By Elliana Nickel
Elliana Nickel
Content Warning: Mentions of mental illness and suicidal ideation.
Journal Entry: 2012
I always feel so out of step with the world. Too much noise, too many changes, too much to process at once. I’m only nine years old. I don’t have the words for this feeling but I know how easily I become overwhelmed by sounds, eye contact, and even simple conversations. I assume that everyone else feels the same but handled it better. So I mask. I act calm when I’m not, pretend I understand when I don’t. Deep down, I feel like I don’t fit into my own life, as if everyone else has been let in on a secret I’m not part of.
Journal Entry: 2016
This year, I ended up in the hospital after a suicide attempt and years of quietly hurting myself. Writing that down feels heavy. This feeling built up slowly, quietly, until I couldn’t carry it anymore. On the outside, I keep showing up: going to class, laughing at the right moments, and finishing assignments. Inside, I am exhausted, numb, and desperate for relief. I don’t truly want to die, I just want the pain to stop. Being hospitalized is frightening, but it has also been the first time that I don’t feel invisible. People ask questions I’d never thought to ask myself. They listen. For the first time, I believe that maybe things could change.
Journal Entry: 2017
After that, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Finally having names for what I was feeling is both comforting and scary. It’s comforting because it gave me an explanation, but it’s scary because I worry this will define me forever. Therapy has been starting slowly. Talking about what is in my head does not come naturally, but I keep trying. I have learned that the thoughts I carry don’t mean I am a bad person, but that I need support. No one had warned me that healing doesn’t move in a straight line. Some days feel lighter, some don’t. Both are still progress, and I am relieved to feel like I am finally moving forward.
Journal Entry: 2023
This year, I received an autism diagnosis, something I have been suspecting for a long time. Learning more about how autism can look different in women felt like someone had handed me a missing puzzle piece. The diagnosis gives me permission to stop blaming myself for traits I thought were flaws. I’m not “too sensitive” or “too emotional.” I am autistic. My brain just processes the world differently, and that’s okay.
Journal Entry: 2024
After years in therapy, I am learning how to handle the harder moments better. I can recognize when I’m slipping and reach out before I hit bottom. I am practicing being honest with myself, even when it’s uncomfortable. I still face anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and shutdowns, but don’t face them alone anymore. Journaling has become one of my most powerful tools, it gives me a place to be real, without fear of judgment, and shows me how far I’ve come even on days I can’t see it.
Journal Entry: September 2025
It’s Suicide Prevention Month. If you’re reading this and you’re in a dark place, please know you are not the only one who has felt this way. I know what it’s like to believe it will never get better. I also know that belief is a liar. Mental health doesn’t have one “look.” It can live behind a smile, in good grades, in small talk. Anyone can struggle, and that struggle doesn’t make you weak or broken, it makes you human. Asking for help isn’t a failure. It’s the first step toward surviving, and eventually, toward living. If no one else has told you this today: I’m glad you’re here.