Listen to me!

When suicide is discussed, it's often just numbers and percentages. Occasionally, a news story slips through the headlines, and society learns that the Suicide Risk Code (CRS) recorded 601 suicide attempts among minors in Catalonia in 2020. This represents a 27% increase compared to the previous year. But this headline quickly fades into the background: the day's political debate, the ongoing controversy surrounding Saturday's goal, or the fluctuating temperatures. And just as quickly as the figures arrive, they silently disappear, unnoticed.

Except for those for whom these numbers are or have been our reality.

601 suicide attempts are 601 moments in which a child has decided to take their own life because they believe death is the only possible escape from their suffering. 601 moments in which lives half-formed, with millions of experiences yet to be lived, were shattered. They are the lives of little people with dreams, hopes, family, friends, problems, lessons learned, and discoveries. Like yours, mine, your niece's, your child's, your grandchild's, or your partner's. If we understand this, 601 ceases to be just a number.

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At one point, I too became part of this statistic. After coming out as a trans boy, and carrying a significant trauma I hadn't yet shared, I started my first year of high school with constant thoughts of death and suicide. Nothing excited me. Keeping up with a simple class felt like an insurmountable obstacle, and little by little, I withdrew into myself, distancing myself from those who loved me and wanted to help me. I felt empty, hopeless about the future, trapped in a well of sadness I didn't know how to climb out of. And how easy it would have been to know that the first step, and perhaps the most important one, was to talk about what was happening to me…

One night, on the verge of collapse, I arrived at the hospital; my first admission. Suddenly, I found myself in a space where I could, and above all, express my emotions and thoughts. I was diagnosed with depression, a mental disorder that affects a large number of people, but remains invisible because, once again, we only hear the statistics. Talking about what was hurting me with the professionals allowed me to understand that, in short, I was ill. I wasn't strong, nor weak, nor guilty of anything : something in my brain wasn't working as it should. And just as when we fall and break a leg we put it in a cast, I trusted those trained to treat the brain to help me live again.

The beginnings weren't easy. I almost always felt like the desire to die was a giant whirlpool swallowing me up, and I couldn't do anything about it. Sadness, anger, despair.

But, little by little, with a lot of work with psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, nurses, family, and friends, life began to take on new colors of hope. As the months passed, the idea that death was the only way out of her suffering diminished; and her desire to discover the world in all its complexity grew .

Yes, the pain of the trauma was still very raw; living as a woman in a way that society didn't understand wasn't easy. There were many bad and very sad moments. But there also began to be small, beautiful moments, joy, future plans that excited me, and reasons why life was worth living.

A year and a half after that night, I'm sitting in my room writing this. It's a hot summer afternoon like any other; the sun bathes the streets in light, and the midday silence is palpable. There's calm. That tightness in my chest that pushed me toward a final, irreversible decision regarding a temporary situation has vanished; I can breathe again.

But let me speak directly to you, who believe that death is the only solution to your suffering. Let me tell you that I truly understand how you feel. You are not alone, even though it may sometimes seem that way. Talk to someone you trust, seek help from professionals. Talk to whomever you can and whomever you feel comfortable with, but talk. And listen to me… the world is a great puzzle, and every piece is essential: you included. (Remember that if you are thinking of taking your own life, you can always postpone it, survive today, and tomorrow, when the sun rises, we can come back and think about how to kill the monsters.) I promise you, with my hand on my heart, that everything gets better.

And if you're family or a friend, listen, listen to us. Make it easy for us to explain how we feel. Don't judge us. Help us ask for help and feel safe. But above all, listen to us.

I breathe. Breathe.