Thank You, Zach (The Zach Effect) The First Autobiography of Daniel Soto

Light at the End of Darkness

In this chapter, I call it a light at the end of darkness so it can remind you there is always hope at the end of our darkness. At the end of this chapter, I will share three services that helped me survive and continue to help others. Like my psychiatrist and therapist told me to find a way to prevent having suicidal thoughts, I want to share my experience so you can help people stopping having suicidal thoughts. You will acknowledge how I went to depression through sadness and obsessions, how I ended up in a mental hospital with a short story of my experience there, and how I ended up being cured with help from a psychiatrist, therapist, friends, and family. Lastly, a message to the reader of how I'm doing now with my struggles and how I'm getting family and friends' support to get through it.

As you already know, I moved to Houston when I was ten years old, but you probably do not know how I felt it. Yes, I was excited to reunite with my best friends In Houston, and I did come to America with my family, but I was sad I left my school friends and my rest of the family behind, and I did not know when I will see them again. Yes, I was sad that probably I would never see them again, but I never told anyone how I truly felt my sadness and just kept it with me. When I was a little older than ten years old, my classmates were excited to see their grandparents over the weekend, and I could not see my grandparents over the weekend because it was just impossible. I could not fly from Houston to Peru for only three days and then return on Monday to school. I do understand that it is okay to feel sad sometimes. Still, the mistake I made was keeping my sadness with me and never shared with anyone and eventually lied to everyone, including myself, how I genuinely feel. I did this because I thought people would not understand me, and I also thought keeping my sadness to myself would be a good idea because it will prevent people from thinking that I cannot control my emotions nor be strong enough to face the truth. I kept doing this for a very long time.

You may think that it is normal to feel sad sometimes, but what was not okay was accumulating my sadness and not telling anyone about it, including myself. On my twelve birthday, my maternal grandpa came to celebrate my birthday in Peru, and that was a fantastic moment, and I will never forget it. A year later, my grandfather passed away surprisingly, and I was unfortunate to see my mom not having a father anymore. I was mad at how quickly he died after just seeing him physically, emotionally, and mentally well. You probably think if I have shared my sadness with anyone would help, and I agree with you, but I did not know back then. I did share it with my family a bit, but not one-hundred percent truly, and I just kept it with me for years. Throughout my teen life, I was bullied at school and on the school bus. I remember almost no one wanted to sit by me on the school bus, felt lonely, and was psychologically ill for thinking no one wanted to be with me and was also verbally abuse without telling people about it. If I told someone about those bullies, I would probably be bullied more, so I just let them verbally bully me because I knew I could not fight them. I made very few friends during my middle school and high school years, and those friends that I had my school years incredible, but when I graduated from high school, I never saw them again, which I was sad, but I was okay with it. One more time, I never told anyone about it and kept it with me. I was cyberbullied too, but in the same sense as bullying emotionally in person. The cyberbullies were out of state, not in my schools. Because they were out of state, I could quickly tell people about it, and I thankfully did. I also know cyberbullying is not easy to tell someone about it for many reasons, but it is important as bullying to mention it. Cyberbullying does affect us mentally, emotionally, like real-life bullying.

During my first few years in college, I wanted everyone around me to feel happy and smile all the time, but when someone asked me how I was feeling, I always lied about it by saying I'm fine and eventually lied to myself too. I continued doing this for a long time because I had learned from society that men should not show their genuine emotions. After all, they were supposed to be strong and not sensitive, and I believe it and did that. In spring 2017, one of my mother's sisters died from having bacteria in her brain. I was sad that my aunt died and could not see her frequently or never again and was sorry for my mom too, and once again, I have never told anyone about it and lied to everyone about how I truly felt about my aunt's death. I agree that I was in denial for not truly accepting my emotions because I followed society's rule about men with their feelings. I remember one night I woke up from a nightmare. This nightmare was not me falling from the sky, screaming that we eventually woke up from, but it was a nightmare trying to convince me to do something. This nightmare told me to get into my car, drive to the nearest freeway, park at the shoulder of the highway, get out of the car, and jump off the bridge. I never tried to commit suicide or do it ever, but this nightmare attempted to convince me to do it. I never did it because I did not want my family to be worried or sad about my death and never told anyone about it and always kept it with me. This nightmare did not just come to me once, but many times in different ways. Throughout the people I have ever talked to, besides my parents and brother, I accepted my death by convincing people that I will be fine. They should feel worried about it while expressing happiness and joy (I know expressing positive feelings while accepting death is near us it's a good thing, but suicide should never be a way to approach the end). I only did it to worry people about my death and thought I was doing a good thing.