Dam Worth It: Taylor Ricci

September is National Suicide Prevention month. If you know me and have been around for a while, you know I am passionate about mental health. I am also passionate about suicide prevention. For my internship, I was at the local crisis hotline and had the opportunity to talk to multiple people who were experiencing suicidal ideation. I have also become passionate about suicide prevention efforts with athletes and would love to incorporate it into my future work as a social worker. Tyler Hilinski, former quarterback of Washington State University died by suicide in January of 2018. His death inspired my goal of working with college athletes and supporting their mental health. In honor of National Suicide Prevention month, I have asked a few friends and advocates to share their stories.

We are going to kick things off with an amazing woman I met at an Oregon State football game (Go Beavs!) at an information booth for the Dam Worth It campaign she is going to tell you about. I'm so super thankful for Taylor's willingness to share her heart with us and I'm excited to share it with you!

Introduce yourself: who are you? What are you passionate about?

My name is Taylor Ricci, I am originally from Vancouver, BC Canada and was an Oregon State Gymnast from 2013-2017. I came to Oregon State University on an athletic scholarship and graduated in 2018 with my Bachelor of Science majoring in Exercise Sports Science, minoring in Chemistry and Medical Humanities. My most prominent and significant passions to date are the sport of gymnastics and a career in medicine. Attending Oregon State University allowed me to pursue both of those passions. I am now a retired Division I Gymnast and currently studying at the University of British Columbia Faculty of Medicine pursuing a future career as a physician.

You are an advocate for suicide prevention and stopping the stigma around mental health. What brought you to this point?

During my senior year at Oregon State University I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease followed by losing a teammate to suicide. The compound effects of these experiences resulted in me dealing with my own personal mental health struggles, and perhaps the most prominent aspect of this was breaking down my own stigmas that I associated with mental health. I was on a full-ride scholarship, had a nearly 4.0 GPA, was team captain. All of these factors painted a picture that I was okay when I was not. My personal experiences along with the experiences of former Men’s Soccer Player Nathan Braaten lead to the creation of the Dam Worth It Campaign that was designed to advocate for sucicde prevention and end the stigma surrounding mental health.

After losing someone to suicide, what questions come to your mind?

What could I have done more? How did I not know? How am I ever going to get past this?

These questions come into my mind every single day. I think that these are common questions that accompany people who lose ones that they love to suicide. Mental health is a hidden epidemic, a lot of the times we cannot see the symptoms that lead to tragedy and I think that this can be the most difficult aspects of sucide.

Now the question I ask myself is, “How can I make sure that every single person knows that they are Dam Worth It?”

Tell me about the Dam Worth It campaign. How did it come together? What are you doing now? What are the long-term goals?

Dam Worth It came together in a coffee shop after Oregon State lost two student-athletes in under one year. Nathan Braaten and I met one-on-one for the first time and asked each other, “what can we do about this?”

Dam Worth It is a mental health campaign that is BY students FOR students. The goal of Dam Worth It is to open up the conversation and increase awareness around mental health by utilizing the platform of sport in partnership with the university. Our ultimate mission is to ​end the stigma​ around mental health. Our vision is to have every student group at Oregon State University represented within the Dam Worth It Campaign. Along with this, we envision that Dam Worth It and Oregon State University will become the gold standard for creating a positive culture of mental health awareness and stigma reduction.

Through our inclusive, representative, and relatable approach to mental health, Dam Worth It normalizes, destigmatize, and spreads awareness about the epidemic of mental health in the college environment. Ultimately, the power behind this campaign comes from the peer-to-peer model that makes every student (regardless of demographic background) know that they are Dam Worth It.

What progress have you seen on college campuses surrounding the topic of suicide? What still needs to be done?

Over the last academic year, Nathan and I have traveled to 12 college campuses, and two national conventions to present about Dam Worth It. As a result, there have been multiple campuses who have started a version of Dam Worth It on their own campus. We hope for many more!

The conversation has started on most campuses and this is important because it is the first step. The conversations need to be matched with adequate resources and that will be the big step most institutions will need to take.

If a friend comes to you and says they are struggling with suicidal ideation, what does that conversation look like?

Disclaimer: I am not a clinical psychologist.

When it comes to friends or people in your life who are struggling I always try to be a listening ear for that person, a shoulder to lean on. I don’t always have something to say but I try and create a comfortable and vulnerable environment where my friends feel that they can open up to me about their struggles, and from there I can help them access the people or the resources that they need.

How can we help with the Dam Worth It campaign?

The Dam Worth It Campaign is relaunching as a university-wide campaign this fall! It will consist of 15 very passionate and talented students and student-athletes along with many ambassadors from across the campus. This group will be organizing Dam Worth It Games for all athletic teams, university club events, and more! I encourage everyone to support the campaign by attending these events and following the campaign on social media! (@DamWorthIt_Campaign)

Grief is Weird

Grief is weird. It’s debilitating. The whole world has stopped, yet somehow it continues to go on. People pass by and continue to be happy. Some days it takes all of my strength to get out of bed to even go to the grocery store, and sometimes I can make it to the store but by the time I get home, I can’t muster the strength to cook the food. So I don’t. An apple with almond butter will do. Or maybe just a bowl of cereal. Some days I can keep myself busy with all the things, but by the time bed comes and my brain slows down, I’m just left with the grief. Those are the hardest days.

I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to write this for weeks. In fact, it is the one task in my bullet journal for this week, but here I am waiting until Friday to start it. I have a week off of class, so I knew it would be the best time to do it.

To be fair to myself, I have a concussion so that plays into why it’s taken me so long. I can pretty much only pray that there aren’t too many typos. I’m not supposed to be looking at the screen too much so I’m trusting my typing skills.

But if I’m really honest, I didn’t want to write this post. I still don’t. But I promised myself and my counselor I would put into words what I don’t want to talk about out loud. It seems like putting my thoughts into words makes everything too final. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I know I’m not. Grief is weird.

It's Tuesday now. I hardly had a chance or any emotional energy to work on this over the weekend so here I am, days later. I should be working on my homework but 1. I left it at home and 2. I can only read for about 10 pages before my brain fog comes (thanks concussion).

This year is not what I had wanted, not what I had planned, not what I had imagined. At all.

I never imagined a world without two of the most important people to me in it. I have never experienced this amount or level of grief, and frankly don't know what to do with it.

My grandma was the most amazing woman. She taught me faith. She taught me the value of hard work. But I remember the moment I figured out she wasn't perfect. I don't know how old I was (numbers are not my thing) but I remember being at her house and looking outside because I couldn't find her. I saw her through the window smoking and I was devastated! I don't know why I'm sharing this right now, except that was the moment I had to come to terms with the fact that even the people I love the most aren't perfect.

But still when I think of my grandma, I see her as close to perfect. She was a great listener and she loved greatly. She and I played this little clapping game, and it always brought me the most joy, even as an adult. My grandma always had Dreyers French Vanilla ice cream in the freezer (ok maybe it was Breyers...and sometimes it was the real vanilla but it was the good stuff). It was also a very good idea to check the milk before pouring it into cereal ...which was almost always Kix and a banana. Grandma made the best creamed onions for holidays, and always cooked up the gizzards 🤮. Our late nights were spent playing cards. No one can play cards like my grandma. We played a lot of Rummy, Kings Corners, and the occasional game of cribbage (but really Rummy was OUR game). In fact, the summer I lived with Nolan, Dana and Mike, Grandma and I had a running score pad.

Grandma and I liked to watch Shirley Temple movies and Touched By An Angel. Mostly, we liked to spend time together. Any time. Doing anything. My grandma was my biggest fan and my favorite person.

Thirty-two weeks ago I drove up to Washington. I was a mess. I kind of took my time. I stopped a few times because I was hungry or sleepy. Then I finally made it. In my head I knew it would be the last time I saw her. I knew she was put on hospice. I knew she was just old. I knew I was coming up to say goodbye. What I didn't know is that she would choose me. My dad and Michelle were on their way up from the beach. It was kinda dark in the room but the big light was so bright so Dana ran home to get a lamp and some dinner for us. So then it was just us. Me and my grandma. Just how we liked it. I told her about my boyfriend and told her I wished he could have met her. She seemed happy about that. I told her about my new internship I would be starting. She was always so proud of me. And then I could tell she was struggling a bit so we prayed and read from Isaiah. Then, we sang a hymn. It was sacred, it was beautiful. And it was in that moment that her breath started to fade and the nurses came in to be with me for her last. She chose that last moment - her first moments with Jesus - to share with me. I cherish that fact. It's made grieving easier, but I miss her every day and long for the day I'm going to see her again.

For the past eight years, I have been a caregiver for the sweetest boy. He and his family stole my heart. They became my family and accepted me as one of their own. I learned so much about myself, about love, and about faith in these eight years. I have grown and learned to love a child as if he were my own. I have learned how much a nonverbal, wheelchair bound child can love and teach me about loving and living. Honestly, I'm not quite ready to even put all of this into words, so I'm just going to keep it real and keep it short right now.

Sweet Charlie ran into the arms of Jesus on August 1st. While the sorrow and pain is still great, I am at peace knowing he is doing all the things he was never able to do earth-bound. Charlie and I also just liked to be together. We loved to go on walks (sometimes we even ran), we loved being outside and reading. We loved to play with the dog and of course watch TV. Our favorite though was football. Football on TV, football practice, or his brother's games. We just loved it all. And my very favorite thing was seeing Charlie so happy. I miss his smile and laughter most of all. In the past month I've watched more old videos on my phone than I ever have in my life (thank you Google).

We always called Charlie the greatest secret keeper. Living his whole life nonverbally, he heard everyone's secrets. We always told him that when he learns to talk we are all going to be in trouble because he is going to spill everything. But I like to think that because he couldn't talk to us, his relationship and communication with Jesus was even sweeter. That he could hear and discern the voice of God better than any of us. That his communication with God was so intimate and sweet that he said everything he wanted to say to us to him. I can imagine the reunion, and know he was greeted with a "well done."

I went to counseling soon after Charlie passed away. My counselor asked me about the pain I was feeling and also respected that I didn't really know what to say or how to say it. She also asked me about the differences with my grandma's passing and Charlie's. It comes down to this for me. My grandma lived a long life. Charlie had so much life, and we desired for so much more time. It seems unfair and in this, it's what I've struggled with the most.

So if you see me soon, I most likely won't be wearing makeup, and I may randomly start crying. But that's just grief. It's weird. But it's also beautiful when you know you're grieving over someone who is being taken care of by the best. I saw somewhere the other day the best definition of grief. It was something along the lines of grief being all the love we want to give to those we miss the most.

I like to think that Charlie was not only greeted by Jesus and his family before him, but also by my grandma. My grandma never met him, but she knew him. I talked about him and showed her pictures of him all the time. She knew him and I like to think she was there when he arrived.

Charlie, I miss you more than words can even say. Grandma, I will always love you more. Take care of that sweet boy for me.