From “Do You Want to Die?” to “I’m Still Here”: Lessons from a Harsh Question in My 20s
When I was in my twenties, I sat across from a social worker named Freddy. She was young, confident, and—at least in my eyes at the time—very smart. We were having what I thought would be a routine conversation, maybe about my goals, maybe about how I was navigating my identity. Instead, she hit me with a question so sharp it stopped me cold:
“Have you ever wanted to commit suicide because of who you are?”
I can still feel the sting of those words decades later. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked me something personal, but it was the first time it felt like a test, a judgment, and maybe even a projection. Here I was, just trying to find my place in the world, and instead of compassion, I got a question that made me question myself.
Now I’m 57. I’ve built a life I’m proud of. I’m still standing, still learning, and still growing. Looking back on that moment now, I don’t just see the pain—I see the lesson. I see the opportunity to talk about what it’s like when someone in a position of authority or “help” says something harmful, and how you can recover, heal, and rise above it.
The Impact of Harsh Questions
When you’re young—especially in your 20s—you’re like a sponge. You’re figuring out who you are, how you want to live, and how to handle the opinions of others. A question like “Do you want to die because of who you are?” can land like a punch to the gut.
At the time, I didn’t understand why Freddy asked me that. Was she concerned? Was she trying to help? Or was she projecting her own pain onto me? Years later, as I watched her life unfold from a distance, I saw cracks in the image she had presented. The family she used to talk about with pride wasn’t as picture-perfect as she made it seem. She may have been carrying her own heavy load, and instead of dealing with it, she placed some of it on me.
That realization taught me something powerful: people can only meet you where they are. Even professionals, even “smart” people, even the ones who are supposed to help you.
Why We Internalize Other People’s Pain
When someone in authority says something harsh, it’s easy to internalize it. You start thinking:
- “Maybe they’re right about me.”
- “Maybe I am broken.”
- “Maybe my feelings or identity are too much for the world.”
I know because I did it. I carried that question around like a secret scar. It made me feel like I had to prove myself—to show that I could not only survive but thrive. But with time, therapy, and a lot of self-reflection, I began to see that the question said more about Freddy than it did about me.
If you’re reading this and you’ve had a similar experience, here’s your reminder: what people project onto you is not your truth. Their fears, their biases, their pain—that’s theirs to carry, not yours.
What I’ve Learned Since Then
At 57, I can look back with clarity. Here are three of the biggest lessons that came out of that painful moment:
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Boundaries Save Lives
When someone asks you a question that feels invasive or damaging, you have the right to set a boundary—even with professionals. You can say, “I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” or “That’s not an appropriate question for me right now.” Boundaries are not disrespectful; they are self-protection. -
Healing Takes Work, Not Perfection
I didn’t just “get over” Freddy’s question. I had to do the work. For me, that meant journaling, reading self-help books, attending therapy when I could, and surrounding myself with people who affirmed me. Healing is a process, not an event. -
Your Story Is Not Over
In my 20s, I couldn’t have imagined the life I have now. I’ve been through ups and downs, heartbreaks, victories, losses, and wins. But I’m here. I survived the questions, the doubts, and the projections. You can too.
Advice for Anyone Going Through Something Similar
If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a harsh question or judgment about your identity, mental health, or self-worth, here are some practical steps to protect yourself and grow stronger:
- Pause and Breathe: In the moment, take a breath before responding. You don’t have to have an answer right away.
- Seek Support: Talk to someone you trust—a friend, mentor, or another professional who can provide real care.
- Write It Down: Journaling helps you separate what was said from what you believe. Sometimes seeing it on paper shows you how off-base the comment really was.
- Affirm Yourself: Replace the harmful question with affirmations. For example, after Freddy’s question, I started telling myself: I am worthy. I belong here. My life has value.
- Look for Patterns: If someone consistently asks harmful questions or makes you feel small, that’s not “help.” That’s harm. And it’s okay to walk away.
How to Reframe the Pain
Here’s the part I want you to take with you: the harshest things people say to you can become fuel for your growth. I didn’t realize it then, but Freddy’s question forced me to get serious about my own mental health. It pushed me to examine my worth, my identity, and my boundaries.
Would I have preferred kindness over cruelty? Absolutely. But now, decades later, I can use that moment to speak life into others. I can say to you, if you’re struggling, you’re not alone, and you’re not broken.
A Challenge for You
If you’ve had a “Freddy moment”—someone asking you something harsh, judgmental, or wounding—ask yourself:
- What did it teach me about myself?
- How can I use that moment to grow stronger?
- Who can I talk to right now for real support?
Your answer might be the start of your healing.
Final Thoughts
Back then, in my 20s, Freddy’s question felt like an attack. Today, at 57, it feels like a turning point. I survived. I thrived. And I learned that other people’s projections don’t define me.
So if you’re reading this and you’re in that place—young, confused, maybe feeling judged—hear me when I say: you can outgrow this moment. You can build a life you’re proud of. You can turn someone else’s harshness into your own strength.
I did. And so can you.
