Searching for Serotonin is a profound memoir chronicling your life and the adversity that you faced while growing up. Why was this an important book for you to write?

It’s not often I see mental illness written from a perspective from a minority like myself. I’ve seen a few, but up until the impact COVID, the topic of mental illness and childhood adversity weren’t exactly topics I saw brought up in mainstream conversation. I know that everyone in life experiences difficulties, so I knew that I wasn’t writing something no one had ever heard about, but I believed my perspective and the way I could word my memories and experiences were unique in style. The works I had read up until I wrote mine were from the perspectives of those in the psychiatry field and these were helpful, but mostly sympathetic and I craved empathy. I wanted to hear stories from people who knew the feeling of walking through hell and back, and just trying to figure out everything as a human being. I didn’t want theories; I wanted practice. I needed to see students of mental illness in action, not just the teachers of the subject.

I appreciated the candid nature with which you told your story. What was the hardest thing for you to write about?

Thanks, the hardest part to write was about my own weaknesses and screw ups. I think in any story, especially in our personal lives, alot of people want to be a hero, the good person, the innocent, the one who overcomes the fires of life and comes out unscathed, but that is not reality, and that doesn’t make us inherently terrible. We are human, wonderfully and frustratingly complex. People have their ups and downs and if someone is really going to heal from a traumatic past like myself, we have to learn to embrace both strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices and understand that we each have been hero & villain, winner & loser in our walks of life. The vulnerability in my book was the hardest to write about because who naturally wants to display their cringy flaws for the opinionated world to see and criticize? Very few. Because of that and the way I grew up with stuffing my most honest feelings and mental illness issues down behind a mask of achievements and accolades, the only way to reach people on sensitive topics like this, is to be the first at the pain, and become an ant, standing out in the scorching sun holding my own proverbial magnifying glass above me.

What do you feel is a common misconception people have about suicide?

Good question. When I had a career in analyzing suicides and homicides, I had to hop into the minds of the deceased and read over their case files and medical histories. Because of this perspective and my own battle with it, I have varied ideas, but if there is a concept that’s been irking me recently is that concept of others assuming a certain type of person won’t or has no reason to think about suicide. Maybe we think they are too rich, too famous, too smart, too talented, too beautiful, too young, too ‘blessed’, WHATEVER, to have something so dark cross their minds, but it’s a shameful generalization of a life we assume we fully know based external or material circumstances and superficial understandings. In my book, I talk about how another psych ward patient didn’t think that I looked “like someone who wanted to commit suicide.” I wasn’t upset with them, but it did get me thinking as far as trying to figure out who actually might look that way in their eyes. That’s a major problem to an already devastatingly silent illness. Like, what does that even mean? There is no such thing–to me–as a surefire type or outward visual of a person who’s bound to take their own life. If that were true, I’d argue we could reduce suicides significantly, but it’s not, is it? We tend to generalize other people too much and put them in boxes and are shocked when they don’t fit where we’ve placed them. Because of that box, I was actually initially afraid to share with anyone that I wrestled with suicide concept too, multiple times. My own family expressed their doubts when I opened up to them about it and my depression as they said things like: “you shouldn’t feel that way,” or “you are too young for something like that. What do you possibly have to worry about?”

Insensitivities like these, no matter the intent, need to be carefully reviewed before spoken toward anyone trying to confess their struggle as that may be the last time they ever open up. We don’t often take the time to hear someone else’s story or struggle without filtering it through our biases or personal perspective on life. If we really want to try and tackle mental illness and suicide, we can’t afford to further invest in the generalized boxes or unfiltered expectations we have for people we don’t know personally anymore.

What do you hope is one thing readers take away from your book?

I hope they look at my piece and realize the valuable reality of healing and overcoming trauma. These can’t be Hollywood-ized. The process isn’t filled with sunshine and rainbows, but that doesn’t make the thunderstorms less beautiful. I want them to see the human side of having a mental illness and that although not all of us have an ideal upbringing or life experience, that doesn’t mean we are powerless to move forward in the ways that we reasonably can. I don’t want my book to show a false idea of a “fixed” broken person, because I’m not. I’ll never be “fixed,” but I can still be “full.” Fill my life with better memories, better relationships and a better version of myself for as long as I’m alive.

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