The thing about being alive is that there isn’t a control group for you. As a person living, you only have your own experiences to base things on. Yes, you can learn from others and hear what other people’s lives are like, but it isn’t the same. If you go to eat some chips that have a weird texture, you can try some from a different brand to confirm that the first batch was stale. You can’t do that with life.
This is something I’ve always struggled with and is definitely the reason why it took so long for me to realize the extent of my depression, anxiety, and more. “People get sad” I’d hear, and just assume that it was what I was experiencing. It really wasn’t until my late college years that I started to realize just how different my internal experience was regarding emotions and suicidal ideation. There’s a relatively common “joke” in some parts of the internet that resonates with a lot of people and has been the impetus for a significant number of people to start seeking help for themselves. It has several different versions, but the “punchline” is always the following: a therapist saying that the average number of times a person thinks about suicide a day is zero. The reason it is so prevalent and important is because, to a lot of people, this image online is the first time they realize that they are struggling as much as they are. I haven’t thought about suicide since coming to Karis.
I am incredibly happy that my journey led me to Karis. I truly cannot express how much it means to me to be here.
My senior year of college perfectly coincided with Covid-19 hitting the US. While many people suddenly struggled with their schoolwork and motivation, it actually brought upon a minor blessing to me. Colleges became significantly more accommodating almost overnight, giving students flexibility and leeway that was unheard of before. This was great for me, because even though the pandemic was worsening my mental health, if it didn’t happen, I almost certainly would have flunked all of my classes that semester. My depression, anxiety, and dysphoria were affecting me so significantly that I wasn’t going to classes even before they started going online. Suicidal ideation was constant, and I wasn’t doing anything about it. It was during this time that I finally broke down and did the unthinkable for me: I asked for help.
Being vulnerable with others can be so hard, especially if you aren’t in touch with your emotions and have spent many years not feeling them and depersonalizing. Thankfully, with the help of my family and friends, I was able to find some therapists and medication. And with the accommodations the universities and teachers were giving, I was able to graduate after one summer class.
Trusting therapists can be hard on different levels, especially if you don’t relate to them or are continuing to live in fear. A different one, one of disconnection and dysphoria, where I don’t want to bare my soul and struggles with gender to someone only to find out they are intolerant or prejudiced. Thus, over the next several years, I never really got a therapist I could work with, as I moved and tested different medications that actually made me want to live, instead of just not wanting to die.
Ultimately, while some things in my life improved, such as finding a therapist I actually enjoyed, I was spiraling downwards. I was constantly hating myself, in a new and unique way from the depressive years before, and not feeling seen, recognized, or validated by anyone. It was during this time that I was isolating intensely and using weed and alcohol to not think about my body. This ultimately culminated in a weekend of intense suicidal ideation and my friends bringing me to the emergency room, from which I was sent to a 72-hour stay at a nearby facility.
Karis is the first place I have lived where I not only feel comfortable but do so while improving my mental and physical health. I feel seen by the staff and fellow residents. I have already made great friendships in the half a year that I have been here, and I know I will make more as I continue to stay and work on myself.
This was a wake-up call for me, both about how bad my mental state was and also how much my friends cared. Upon leaving the facility, which was my first time and an ultimately miserable and isolated experience, I worked with my family to find a program that I could go to and work to improve myself. Unfortunately for me, due to my recognition earlier in the year that I was using weed to cope, and as such, stopped using it of my own accord, and overall awareness of my situation led to insurance not wanting to pay for almost any IOP. In the eyes of them, I didn’t have a severe enough substance problem to warrant an IOP, and IOPs solely for mental health are significantly rarer. While this was validating my own perception, it was quite irritating when trying not to go bankrupt. Yet another issue that I immediately ran into was that almost all IOPs, or at least IOP living arrangements, are gender segregated. Being nonbinary and with my dysphoria being one of the number one reasons I ended up where I was, the amount of options was extremely limited, and most were just asking me to misgender myself one way or the other in order to get housing.
I eventually settled on Redpoint in Longmont and worked on myself there for over five months. I did between nine to fifteen hours in the IOP each week, and even though there were a lot of substance and addiction-related topics, there was plenty on mental health and improving myself that I could take from it. They very clearly were not used to a non-cis client, which made my stay there awkward at times, especially as people who should know better would misgender their mentally ill client to their face.
Eventually, I was nearing graduation from the program and looking for both an outpatient program and different housing. And then I was in a car crash, with my car totaled. Rather than spiral down, especially since I had been using my car to DoorDash for money, I was able to use what I learned and accelerated my search. I had visited Karis the previous year with my mom, and while I wasn’t interested then, mainly due to dysphoria and depression, I was extremely interested now. Dalia was wonderful (as always), immediately responding to my email and setting up phone interviews, in-person intake, and, eventually, the applicant dinner. This was all a huge gamble for me because as I went through the process, I wanted more and more to get into Karis.
And I did! Obviously, I wouldn’t be writing this otherwise :). Karis is the first place I have lived where I not only feel comfortable but do so while improving my mental and physical health. I feel seen by the staff and fellow residents. I have already made great friendships in the half a year that I have been here, and I know I will make more as I continue to stay and work on myself. Perhaps some things aren’t ideal, such as having portions of the week blocked out for groups or check-ins, but it is all easily worked through. Especially having come from an IOP with significantly more restrictions. Karis and the staff are always there to help, to understand, to listen, and it is a truly wonderful place. The support and community outweigh the minuscule downsides a thousandfold.
I am incredibly happy that my journey led me to Karis. I truly cannot express how much it means to me to be here.
– Book
Book, I am so grateful for your story and your honesty. I have known your mom for 2
Years and know how much your growth and courage have strengthened your relationship. You are an inspiration and it meant so much to me to understand your story by reading this. Thank you!
I am incredibly moved by Book’s blog. Thank goodness for places like this!!!