Mental Health Awareness Month
May is Mental Health Awareness Month…a nationally recognized time to raise awareness of those living with mental or behavioral health issues and to help reduce the stigma so many experience.
So…let’s talk about it.
For those of you that know some of my pre-Just Shake It Off story, you know that I’ve struggled with my own mental health issues. I’ve fought, and still do fight, my own battle with depression. I first sought was required to seek the counsel of a mental health professional 30 years ago. Knowing the stigma that mental health issues tend to carry today, in 2021, just imagine what that was like 30 years ago, in 1991.
Full disclosure:
I started working on this piece in late-February, 2021. Right now it is May 4th, 2021. I’m not really sure when I will actually hit publish on this post.
You see…I have a story to share and I don’t know quite how to go about it. I’m hoping to swiftly work my way through this writer’s block… which should actually more correctly be referred to as a bravery block. In sharing this story, I’m asking myself to be more raw and more authentic than ever before and truth is…I’m scared.
Deep down, I think I always knew that it was inevitable I would share this story…I just didn’t know when. I came thisclose to sharing it a couple of months ago on a significant date in March, but I lost my courage. And I regret that. I regret that because I will always wonder if I had worked through that fear and found the courage to share this story two months ago on that day in March…could I have changed another story one month ago on a day in April.

project semicolon ;
Have you ever heard of Project Semicolon? It is an American nonprofit organization founded in 2013 and known for its advocacy of mental health wellness and its focus as an anti-suicide initiative. But why did the organization choose such a seemingly random name and symbol for their identity? I’m glad you asked, because the word-nerd writer in me loves this creative connection. And it is not random at all.
An author uses a semicolon when they could’ve used a period and chosen to end their sentence, but instead…chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life. The semicolon symbolizes you…deciding that your life, your sentence, your story is not over yet. And I think that’s a pretty cool connection. So…now when you see a semicolon used outside of a traditional piece of writing, you’ll understand the significance of that semicolon.
inked

That photo over there…? That’s me. That’s my arm and my tattoo. My semicolon tattoo. I got my semicolon tattoo in 2015 after finding my way through a dark time. I got it as a reminder that…as the author of my story…I chose to continue my story.
I got it as a reminder.
Because on March 19, 1991…I made a different choice.
As the author of my story…I chose, on that day, to end my story.
cont;nue
I am a survivor of a suicide attempt.
Wow.
That is the first time in 30 years that I’ve said those words “out loud” to more than one person at a time. And it terrifies me.
Very, very few people who did not know me in 1991 know this about me. Well…they didn’t.
I was 18-years-old. I was in my Freshman year of college at Northern Michigan University in Marquette…on scholarship. It was a Tuesday. It was Wednesday before doctors could say with any confidence that I would survive.
This is so hard. I can close my eyes, 30 years later, and be back to that day in an instant. Everything is right there…the sights, the smells, the sounds…everything. But…I don’t know how much to share. I don’t want my story to be a trigger for anyone. But, I also don’t want to disguise the reality of what this is, what this looks like, and what this feels like. Bob Goff, a well-known author and public speaker that I admire says, “we can’t fix what we don’t take the time to understand.” So, I guess I’ll just start trying to help us all understand and I’ll see where the words lead.
where it started
I absolutely loved high school! I know…I can hear so many of your groans from here. I recognize that I’m in the minority, but I really did love high school and would do it again in a heartbeat.
I had a summer job. I had a car. I had friends. I had sports. I had excellent grades. And I had a plan. I knew where I was going after high school and what I was going to study.

I know how to work hard. My parents instilled that in me and they led by example. That summer job…I started when I was 12…and worked there until I was nearly 19. That car…I made bi-weekly payments to my parents. The sports…as a softball pitcher, I challenged myself to throw 100 pitches a day. I wanted to be faster and stronger and that wasn’t going to happen without hard work. As a basketball player, I played for Ike…no further explanation about hard work needed. But the excellent grades. I loved academics and the grades came easily. I still worked hard to stay on top of things and I still had to study, but none of this was a struggle. I never really needed to ask for help. Except Trigonometry. We’re not going to talk about Trigonometry.
what happened
In August of 1990, our moms helped me and my best friend since Kindergarten move into our dorm. It was all there…right in front of me. My plan. My dream. In real life. I was starting college with my best friend and I loved everything about it. Campus was easy to navigate and there was always something fun to do. We got along quickly and easily with our suitemates. I liked my flexible schedule, my professors and (almost) all of my classes. There was that one class, a math class, that had me redeclaring my major only 1 month in, but…other than that…things really were just how I had pictured them.
Until they weren’t.
I thought that being academically strong and moving smoothly through high school meant I was well-prepared for college-level academics. I had the tools I needed. I was a diligent note-taker. I would study and re-study exam content. I always loved turning in a well-marked-up and crossed-out rough draft. And I had survived multiple peer reviews. It wasn’t until I started struggling in one of my college classes that I realized there was one tool I was lacking. One very important tool. In high school, I had never had to ask for help. And now that I needed it…I had no idea how to ask for it. And things got out of control. Quickly.
I was stuck on an assignment and needed to ask for help. But, I didn’t know how to do that. So…I didn’t finish my assignment. And, in my mind…I couldn’t go to class with an incomplete assignment. So I skipped class. Just this once. But when I looked at the syllabus and saw the topic of the next lecture I knew I would have trouble comprehending it because it piggybacked off the assignment I didn’t complete. And, again, in my mind…I couldn’t go to class unprepared. So I skipped class…again. I promised myself that was the last time. But it wasn’t the last time…far from it. My lack of participation snowballed to another class, then another class, and another…until I was barely going to class at all. What was the point? There was no way I would catch up now.

I went home for Christmas break and pretended everything was okay. No…more than okay. I pretended everything was great! I feigned pride over my (in)completed Fall classes. I falsely proclaimed an equal level of excitement over my class schedule for the upcoming Spring semester. And, I intercepted the mail when Fall semester grades were sent home. There was absolutely no way my parents could see those grades. No way I could face my parents and tell them I was on academic probation. I couldn’t face myself. Salutatorian, there on scholarship…turned failing student, there on academic probation. Awesome.
back to school
I returned to campus in January and was actually a teeny bit excited about a fresh start. Christmas break had given me the time to reset and reprioritize…or so I thought. Upon my return to campus, I swiftly found out that I had officially lost my scholarships. No more NMU Presidential Scholarship and no more Medusa Corporation Outstanding Scholar Award. In my rational, healthy mind I knew that this was going to happen. But in my irrational, unhealthy mind I felt like I had been sucker-punched. And to top it off…I had also ruined my sister’s opportunity to apply for and actually make deserved use of the Medusa Scholarship.
It wasn’t just because of the grades and the scholarships. Sure…that was the catalyst for the downward spiral. But, there were plenty of other challenges that felt unbearable…insurmountable. I’m choosing not to share all of those details. Although not everyone that was a part of my life back then is currently an active part of my life…I greatly respect all of them and their privacy is important to me.
I didn’t tell my parents, or my best friend, or my suitemates, or any of my friends how deeply I was hurting.
And I never asked for help.
I gave up.
I no longer went to any of my classes. I didn’t go to any sporting events or movie nights or dorm parties. I began losing all of the friends that I had made.
And still, I never…not once…asked for help.
And now, things had gone on for too long. There was no way I could admit to my parents how terribly I had messed up. There was no way I could return to my little hometown for the summer and face the friends and family and community that I knew I had let down. Hell…I could barely face myself in the mirror. There was nothing I could do.
Except…there was one thing I could do.
So, on that Tuesday afternoon in March, I did what I saw as the only way out.
I waited until all three of my roommates had left for class.
Then I waited a little while longer to make sure none of them came back for anything forgotten.
I started writing a letter that I couldn’t find the words to finish.
And then I tried to take my own life.
I attempted suicide.
And I survived.
afterword
While this may seem like the appropriate spot to say “the end” and sign off of this part of the story…it’s really only the beginning. As hard as this has been to write, and as exposed as I feel right now, there is so much more I need to tell you.
Suicide…completed, attempted, interrupted…suicide on any level leaves in its wake so much collateral damage, so much heartbreak. And we need to talk about it. If we’re ever going to fix this, we need to take the time to understand this.
I’m adding a new category to my blog focusing on mental health awareness and suicide prevention. In that space, I will continue sharing more of this part of my story with anyone that wants to learn more. If you have questions, please don’t be afraid to ask them. We don’t know what we don’t know. If it’s something I’m not comfortable answering…I’ll respectfully let you know. But if answering the hard questions, if sharing the raw details, helps just one person feel less alone and less desperate…then it will be worth it.
I wish this didn’t feel so urgent and necessary. I wish I didn’t feel like I needed to do this. But…it does and I do. I feel this pull, this responsibility to do more.

As I said at the beginning of this…I lost the courage to write and share this part of my story back in March. And I will always wonder if I had just been brave enough…could I have reached Tanner.
I need to do more. I need to do better. For myself, for Tanner, and for all those I love. I don’t know with any measure of certainty exactly what more or better look like right now…but I’m going to be brave enough to try to figure it out.
opportunity to help
As a way to bring attention to the importance of suicide awareness and to honor all those affected by suicide, I’ve designed a new semicolon t-shirt and added it to the Just Shake It Off Store. Profits from the sales of this shirt will be gifted to the Michigan Association For Suicide Prevention (MASP) in Tanner’s name.
Bless you for sharing your story! It took me years to admit the same, even to say it out loud now gives me anxiety. But if we keep the conversation going, we can give hope to others.
Thank you for sharing Nikki. That took alot of guts and I admire your strength. My cousins 25 year old son committed suicide almost 2 weeks ago. No one had any idea. No one knows what his struggles were, he never asked for help either. I hope your story helps someone ask for that help. Thank you.
Oh, JoAnne…I am so sorry.
This is my why. This is my courage.
To try to stop one other person from making this decision. To spare one other family from this heartbreak.
Thank you for always being so supportive of my pieces. It means the world to me♥️
– Nikki
Nikki, you are such a beautiful and amazing girl. You have so many talents and God is using YOU to help so many others! He loves you so much and has always had a purpose here on Earth for you! This is why you had the courage to share this part of your life. You are truly an inspiration!💗
Sheila –
Thank you for such kind and thoughtful words.
These are the kind of things that keep me pushing on the hard days.❤
-Nikki
What a courageous act to share your story…and your talent…for the benefit of others. God is using you in so many amazing ways! Through your weakness, He shines through. Thank you so much for sharing. Keep writing!!
Oh, Heather…thank you so much for such kind words.❤
If sharing my story can help even one person I will be grateful and blessed.
Thank you for reaching out.
-Nikki
Sharing your story, even 30 years later, will only inspire in hope of someone else sharing theirs. Eventually, we can all break the stigma together. This piece was beautifully written. Thank you for being so brave.
Audrey –
Thank you for taking the time to read and to reach out.
It means so much.❤
There IS hard work to be done, but you’re absolutely right.
TOGETHER we can do this hard work and ultimately silence the stigma.
-Nikki
Nikki. I’m so glad you’re still here. ❤ You are one of the most courageous women I know. Bless you for sharing your story, and for all your advocacy. You’re knocking down stigmas like it’s your job, and it is such important work.
But, Nikki… please don’t beat yourself up about not sharing sooner. That’s not on you. ❤❤
Amanda –
These stigmas can be so stifling.
I am blessed to have found renewed purpose in working to knock a few of them down!
Thank you for your kind words…they will absolutely be taken to heart.❤
-Nikki
Nikki, thank you for sharing your story. Many people have considered the same solution for many reasons in different situations. Some have acted; others have not. Why a specific decision is made, we don’t know. I remember difficult teen years and thoughts I never shared. You are a brave, strong lady. I admire you.
Judith –
You’re right…we don’t know why a specific decision may have been made.
I think this is where so much of the pain of the loved ones emanates from.
Thank you for always being so supportive. ❤
I admire you.
-Nikki
As a
Mother of a child who suffers from bipolar disorder even though she was in counseling all through school I worry about this every day!! She has the semi colon tattoo and she is doing well but I worry that a day may come where things are not well! Thank you Nikki for being so brave to share. Mental health care is a real need in our country!!
Kimberly –
Thank you for taking the time to read and to reach out.
I’m sorry that you know the pain of that kind of worry.
I’m glad to hear that your daughter is in a healthy place at the moment.
She and you will both be in my thoughts and prayers. ❤
-Nikki
This was so powerful & brought on so much emotion through your writing! Thank you for being brave enough to share <3
Thank you for reading and taking the time to reach out, Kennedy. ❤
It really means a lot.
-Nikki
This is so powerful Nikki. You’re incredibly brave for sharing this! And I truly believe these words will help change lives; more appropriately, extend lives. Thank you and bless you for your strength!
Thank you, Mark!
That is surely my hope. ❤
-Nikki
You, my friend, are amazing. I also remember that day and I can tell you the exact circumstances in which I heard the news. I’ve been waiting for this day…the day you shared your story. Good work. So well written. Thank God you’re still here to share life’s ups…AND downs! <3
I remember too. So hard to understand at the time. Thanks for sharing, Nikki…it will help us all. ❤
I hope so, Betsy.
Love you, Molly. ❤