I’ve been watching the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why and remembering the period in my life when I read the book. I read it when I was in 8th grade. A very memorable time period of my life. When I say memorable I’m not saying that in a pleasant sense.

I was a popular kid in school. Well I guess I shouldn’t say “popular” because I didn’t mean that in a “I was very likable” sort-of way. I suppose what I really meant was infamous? Famed? Gossiped? I’m not sure what the right word is…

It’s hard to explain, or have anyone understand, what I was going through during that time period. I was in a very low place, depressed, and, at the time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know why I felt the way I felt. I didn’t know why looking at something so trivial would make me so emotional and burst out into tears. I didn’t know who to talk to about it. I didn’t know how to describe it. I didn’t know what I should be doing. But then I finally figured out a way to express it.

The idea came about when, I just happened to, stumble upon the movie “Virgin Suicides” on television one day. For some reason the entire premise of the movie stuck with me. But more importantly how the girls decided to handle their pain was what I got out of it. This movie was what put the idea of suicide, and an alternative way to handle the pain you feel, into my head. Then, from that I started reading books that resonated with me, and boy were there a few. I remember being at the bookstore (I can’t remember if it was Barnes and Noble or Borders) browsing the young adult book section, reading synopsis to synopsis of various book covers until I found one that I liked enough to read the whole book. I’m realizing now that a lot of those books were ones that dealt with “ways to handle you inner pain” or books that helped describe the pain or spoke about the pain these characters were dealing. You can now understand why the book 13 Reasons Why was a book I choose to read.

Before watching/reading these things I had no idea what I was going through. I didn’t realize that was depression. But I so desperately needed a way to handle it. And how I choose to handle it was by cutting. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time. I was also so unaware of the consequences of my actions. All in all I just really didn’t know much about mental illnesses or the stigma behind it (I mean cmon, I was 12 at the time). Cutting was a way for me to release the pain I felt inside – since I didn’t know any other way to deal with it. Seeing the blood come out of the cut was like the pain I was feeling at the time was exiting my mind and body. It was reliving and helped with dealing with my emotions and pain. I did it so openly at school but hid it at home. For some reason even though I didn’t know much about the mental health stigma, I knew that if my parents saw my cuts that they would have been so upset with me. But anyways, I did it at school and eventually someone told a guidance counselor about it and they, in turn, told my parents about it. I understand why my schoolmates did that, and I really appreciate them doing it, because who knows what would have happened if they hadn’t intervened. And just as I suspected my parents were pissed when they found out and they did not handle it well. I was on suicide watch for 3 days, removed from school, no phone calls, no internet, nothing – they threatened to send me back to the Philippines because of how “disgraceful my actions were to the family”.

Me being out of school for 3 days sparked some talk around the school. This is why I say infamous, or famed, or gossiped – whatever the proper word for it is. Upon coming back I was greeted with whispers and shooting eyes in my direction. Around halfway through the school day I see a girl handing out slips of paper – it had a message and the number for the suicide prevention line. You would think that her doing that was admirable and a good way to raise awareness to the topic but in reality it was all a joke. Maybe it did raise awareness, I don’t know, but doing that was almost a slap in the face. You’re joking around with a very serious problem and potentially someone’s life.

In a certain way I can kind-of relate to how Hannah felt, not necessarily being bullied or having a certain perception spread around about me, but her loneliness and desperate need to have someone be kind to her about how she felt. Because I felt that way for so long. It took many years after 8th grade for me to work on my depression and get help for it. Still, there are many days where my head is not in a good place.

There have been many discussions on the Netflix series. The advocates of it stating that the series brings awareness to teenage suicide issues. And the opponents stating it gives people ideas about suicide and triggers of the ones teetering on the edge as it is. I see both sides because I can relate to both sides. For the advocates, I can see how it brings awareness to the topic, in the sense that, it allows people see the signs of someone dealing with it. For the opponents, well – as you can see above I can relate to their stance. But I wish that, for the person teetering on the edge, watching this show or reading about this topic, that they will realize they’re not alone and what they’re feeling is ok – that tomorrow is going to be a new day and it will get better. I know, so cliche… But I needed someone to tell me that back then, so I hope that for someone reading this that my experience and words can help just a little bit.