“I was just going through the motion telling myself that it would get better — I just had to find friends or find something to fill that void I don’t think was filled for a long time.”

 

Her mother was retired but active in the local school district, doing “tons of charity work.” Her father was a manager of Cherry Capital Airport in Traverse City. Wilson perceived her struggles with depression as a “burden on her family” and their otherwise pristine local reputation.

 

Things got better — for awhile. Her junior year of high school, Wilson was diagnosed with mild depression.

 

Wilson found solace in her family’s summer lake house near Pontiac, Michigan. Each summer Wilson and her family would go there for several days, and during that time, Wilson developed a relationship with a neighbor a few years older than her.

 

That changed the end of summer, between Wilson’s junior and senior year of high school. Days before the family went to leave their property for the summer, Wilson was raped.

 

It was her neighbor, the 22-year-old man, who Wilson had fallen in puppy-love with earlier in the summer.

 

Wilson never told anyone, instead choosing to internalize it. She felt guilty in that moment, she said, wondering — why her? Why then? What did she do to deserve it? She now knows, and is fiercely adamant regarding anyone who’s been raped, that there was “absolutely nothing she could have done.”

 

“I didn’t tell my parents until last year, which at that point was beyond the range of reporting it (to the authorities),” Wilson said. “But (the rape) took my mental health to a whole different level.”

 

But in that moment, during her tail end of attending a Catholic primary education all her life, Wilson said she “unholy” and “condemned” — going so far as to say she felt like she was “the biggest slut in the world.”

 

That was the first time the phrase “I should kill myself” filtered into her head, Wilson said.

She shut down. She had started cutting herself. Wilson attempted to reach out and make friends, but she was still struggling with her major depressive disorder on top of her undiagnosed-at-the-time PTSD.

 

In an effort to get away from it all, from the neighbor and from friends who she claims blamed Wilson for her rape, she went to college. Wilson said she chose Central due to its small-town feel while still being far enough away to be comfortable essentially “starting over.”

 

Wilson said things “got better,” and she joined CMU’s marching band and began making friends.

 

“I thought ‘well that (depressive) time in my life is over, I can move on’,” she said. “But sophomore year I was just really down — literally. I would lay in bed all day.”

 

Between freshman and sophomore year of college, however, Wilson’s mental health once again took a nosedive. She was fired from her “dream job” as a counselor at a music camp. Again, thoughts of suicide filtered back into her brain.

 

She went from being a self-professed A-student to never leaving her room. Wilson said there would be days where she wouldn’t leave bed, opting to binge on Netflix shows and junk food. She would lie to her parents about all the work she did in the classes she didn’t attend. She stopped talking to her previous group of friends.

 

She admits, she didn’t know where the behavior was coming from, just that it was easier to give in to never attending class than seek additional help. It was when she began hearing voices did Wilson begin to suspect that perhaps depression and PTSD weren’t the only things she was battling.

 

Wilson describes the voices as starting around the same time as when she and a roommate began watching the television horror anthology “American Horror Story.” The voice of the actors in the show — Finn Wittrock, who predominantly plays antagonists each season — became the voice of her suicidal thoughts.

 

His deep drawl, she said, would list off all the things wrong with her and constantly tell her all the ways she wasn’t good enough to keep living.

 

“I kept watching the show because I’d never really had a best friend before, and I wanted to keep my friends,” Wilson said. “Some of the episodes would really bother me, mental healthwise. I would just lay in bed thinking about the episodes — and I would hear his voice.

 

“That’s when I knew something was really wrong; I was hearing a voice in my head that wasn’t my own, telling me to kill myself.”

 

The auditory hallucinations began to couple with extreme bouts of paranoia. By her junior year, Wilson was terrified to even leave her apartment. She said she needed to have her roommate walk Wilson to her car whenever she could muster the courage to leave the house.

 

That was when she made the decision to attempt suicide — Nov. 10. 2016. Before she could, however, Wilson was found by her boyfriend sitting in the tub surrounded by pills and a razor.

 

He called Wilson’s parents. She was admitted into Pine Crest Christian Hospital around 4 a.m. Nov. 12. Following being admitted, Wilson said it was like getting the help she needed for the first time in forever.

 

“It’s not like what you would think a mental institute would be,” she said. “I was terrified to go, because what you see in the movies is a place that’s not OK to go to. But (Pine Crest) had different classes every day like on how to manage your emotions properly or how to talk (about your mental illness) with your parents, and you could go to church if you wanted to — everyone was just trying to really help you.”

 

Now, Wilson uses her story as both a teaching tool and a way to look back on the person she has grown into during her lifelong fight with bipolar II, anxiety, depression and PTSD. When she has free time, she volunteers speaking to parents about adoption — which she was, by her own parents — and mental illness in children both adopted and non.

 

She also is kept busy by her trained therapy dog, a Shichon/Shih-Tzu mix named Trixie, who Wilson calls “kind of a spoiled brat.”

 

To give back to the hospital, which she credits with saving her life, Wilson has started a GoFundMe page and raised enough money to buy radios for the 12 rooms in the facility. She’s also turning her diary, which she has diligently kept since first noticing her depression as a teenager, into a public blog for others to read and gain insight into her story.

 

Her life view is somewhat of a mix of Kukulka’s and Clayton’s.

 

Suicide is a part in Wilson’s life story, but not all of it; if she can help another person struggling with idealization or tendencies like hers, then Wilson said she will do all she can to help.

 

Several people who have read her blog online have reached out to her, and Wilson has talked other young adults through getting help and reaching out to the appropriate people for continued treatment.

 

“There’s this stigma around mental health that it’s not a true disease because you can’t outwardly see it,” Wilson said. “If you have a broken arm, people can see that you’ve broken your arm. But if you’ve broken your brain, people can’t say ‘Oh, you broke your brain? How did you do that’?

 

“There might not be a how or a when — it might just happen.”