I put on my armor with confidence: a large t-shirt, gym shorts, tall white socks and, most importantly, my headphones. Each piece of equipment helps deflect emotions as they are shot at me from all sides. I walk to my car, plop down in the driver’s seat and head to the trail where I run. The question is never how far or how long will I run, but what will I run from today?
I’m a 21-year-old senior journalism major at The University of Mississippi. Ever since I was young, I have been active. I always played extreme games of hide and seek with my neighbors and brothers in the hot state of Alabama. I hiked in state parks with my Boy Scout troop. But I found the most satisfaction when I started running in high school.
Junior year of high school was hell. I was struggling with my grades. I was also a goofball, the class clown. I was always hoping to brighten someone’s day. Others saw my goofiness as something entirely different. People were not laughing with me. They were laughing at me.
“Shut up, faggot. You aren’t worth shit.”
One day, someone spit in my face and walked away, laughing.
“Bet you think you’re funny now,” he said.
I’m straight – that didn’t prevent the name-calling. I played on the varsity baseball and football teams – that didn’t prevent the name-calling. It seemed whatever I did I just did not fit in. It seemed like every time someone laughed, it was directed towards me.
I started giving up on my homework and plans with friends, just so I could sleep. Some days, I came home and went straight to bed. When I was sleeping, I did not have to deal with the heartache and criticism.
How pathetic could I be? Crying at home, in the bathroom at school or in my car with the music blaring. I tried to block out my thoughts, but nothing worked.
One night on my way home from a rough day, I couldn’t shake my dark emotions. I hunkered in my car to hopefully liberate myself from everything.
With my thoughts as my passenger, it had never been so loud. I couldn’t do this anymore. It was exhausting. I couldn’t hide how I really felt. I wasn’t myself; I was a coward.
The words my bullies were telling me were coming true. I wasn’t worth shit. I was failing at everything. The laughing and insults were all I could hear. I did not want people to know what I was going through.
I knew how to finally escape.
“It was an accident.” That’s what they’ll say when they find me. “Oh, he must have fallen asleep.”
Closing my eyes, I slammed on the gas pedal. The sound of the engine revving was so loud it made me sick. I hoped to run into a tree or oncoming car. As the wheels left the asphalt, a feeling of regret overcame me.
My eyes shot open. I swerved from the grass back to the road. With the tires screeching, I slammed on the brakes. My car sat in the middle of the road, illuminating the tree line.
I thought of the friends I did have and my family. They would have lost me, and they wouldn’t even have known why.
In 2011, 487,700 people were treated in emergency departments for self-inflicted injuries, according to the Center of Disease Control and Prevention website. Suicide is the third leading cause of death among persons aged 15-24 years; among 15 to 24-year olds, suicide accounts for 20 percent of all deaths annually.
Katrina Gay, director of communications for the National Alliance on Mental Illness, said 50 percent of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by the age of 14 and 75 percent by the age of 24.
“These are really conditions of the youth,” Gay said. “That recalibrates our thinking of why it’s so important to understand and create awareness.
“Depression is something that will sideline your aspirations and dreams quicker than anything else,” Gay said. “It’s quiet and silent and creeps in, and it can be successfully dealt with.”
Gay said young people under the age of 25 have trouble explaining how they are feeling. Younger people use more abstract ways to describe things.
“They don’t even know what’s wrong,” Gay said. “They don’t even know that they’re worrying.”
Most youth who are bullied do not have thoughts of suicide or engage in suicidal behavior but are often at risk of suicide, Gay said.
“Bullying alone is not the cause,” Gay said. “It’s the other issues that contribute to the suicide risk: depression, problems at home, trauma history and other different cultural factors.”
Dr. Catherine Bradshaw, deputy director of John Hopkins Center for the Prevention of Youth Violence, said bullying is a form of aggressive behavior that is intentional, repeated and generally occurs in the context of a power differential.
People often recognize bullying as being more physical, but physical bullying is not as common as its verbal form.
“The most common forms of bullying include people’s words rather than their fists,” Bradshaw said.
It is difficult to determine how different people will respond to bullying incidents, said Judy Van Raalte, professor of psychology at Springfield College and director of the athletic counseling master’s program with an emphasis in sport psychology.
Van Raalte said the link between bullying and suicide is very complex. Quite often, there are social factors that play a role, as well as biological factors.
“Adolescent brains aren’t fully developed, especially the prefrontal cortex, which is associated with executive functioning and impulse control,” Van Raalte said. “So a lot of times, when kids are getting upset, they might do things literally without thinking or meaning to.”
I never thought to ask for help. It’s not because I did not want to, but because I did not know how to explain how I felt. I could not let everyone know the kid laughing at jokes thought he was the joke.
I was getting angry and annoyed with the people around me. I was acting out in school. I did this to hopefully gain some respect and get some attention.
I took this new behavior with me everywhere. I thought if maybe I talked back to people, I would not be an easy target anymore. This new persona did not quite work out for me.
My family was baffled. My coach made me sit out for a game, and the continuous confrontations occurring among my peers rose to an all-time high.
Angry, I decided to go on a run around the neighborhood.
I ran, and I ran until I finally had to call it quits. Head down, hands on my knees, my mind was clear. It was clear of everything.
This is what I needed to do in order keep all of the clutter out. I continued this habit through the rest of high school. A few laps in the neighborhood turned to one mile and then two. As the distance in my runs grew, so did my peace of mind.
Once I arrived at Ole Miss, I started seeing less of the old me. I was happy, optimistic and eager to get involved. How could this be? I’m not playing the sports I loved. Instead, I’m just running a few miles here and there to keep the pounds off.
I did not question the absence of the old me. I have had a mind clear of almost all negative thoughts and emotions since I’ve been here. It’s been great. I never really could figure out why or how it all went away until I broke my ankle.
The intramural basketball game was a close one. Friends from each team cheered, waiting to either congratulate or console them. The opposing team jumped up to take a shot that would tie the game. I jumped in the air with him. As we both hit the ground, I could feel and hear my ankle crack. I immediately sat up.
“It’s broken,” I said. Then I waved for someone to help me off the court.
I couldn’t walk for weeks. I was a slave to my crutches. I could not shower without a chair. I could not walk to my friends’ room to hear what they were all talking about. I could not go to class unless someone drove me. I never in my life had to stop halfway up the stairs because I was too tired. I felt helpless.
I wasn’t just feeling helpless. I thought I was never going to get better. Instead of working on projects or homework, I would just sleep for hours. I thought that maybe if I went to sleep, I could wake up from this terrible joke.
Laying in bed with my ankle propped up, I looked at the ceiling and thought, “The old me. He’s back.” But there was nothing I could do. There was nowhere for me to go.
I started seeing the same emotions that I felt when I was in high school. I felt like a burden. I did not know how to explain my feelings to my friends, but they could notice that I was not myself.
Evidence has accumulated significantly in the last 10 years showing that exercise of all kinds is associated with better mental health, Van Raalte said.
“All kinds of physical activity are related to better mental health,” Van Raalte said. “People who move more seem to have better mental health than people who don’t.”
Van Raalte said people who exercise are better at emotion regulation, and there are other factors that are related to exercise such as the social component, physical benefits and being around the natural environment.
The set number of times one needs to exercise in order for there to be an effect on mental health is three to four times a week, she said.
Gay also said there is a great amount of research that supports and substantiates the role of exercise, mindfulness and spirituality in therapy. This might also include medication and physical therapy.
Even if people have found their own ways of regulating their emotions, it is still important to know and utilize professional help, Gay and others said.
Vicki Mahan, assistant director of the counseling center at Ole Miss and the employee assistance program coordinator, said the counseling center provides individual, couples and group counseling.
During a counseling session, participants partake in talk therapy, where the counselor sits down and brainstorms with an individual in regards to different situations.
Counselors help participants not only to make a decision but also help monitor medication and give suggestions for other psychologists and other economical ways of treatment.
A lot of times speaking with friends or family can be helpful when in a crisis, but because of their invested relationship, an individual who is unbiased can give better insight, Mahan said.
“Everybody needs help sometimes, and counseling is simply a way of getting out of your head,” Mahan said. “So, that way you are able to see things more clearly.”
The counseling center is free to all students and encourages everyone who is feeling the need to talk to someone to please come and participate for at least one session.
Mahan said if someone is expressing that they are feeling severe distress, anxiousness, sadness or depression that it’s crucial to come receive help before the crisis is evident.
“Counseling centers are not for crazy people. Counseling centers are full of helpers,” Mahan said. “When someone is clinically depressed, it doesn’t happen overnight, but it’s a slippery slope.”
It took breaking my ankle to realize I had found my own therapy. It’s not speaking with a specialist. It’s not medication. It’s running.
But after looking back at my reporting, I realized how great it felt to finally get some answers to questions I have had for years.
Even though I have gotten over my depression, I wish I had spoken with mental health professionals years ago. They made me feel like even though I felt like I had a major problem, these are issues almost everyone faces, and there are ways to deal with them.
I realize I was lucky. I should not have tried to handle those feelings on my own. I should have reached out for help.
Now, I am in the best physical and mental shape of my life. It took two physical therapy appointments per week over four months for my ankle to get stable enough to participate in physical activity, and I succeeded.
Anytime I’m angry, sad, confused or even happy, I run. I sweat out the emotion that is bothering me the most. The laps and route I follow show that I can accomplish anything, and if I work hard enough, I will see the end. As I pass each person, car or corner, it shows me passing each obstacle and emotion with ease.
I went from running only three miles at a time before my injury to at least six miles and an all-time best of 10 miles. I could not be happier.
Now that I’m healed, I hope I won’t have to run from my emotions but with them.
