The first time Reddit saved my life was perhaps the most obvious. Almost immediately after I made my post on Facebook, someone linked to it on the University of Waterloo subreddit (r/uwaterloo), asking for help from anyone who might have information on my whereabouts. The post gained a lot of traction and was soon getting over a hundred views per minute from people all over the world, reaching the top of rising on r/all (or so I’ve been told — I didn’t know about any of this until after the fact).

It worked. Within five hours of the post being shared, police found me, and I was brought to a hospital in Toronto, still alive.

I spent the next few days hating myself for not choosing a quicker method and allowing myself to be saved. I was angry at the person who shared my post, and angry that I was now being kept against my will — I just wanted to be let go so I could go ahead and end things properly this time.

But now, looking back, I am eternally grateful. I would not be here today if my post hadn’t been shared and I hadn’t been found. I cannot thank you enough, stranger.

As a result, I had hundreds of people reaching out to me, on many different platforms — such as texting or calling my phone, Facebook Messenger, WhatsApp, and Google Hangouts, sending me asks and submissions on my Tumblr, and PMing me on Reddit. People told me their stories, about their own battle with depression and suicidal ideation, or about their friends or family who were successful at taking their own lives and the aftermath. People told me MY story — they told me how my life had affected theirs in ways I could never have known. People offered help in so many different ways — they offered a listening ear, advice for ways to help end my depression, or even their own homes if I needed a safe place to stay. I saw the best side of humanity and realized the lengths people would go for me — a complete stranger to most.*

The story of my time in the hospital and the subsequent weeks will be saved for another time, though — but trust me, it was somehow simultaneously the best and worst weeks of my life.

Before I posted that note, I hadn’t told many others about what I was going through; a lot of people were taken by surprise. I hadn’t said anything to most people because I was afraid — afraid of their judgement, afraid they would think I was weak or tell me just to suck it up, afraid that they would choose not to be around someone who was dealing with mental illness. There were so many things I was worried about that it blinded me, and my depression made it impossible to see the other side: that telling others could actually be helpful rather than harmful.

After I posted the note, there was no more hiding. I couldn’t just pretend everything was fine anymore. There was no taking back what I had done; everyone was now aware of exactly what I was dealing with and exactly how bad it had gotten. In a way, I was forced to open up.

But opening up to others has been super beneficial. It turns out, most people are willing — and even want — to help in any way they can. Having others know what I was going through has allowed me to ask for the help that I need, when I need it. And sometimes, I don’t even need to ask for help — just knowing that someone is there if I need them is enough.

If you are suffering and haven’t told anyone how you are feeling, I cannot stress enough the importance of doing so. I had huge doubts about it myself — I kept quiet about my struggles for years on end — but I just didn’t understand the benefits until I’d done it. Please, talk to someone — it could be a friend or family member, or if you aren’t comfortable with that, please talk to your doctor or a counselor or even a stranger on the internet. My message box will always be open, or if you want anonymity, there are so many people on Reddit willing to listen. You just have to ask.

I could go on about this for a while, but I think it’s better suited for another post I’m writing up. Instead, I’ll pick things up about a month after the event, when I’d driven across the country to now live in Seattle, working as a software engineering intern at Microsoft.

The Second Time: Chocolate Milk and Getting Out of a Suicidal State