Many Latinos endure suicidal thoughts in silence. That’s why I’m speaking up about mine – The Arizona Republic

October 3, 2021 Kim Martel

A sign at the end of the New Carrollton Metro Station shows the number for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

The drive to end my life was a persistent voice continuously whispering, “You have no value.”

I was always depressed and lonely, even in a full room of people. I recognized having to take sedatives to get through the day wasn’t normal or a healthy way to exist. I lost sleep, lethargy set in, and weight gain further added to my depression.

More and more I found kinship with the words from a Linkin Park song, “Waiting for the End”:

Waiting for the end to come

Wishing I had strength to stand

This is not what I had planned

It was relatable as an intense feeling of anxiety kept growing. I felt ugly and isolated. I thought of myself as a monster of imperfection. I felt chained to hopelessness.

I was a public figure with a platform, giving speeches and attending countless community events. Outwardly people saw the smile, handshaking and an extrovert. Inside it was an all-together different, dark mental environment.

Talking to someone saved my life

I arrived at the height of my despair on a Friday in January of 2018. I put a bottle of sleeping pills in my pocket and headed out the door. The day progressed slowly. I became more impatient.

Before taking the bottle out of by pocket for use, I made one decisive act: talk to someone. It proved a life-saving decision.

And did I vent – my feelings, my shame and my sadness. That someone heard me out. Expressed support. Offered advice. Desolation, that ever constant companion, finally took leave. I could breathe.

I drove home that evening, handed my wife the bottle of pills and went to bed.

The willingness to listen, be patient and not judge makes a world of difference when dealing with people like me who have long-held suicidal ideation.

The willingness to seek help cannot be overstated, either.

I became my own caseworker. I decided shame and fear was not going to hold me back from sitting down with a therapist.

Mental health carries a stigma among many Latinos

A barrier to look for help early on was the cultural concern as a Latino man and the stigma associated with mental health and suicide specifically. In many Latino families, mental health is not commonly a topic of conversation at the kitchen table. It’s only now that I’ve shared my story with extended family.

Culturally, topics considered taboo like mental health (and suicide even more so) aren’t discussed – it’s left to be a private matter. The impact of staying quiet is profound as it adds to the isolation and feeling abnormal. Latino men are expected to not show emotion, as it’s perceived as a sign of weakness.

As noted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in 2018, “Suicide behaviors have grown among Hispanics in the last decade, especially for females and for youth” – 1 in 4 Latina and Hispanic girls and 1 in 4 Hispanic and Latino boys have considered suicide. The rates are even higher for Latino/a and Hispanic lesbian, gay or bisexual individuals.

After dozens of phone calls, I finally found a psychiatric doctor who eventually prescribed anti-depression and anti-anxiety medications. I saw a therapist regularly and expressed my feelings that were imbued with tortuous blackness; I created goals to level my mental health. Taking sedatives continued as a means to handle life’s slings and arrows.

I had setbacks, but I also found truth

The propensity for suicidal ideation subsided but it didn’t go away. There were times I experienced setbacks, triggering dark thoughts. I recall one of those moments in late March of 2019, while on a flight home from southern California, feeling dejected and beaten.

I wrote: “You once danced in the rain with happiness, laughed with truthful gusto, debated with delightful purpose, walked with modest assuredness, created with captivating color. You’re left to hold-in the tears afraid of flooding your dignity away.”

After months of therapy and looking for a better me, and I found truth in the words of Pablo Neruda, “You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” I found purpose in myself anew and began to think of a future where even if the flowers were cut I could put them in a vase. I began to look forward and found hope, courage and creativity.

That’s why it’s so important to tell this story

I’m fortunate. I had health insurance and once worked at a health care nonprofit that helped assist me in navigating the behavioral health system. I gained knowledge about resources and organizations like the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

I turned to the foundation’s website which annually publishes statistics on suicide from the CDC Data & Statistics Fatal Injury Report. The most recent statistics, from 2019, were somber, both nationally and locally:

47,511 Americans died by suicide, 1,419 in Arizona.
There were an estimated 1.38 million suicide attempts.
Men died by suicide more than 3.5 times as women.
Suicide was eighth leading cause of death in Arizona.
Five times as many Arizonans died by suicide than in alcohol-related car crashes.

The suicide prevention foundation also provides a link to get help – afsp.org/get-help – and find support for yourself or those who may be at risk for suicide.

Oct. 10 is World Mental Health Day. I am telling my truth today because I know well the anguish that leads to suicide ideation and the experience of standing at the ledge, contemplating a jump.

There is hope if you get help. Don’t wait

We all struggle. Many experience anxiety and depression, and that the percentage has jumped alarmingly during the COVID-19 pandemic.

I survived because I talked to someone who listened and cared, saw a therapist who helped me put challenges in perspective and the love of my wife and family. The dark thoughts are gone, the monster exorcized.

In November 2019, with a clearer mind and on my way to feeling more confident, I heard two lines, somehow camouflaged within the music, in the Linkin Park song:

Picking up the pieces now where to begin

The hardest part of ending is starting again

I took it as a blessing and that’s what I’ve done every day since then: Start again.

Carlos Galindo-Elvira is director of community engagement & partnerships for Chicanos Por La Causa, a nonprofit organization empowering people in Arizona, California, Nevada, New Mexico and Texas. On Twitter: @arizonascge.