Before, when I heard about suicide and depression, it always seemed like it was happening far away. Sad and dark, but never close enough to pose a threat to me. If you ask anyone, they'll say I'm a happy kid, always smiling and positive, never down. Though I have been through tough times and challenges, I always persevered. Yet through those tough times, I had always felt that my negative emotions were a burden to others, so I kept them hidden. Little did I know, that burying your emotions doesn't mean they go away.

After my father's cancer diagnosis, and working through the pain, the chemo and recovery stage needed to begin.  My dad was often sick, leading to him sleeping and being upstairs often. By March, with two more months of chemo to go, we were all looking on the bright side. I turned 17, started dating my now boyfriend, and feeling better about how my life was going. Then the shut down for Covid-19 occured in Michigan, and flipped all I knew on its head. The way quarantine occurred caused my family to be split into three separate households. My brother Cameron was at my birth moms with my sister Brooklynn, I was at my dad’s with my step mom, and Kayden, Karson and Kylin were at my grandparents. I was away from people who mattered to me the most. In the beginning, I never would have thought that I wouldn't be seeing them for 6 months. During this isolation with my parents, it was very hard for me to see my father so sick and angry at his situation. On most days it was just my mom and I moving around the house, watching TV, painting, and roaming around. As the weeks turned into months the isolation from the rest of my family began to get to me.  Many times we would get into arguments or fights over little, unnecessary things. 

The problem was that I never told my parents about how I felt. I never told anyone how I truly felt. So I kept it all buried inside, all the anger and pain. All this emotion began to build up, and spill over into my actions. I would get so frustrated that I would end up being mean to my step mom. The little arguments would fuel the fire already burning inside me, and I would hold onto my harsh feelings. Letting them swirl around in my mind, controlling my thoughts. Many nights, alone in my silent room, I would cry realizing how I was treating those closest to me. I let every little thing get to me, but the worst was yet to come. 

Towards the middle of May my father had finished his last chemo cycle, and my brother Kayden's birthday was in a week. My mental state was improving, and I thought it was all in the past. The day of Kayden's birthday my boyfriend Jon came over to visit, and we sat outside talking just enjoying each other’s company. Seeing him helped my feelings of isolation and negativity about myself. Halfway through our conversation my mom asked me to come inside. As I came into the house both of my parents looked at me.

My mother in a hushed voice said, ¨we are leaving, tell Jon he needs to leave.¨

The confusion on my face was clear, and in a puzzled tone I asked, 

¨Why?¨ Her next words would change that day forever.

¨We are going to get the kids.¨

I gasped and immediately ran to tell my boyfriend the news. He cocked his head to the side, as I panted and told him the news. With tears threatening to spill over I told him goodbye and hopped into the car. The entire drive there I was on the verge of crying, distracting myself with the music on the radio. The excitement coming from all of us was palpable. As we pulled up to the driveway we were practically racing out of the car. My mom threw open the door, my father and I close behind her, sprinting through the house. Tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, and love was all around. I felt like I was on cloud nine. That night though, a wave of sadness crashed into me. I had gotten my three siblings back, so why was I still so sad? It hit me then, I was still missing more. I was missing Brooklynn and Cameron, but especially my mom. That night, after everyone fell asleep, I cried till my head pounded and my body ached. I awoke the next morning, eyes puffy and red, wondering if it was ever going to get better. 

Soon July was upon us, and summer was beginning to come. We kept busy throughout the day, but at night my mind wandered to those dark and scary places, though no one knew the turmoil I felt inside. My mother and I's arguments were happening more frequently, and I was taking out my pain on my sibling. Yelling at them over insignificant things, staying in my room alone, closing myself off from the world. This all came to a head when my mom found out she was pregnant again. We had ended up going to my aunt Janessa's house and hanging out, watching movies and building puzzles. During the second movie my mom abruptly got up and went into the bathroom. When she came back out she whispered something into my aunt's ear and quickly returned to the room. I noticed these events and immediately became suspicious. We arrived home later that day, and while roaming the house I noticed my mom was laying on the couch having a phone call with my aunt. When I came closer towards the living room I began to eavesdrop on the conversation, and from the bits and pieces of the conversation I heard, I knew she was pregnant. I stormed into my room furious, and sat there fuming until night fell. While the rest of the kids were being put to bed upstairs, I wrote my mom a note, snuck into the kitchen, and placed it on the counter for her to find. As footsteps got closer to the stairs I sprinted back into my room, jumped into my bed, and laid waiting. The note I had written was flooded with the anger I felt towards the whole situation. I wrote that I was 17. That I wasn't dumd or deaf, and I knew. For in my head she was being obvious with her phone conversations, and thought that I didn't understand what was going on. When in reality, that conversation wasnẗ meant for my ears, I was the one eavesdropping and sneaking around. As I lay in my bed trying to fall asleep, my mom came into my room.

¨What is this note about?¨ she said. 

¨I'm done being treated like a stupid 17 year old girl¨ I retorted.

She then said in a harsh tone, ¨some things aren't told to you yet, because they still need to be figured out. Other people still have to deal with the information.¨ 

That is when it hit me, that I was in the wrong. I never took a second to look at it from her point of view. This would be her fourth child, and for a person who gets C-sections, the pregnancy could be dangerous not only for her but for the baby as well. I was stunned into silence as she stormed out of my room. The tears began to stream down my face, soaking my pillow, as I realized what I had done. How could I have been so selfish? How could I have been so mean? Why did I keep going down this path of anger? While all these emotions flew through my head, one thing became clear to me. If I was only going to cause pain and hurt to those I loved, then they would be better off without me. I grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write what would become a suicide note. I wrote that I was sorry for who I am, that I was even more sorry for who I had become. I continued saying that life was just too hard, and that all I wanted was for the pain to stop. To my family, I wrote that I loved them and that I would always love them, and that I was so sorry for the pain I had caused. To my boyfriend, I wrote that he had made me the happiest person alive, and that he would be better off dating someone who didn't have to stay six feet away. To everyone, I wrote that this had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with me. I was the problem, the issue, the source of the suffering. After writing the note I made a decision, that in the end would save my life. I would wait until tomorrow night, and if I didn't get a sign that I should live, I would overdose. I put the note under my bed and cried myself to sleep. The next day, while I was in my room, my mom walked in and stood in the doorway. 

¨What is wrong?¨ she asked.

¨Nothing is wrong¨ I mumbled.

She walked into the kitchen and came back with a sheet of lined paper, my handwriting all over it, my note. 

¨If nothing is wrong then why did you write this?¨ she said as she held it up. ¨So what is wrong.¨

¨Nothing.¨ I responded, and pushed past her and walked into the bathroom. She followed me into the bathroom, still holding the note.

¨Well it has to be something, because why else would my daughter write a suicide note?¨ she said, her voice rising. Then she asked ¨is it because I'm pregnant?¨ 

¨No!¨ I screamed.

¨Then why is it Ryley?¨ she asks. ¨I find out that I'm pregnant and then I find a suicide note from you!¨

¨That's not why I wrote it!¨

¨Then why? Because Jon couldn't come over?¨

I was furious then, I slammed the bathroom door and sank to the floor sobbing. She threw it back open and walked in.

¨If it's not any of those, then tell me why!¨

I finally snapped, ¨because I felt bad!¨ Then the room went quiet. I continued choking the words out, ¨I felt so horrible for being so selfish, and I keep hurting people and being so mean.¨ 

As I sat there crying, she grabbed my arms and pulled me up to her, wrapping me up in a tight hug. I just kept repeating that I felt bad and that I was bad, and selfish, and garbage. 

My mom looked at me and softly said, ¨you need to let it go.¨ She continued saying that I was holding on to little things that in the end didn't matter. All the small fights we had, the times I yelled at my siblings, were forgotten by them in a day. I on the other hand let them consume me and my thoughts. Instead of discussing the issue, I would keep it and use it to fuel my already self deprecating thoughts, letting it assist in my depression. I stayed there interlocked in her arms for a long time, breathing and finally letting it all go. All the anger and frustration, released with every breath released or tear shed. 

Though the suffering and dark places this led me to, I look at it as a stepping stone in my personal growth. I had to learn to let the small unimportant things go, and focus on the things I have the power to control. I couldn't control my dad's health, or quarantine, these things were beyond my power to change. Additionally I learned that burying your emotions does not lead to happiness. Discussing how you feel, knowing that it was okay to feel that way, and then releasing it, not letting it hold on to you. Knowing now that the other side of my emotions, the non-happy ones, isn't a burden on others. In the beginning it was tough, but now I know what keeping the negative feelings inside does to a person, and what it can lead to. Today I try to be more open with how I'm truly feeling, and let the small stuff go. I’ve learned now that, “people cry not because they are weak, it’s because they have been strong for too long” - Johnny Depp