Being an awkward and goofy 7th grader, I bounced my 3 ring binder off my head like something out of the Three Stooges in a joking manner. My teacher told me to get my father on the phone. She told him I had made a suicidal gesture(I'd had a bout with SI previously she was aware of). We were referred to a local family crisis center, the icy look of anger from my father put me on edge, which the workers picked up on.
Next thing I know I'm off for a six day stint on a psych ward, and put on powerful antidepressants. This was 20 years ago, before it was known that antidepressants make teens more likely to punch their own ticket. Three months later, I actually make a gesture, and wind up in a worse hospital on even more powerful drugs.
I've had depressive periods as an adult, but I choose to bottle them up. I don't trust psychiatry anymore, and I value my freedom. I also carry a much greater respect for the humble three ring binder.