It’s a story of growth and strength. There once was a storm, one that was difficult to calm. It forged my past, which then shaped my present. As time grew, it became more than a storm; a roller coaster was what I was on, and that coaster was my mental health. Amid this storm of metaphors, I found resilience, a beacon of hope that inspired me to keep going. Through it all, I have grown. I aim to encourage other youths on the mental health rollercoaster to share their tale by sharing mine.

I’ve been a Crisis Counselor for the Crisis Text Line, a global nonprofit providing free, confidential text-based mental health support, since November 2023. I’ve witnessed over one hundred texters express their pain, hopelessness, and even urges to hurt themselves. The Crisis Text Line is an immediate support, a lifeline during one’s darkest moments, offering reassurance and a listening ear. It is not intended to replace professional treatment but can be a crucial first step in healing and recovery. Through my work, I’ve seen firsthand how sharing personal stories is not just a way to express oneself but also a powerful tool for fostering connection and understanding. Many who reach out to the line express their inability to connect with professionals due to inconvenient timing. Many of these youths do not have a support system—no friends they can reach out to who are willing to listen. Every texter has a story that those around them have refused to hear. Their stories are similar to mine. While I cannot tell anyone else’s story directly due to confidentiality, I can tell my own.

In telling my story, I’ll draw on several other stories I read this summer that influenced my thinking about the mental health rollercoaster: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the recently published short story collection Ab(solutely) Normal. These two books are not just narratives; they are story-telling bridges that connect us through shared experiences and emotions, fostering a powerful sense of empathy, particularly around the issue of mental health.

Frankenstein, written in 1818 by Mary Shelley, is a famous novel about Victor Frankenstein, a scientist who creates a living creature in his lab. The story paints a portrait of Frankenstein as an intelligent young man who is robbed of everything he loves by the product of his intelligence. Throughout the book, Frankenstein’s mental health is like a flame slowly being extinguished. Frankenstein becomes extremely isolated from those he loves and obsessed with first creating and then destroying the monster; concurrently, his mental health descends into a pit from which it will be challenging to recover. Frankenstein is a tale from the past; the short story collection Ab(solutely) Normal was edited by Rocky Callen and Nora Shalaway Carpenter in 2023 and features stories by thirteen authors of diverse identities. The fictional youth in its tales experience mental health-related issues such as suicidal thoughts, OCD, and more, all based on the lived experiences of the authors. 

The 200+ years that separate Shelley’s book from Callen and Carpenter’s demonstrate that mental health struggles have long been an important theme in human society, which is all the more relevant today. The USA currently has a mental health crisis affecting people of all ages, backgrounds, and ethnicities. Frankenstein and Ab(solutely) Normal are tools of connection that illustrate ongoing threats to our mental health and strategies for improving it. This collection of collective humanity urges us to embrace compassion and understanding as we navigate the complexities of our historical and contemporary worlds.

My world hasn’t always been the prettiest. Though my mental health struggles became more acute when I entered high school, they were not a new feature of my life. I had been actively self-harming for nearly four years by the time of 10th grade. The social isolation I experienced since middle school was similar to what Frankenstein undergoes when his mother dies before he leaves his family to study in a different city. His behavior becomes anxious and obsessive as he spends more time away from his loved ones. He explains, “Winter, spring, and summer passed away during my labors, but I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight—so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation” (Shelley 34). While I wasn’t obsessive over a concept like Frankenstein, I had isolated myself just as he did and suffered similar consequences.

My sense of isolation was supercharged when I caught COVID at the start of sophomore year and was forced to stay home for two weeks. The quarantine was a literal pain in the neck, leading me to harm myself. I recall sobbing from the pain. Once I returned to school, I had no one to sit with at lunch and was consumed by my intrusive negative thoughts. But then I met a friend. Let’s call him Hawk. His entry into my life soon became a blessing but, later, a curse. When Frankenstein descends into social isolation, and his thoughts devour him, his friend Henry Clerval supports him. Much like Clerval was Frankenstein’s person, Hawk was mine. While my relationship with Hawk was developing, my mental health was declining as a result of my home situation. My mother cared for me deeply but wanted me to be perfect. When I couldn’t meet her expectations, she often downgraded me, telling me I knew nothing but playing video games. I felt defeated. Hawk was the only person who I openly told about this situation.

While unsure what to do, he offered me his shoulder and attention. This was the first time someone cared for me outside of my family. It felt strange but comforting. Hawk eventually told me I should consider therapy. At the time, hearing that word felt like a threat. For me to receive therapy, I would first need to be honest with my mother. Hawk continued listening to my sorrows and the emotional pains I endured even after saying no. Like how Clerval supported and cared for Frankenstein during his feverish illness after the monster’s creation, Hawk supported and cared for me to the best of his ability–which ultimately resulted in me reaching out to the guidance counselor at school. It was the first step for me to receive treatment. I had to face my worst fear–being honest about my feelings–and tell the counselor about my self-harm, my previous attempts, and my ongoing struggles. But I was able to start treatment, and things felt like they began to get better.

In the collection of short stories Ab(solutely) Normal, many characters undergo incidents involving suicidal ideation. In the majority of these stories, the protagonists receive support from someone. These stories are written based on the actual experiences of the authors; when I was reading them, I saw myself reflected. I remembered how I spent time with Hawk, and our relationship became unstable. I developed an unhealthy attachment to him, and while my mental health improved at first, it quickly worsened as I became dependent on him. I wanted to be with him all the time, wanted to be by his side, and wanted him only for myself. But he grew sick of me, and his care for me slowly evaporated. “Nothing Feels No Pain”by Sonia Patel is a tale from Ab(solutely) Normal about a young girl in a similarly codependent relationship who suffers from self-harm and PTSD. Vijali Shah-Nielson has a girlfriend named Nari, about whom she cares deeply. One day, Vijali discovers Nari’s social media post with another girl. Jealousy gets the best of her. When I read Nari’s text to Vijali saying, “Codependent much? Not healthy…” followed by Vijali’s realization that “Nari doesn’t need me, but I need her” (Carpenter 60-61), I experienced a wave of emotions. My last text conversation with Hawk flashed through my mind, when he told me he no longer wished to be friends and had given me too many chances already. He said something along the lines of “I don’t give a fuck about what you think. I don’t think it’s healthy for me to keep giving you second chances.”

That was September 30th, 2022, at the beginning of my junior year. With our friendship shattering into bits, my reality shattered, too. Hawk was my future, and after losing him, my will to live also evaporated. That evening, I hurt myself. The following day, my mental state was at its worst, and I hurt myself again. I felt as if I needed to be punished. I fell into a cycle of grief and experienced panic attacks as I saw Hawk at school. Whenever I tried to reconnect with him, he would say, “Change for the better, then we can talk.” So, I changed. Starting with my presence at school, I became president of three clubs and held other leadership roles. In the process, I also decided to change my name.

I wasn’t always known as Bryan. For the longest time, I went by my legal name, Chenghui. Bryan is an Irish name denoting “strength and integrity.” I wanted to embrace what the name represented, but first, I needed to cut strings from Chenghui. The identity of Chenghui was formed through the expectations of others, whether parents or peers. I wanted to be freed from such expectations. I was excited to see this part of my story reflected in the short story “We Are Stardust” by Alechia Dow. The character Dione describes how she “chose Dione for myself. And when I became Dione, I decided to be something else” (Carpenter 228). Choosing to become Bryan also helped me decide to be something different than who I had been before.

I was still struggling, but I had support. There were times when I self-harmed, but the counselor who helped me onto this path was always there for me. Even though I changed, it never satisfied Hawk. But I was no longer the codependent person I once was, and I chose to let him go. I once promised him, “If there is a day we have to go our separate ways, I will accept it.” It was a corny promise, but I adored him and would’ve done anything for him. It’s thanks to him that I am who I am today. If our paths hadn’t crossed that day in October of 2021, that chapter of my life wouldn’t have started. So, thank you, Hawk, for everything you’ve done for me, and once again, goodbye.

My mental health journey is still a rollercoaster, and there have been some setbacks along the way, but writing in August of 2024, I can’t help but marvel at how far I’ve come since August of 2021. My story isn’t finished yet; many more chapters await writing. There once was a storm, one that was difficult to calm. Yet it did calm, and it passed. I am who I am today because of this storm, and I want to remind other young people that no matter how dark your storm seems, your story is not yet finished either. Even as a young person, you are not as powerless as you may think; your story can create a world where mental health can be talked about without shame or guilt. Even if you are hesitant to tell your story, your actions also matter. Through efforts like volunteering, you can bring a smile to your peers. Just like how Clerval supported Frankenstein in all his pain, you can be the support that someone may need. Even a name change can help start a new chapter in your story. I know I’ve been mixing my metaphors throughout this essay, talking about storms and rollercoasters–but it’s my story, and I get to tell it how I felt it. Remember that you can tell your story, too, and it might just be what someone needs for their mental health rollercoaster to become a smoother ride.

Works Cited

Carpenter, Nora Shalaway, and Rocky Callen, editors. Ab(solutely) Normal: Short Stories That Smash Mental Health Stereotypes. Candlewick Press, 2023.

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein: The 1818 Text. Penguin Books, 2018.