By Rwenshaun Miller, as told to Stephanie Watson.
When we’d see certain people around the neighborhood who were homeless or who were always on the corner by one of the stores, we’d write them ...
...off by saying, “Don’t bother him and he won’t bother you.” That was the extent of the conversations we would have about mental health.
Downward Spiral
Just adapting to college was one thing, but adapting to a college where I wasn’t very well-represented as a black person ...
...was even harder. Then in my sophomore year, I suffered a knee injury, and that essentially took away my athletic career.
My mom would constantly call me and ask, “How you been doing?” I would lie and say, “I’m good and school is going well.” At this point I hadn’t left my room in maybe 2 months.
Intervention
She said, “I can hear it in your voice that something’s wrong.”
They said, “If you don’t want to talk, we’re going to take you somewhere to get you some help.” They told me they were going to take me to the hospital.
Distrust
I looked through the glass at my family, and they were crying because they’d never seen me in this state. To be a black male ...
...in a mental health hospital, I wasn’t trusting anybody in there. I’m just going to say OK so I can get out of here.
Game Changer
Lucky for me, my uncle lived in Charlotte. I wasn’t used to seeing doctors like that.
Once I got better, I stopped taking my meds and going to therapy because I thought I was cured. I went back to UNC Chapel Hill in the fall of 2007. I was drinking a fifth of tequila every other day.
Self-Medicating
People would consider that part of my life a success, but they didn’t know the struggle I was going through on a daily basis. During this time period, I made three different suicide attempts.