I've been feeling compelled the last few days to write about my suicide survival and what it's like to live every single day with suicidal thoughts. While this story is tough to tell, and maybe tough to read, it is also very important.
Let me start with a few disclaimers:
1 - This is not a everyone's story. I know that. This is just my experience. My thoughts and feelings are not all encompassing. But I also know they are not exclusive to me.
2 - The point of sharing this story is not to get anyone's sympathy. It's to provide understanding to people who have never had a thought of suicide. It's also to let those who have had these thoughts know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE!
3 - I know I have mental illness. I don't need a diagnosis. And please know this is all my experience. You won't see statistics or expert findings in this blog. Just know, though, that suicide is not an uncommon thing and it occurs in every age range, every race, every gender, etc.
4 - This is a lengthy read.
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I remember having my first thought of suicide when I was in junior high. I had friends but was not popular. I never had boyfriends - except one boy who was my summer
fling for a couple years in a row. That ended when he wanted to
have sex with me and I refused. He shoved me off the bed and I fell
against the wall. He never spoke to me again. I was involved in band and enjoyed it tremendously but I was not good. I was smart enough to maintain good grades without a lot of effort but not smart enough to be recognized. All of these things, though very different, had one thing in common - being me wasn't good enough. I remember watching a TV show where two boys decided to become blood brothers. Their plan was to sterilize a razor blade by burning it first, and then cutting themselves to swap blood. Now I had a plan. I had access to razor blades and lighters. I was going to kill myself. I was 13 years old and I wanted to die.
Once I hit high school, the same things were true for me, except now I had a job, which also made me feel like I had a purpose. I had a lot of attention from boys, and one in particular seemed to be smitten. His name was Bill and he was my coworker. He was eager to work alongside me, which made work a lot of fun. And finally, I felt like I might be important. With any job, as time went on, the need for someone to be beside me declined. But Bill was still there and always happy to see me. Our work relationship evolved into friendship, and then we grew close enough that he wanted to be more than friends. I did not. He started visiting my work station more frequently, and even started staying after his shifts ended to be with me. He kept trying to goad me into starting a relationship that I'd said repeatedly I did not want. Bill was just another thing I was not good enough for. He wasn't okay with us just being friends. I had no place to just be me. I was uncomfortable everywhere and every day. I finally requested to not work with Bill anymore. I thought that would fix the problem. But he wouldn't leave me alone. He started sitting outside my work place to watch me. And it was easy for him to do because I worked at a drive-thru window! He hadn't actually done anything to me but I still felt unsafe any time he was around. Although we never worked at the same time anymore, I still had to see him at school. We were a year apart in class but had the same lunch hour. Once again, I had to "hide" myself and I began eating lunch in the hallway next to a teacher. I was finally away from him...until he learned of where I was eating. And then he started eating next to me. The only protection I had at this point was the teacher. Again, he hadn't actually DONE anything to me. But I did not feel safe. One day, he was staring at me and wouldn't stop. I finally asked him "what?" He responded to me "if I can't have it, I might as well look at it." I wanted to vomit. And the only way I could imagine he'd ever stop bothering me is if I was dead. I was 17 years old and I wanted to die.
When I started college, I thought I had my chance to make a fresh start - new environment, new routine and new friends. But I was wrong! It was junior high and high school all over again. I didn't have a lot of friends or a boyfriend. I didn't excel at anything. I was in the same place I'd always been - a place I didn't belong. I managed to survive for two full years of college and was about halfway through my third year. I met a boy online and had been able to go visit him twice. When I returned home after the second visit, it was over. Ending the relationship made practical sense - we lived in different states, he was into drugs and alcohol, and I was on a mission to finish college. But in my head, it was one more thing I'd failed at. I'd finally waited until a "real relationship" to surrender myself to someone in a way that cannot be undone. And I still wasn't good enough. There were also other things taking place in my life that I had no control over but had to just deal with. I didn't know how to sort out my feelings. I didn't have anyone to talk to. I was 21 years old and I wanted to die.
And this led to my first suicide attempt. The thoughts had been there for 8 years now. I grabbed a bottle of prescription pills and guess I took about 20. Well, I must have picked the wrong pills because it didn't work. I didn't feel good. I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't think straight. I certainly couldn't ride a bike - I tried! I talked to my roommate about it and soon after got a call from my hall director. She said she was a mandatory reporter and that she was required to call the police. She took a chance on me though. She gave me an option - I could call my parents or she could turn me in. I chose to call my parents. It was the middle of the night. I didn't get the response I wanted initially. I was told to wait until the next day for them to come and get me. It was at this moment that I never wanted to die more. I was even more pissed off that the pills hadn't worked. A short time later, my parents called to say they were on their way. I sat for the next few hours with friends until they arrived. The next day, I found myself in the living room sitting across from a pastor. A man I'd never met. I listened to him tell me how much I needed Jesus in my life, and then it would all be better.
The next week I started outpatient therapy. And it was no picnic! But I thought again, new environment, new routine and new friends, so why not? After being there a couple of weeks, I'd made friends. I was younger than most people there and a few of the women took me under their wing as their "kid." It felt nice to finally have someone care about me. I never shared much with anyone during group settings; I mostly listened. I kept hearing stories of people who'd been abused, lost jobs because of addiction, had their own kids stripped away. Some days I thought I wasn't in such a bad place after all. And then they told me it was time to be discharged. I didn't want to go because I realized that outside of those walls, I wouldn't be any different than I was before. My life would still be a game of me trying to be good enough for everyone. I was 21 years old still and I wanted to die still. This was my second suicide attempt. I had my own medications and was able to convince a friend to share hers with me. This prescription cocktail got me closer to death than I'd ever been. I remember taking the pills, going outside and walking down a hill. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed. I don't know how long it took me to collapse. I don't know how long it took for someone to find me. I don't know how long it took for an ambulance to arrive. I don't know how long I was unconscious.
I spent the next week in an inpatient facility. When I arrived, they took any and everything I had that could potentially be harmful, including my shoestrings. The only bed they had for me was on the addiction floor so I wasn't even able to sleep. Instead, my nights were spent listening to people beg for drugs. I sat most days in group just listening. Any time I wasn't in group, I was coloring. I'm still not sure how any of this was helpful, but they discharged me from there too.
I don't know when someone attempts suicide and it doesn't work
if it's a success or failure. I guess it depends on what happens
next...THIS IS THE BEST PART!
I went with my parents, my best friend and her mother to a Pacers game. My favorite player was Travis Best. He was cute. He was young. He was short. And he was a good player, but he wasn't the best. How's that for irony? While we were waiting near the ticket booth, a woman approached me from behind. I was wearing a BEST jersey, and she said "hey, that's my brother." Thinking there is no way I'm seriously meeting Travis's sister, I chatted with her for a minute and then we parted ways. My friend's mom couldn't let it go though. She followed her and verified she was indeed his real sister. She gave her the short version of why I wasn't in college at that time, knowing I just needed one thing to give me a perk. Travis's sister returned to me to tell me she'd arrange a meeting with him after the game. She told me when to leave my seat, where to go and where he would be. I was so surprised. Things didn't go exactly as she had described, but I got to meet him anyway. He signed my jersey and said he had talked with his sister about me. I don't think I quit smiling for a week afterwards. I still have the jersey, framed and in my bedroom. While it's painful to go back to these days, seeing this jersey every morning and every night still makes me smile.
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My last suicide attempt was the one that landed me in the hospital. While I don't actively try to kill myself anymore, I feel most days like giving up. The thoughts never go away. They're always there.
It's easy for people to say "you have it so good," and "think about all of the blessings you have." Those are very practical and common responses. And being suicidal doesn't mean I discount the good things in my life. I don't forget that things could be worse. But the thoughts don't just turn off. Listing good things doesn't eliminate mental illness.
In the darkest and saddest moments, thinking of how easy it would be to just escape everything comes so easy. It's easy to leave a place, or go where no one else is, to be alone. But there is no way to escape yourself.
Telling people about these thoughts and about these attempts doesn't make me weak. And it's not simply for seeking attention. Yes, I want someone to pay attention because I need to know someone cares. I look for validation anywhere I can get it. One small word or gesture can change things tremendously. But when it doesn't come quickly, the dark thoughts take over. And when it all settles down, I can tell myself how ridiculous some of the thoughts are. But in the moment, they are so big and so difficult to overcome.
Sometimes admitting these things is helpful and sometimes it makes me feel shameful. I don't want to let anyone down because that's what I've been trying to avoid my entire life. This is also why I have a hard time trusting people. I even try to push
people away sometimes, or stop them before they get too close, so that
it's one less person I have to worry about letting down, and letting me
down. I'm happy to say there's a few that won't go away! ☺
No one wants to wake up every day and have these thoughts. And it's not as easy as just saying "today is going to be a great day." I have days where I can't find anything wrong on the exterior, yet nothing seems right on the inside. I've been able to learn coping mechanisms, and ways that I can make myself feel better when no one else is available. It's usually music or writing!
Being suicidal for two thirds of my life has been both a blessing and a burden. The burden part is obvious! The blessing...that's not so obvious. Living with these thoughts forces me daily to find something good and to accept small victories. I am able to tell someone I understand how they feel and know that it's true and not just cliche.
If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, please reach out to someone, ANYONE!
These are suicide hotline numbers, available 24 hours a day.
United Kingdom 116 123
United States 1-800-273-8255
Canada 1-800-456-4566
Ireland 116 123
Philippines 2919
Australia 131 114
I hope my story helps just one person. And I think of my attempts as successes, not failures!
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