My Experiences With Suicide

(written at 2am on my palm while I tried to sleep.)

I know what its like to look around and say I don’t want to be alive anymore. I also know what its like to see my family’s reaction to that same statement. Neither one is a pretty situation.

Remembering the days when I thought the only way to solve my problems was by committing suicide are definitely not pleasant ones, although I find myself thinking about them often. Usually when imp wondering where my life is going.

In terms of my future I really hadn’t thought past getting married and having a baby. Those goals and my family (and later on) my husband are what gave me the strength to stay alive.

When I was in high school my brother’s ex-girlfriend and I had become pen pals after she returned home to Sweden. In one of my letters to her I confessed that I was very sad and depressed all the time and the only thing I wanted to do was just run the blade of a mini x-acto knife up my arms and end it. About a week later my other brother, during a fire drill at school pulled me aside and told me we were ditching and to get in his car. He didn’t tell me where we were going or why but I recognized the route to my mothers school. Entering her office I could not even think about why we were here except that I was in trouble again and maybe I should have pressed down harder last night. At that moment I was so sick of fighting with my mother, and so fed up with being outcasted and all the name calling and bullying from my classmates that I wanted it to end in the easiest way I could think of.

When my brother and I went into my moms office the first thing I noticed was that she was as pale as a sheet, the other was that she was more upset then id ever seen her.

My mother locked the door and the 3 of us sat down in her office. She gave me a chance to come clean asking me what was the matter. I had no idea where she was going so I just shrugged. She then asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I began to cry as my brother (who I thought was pissed off) ran into the bathroom of her office. All I could think was how did she find out. And how could I make all this go away as quickly as possible. It felt like my mother was madder at me then she'd ever been. Later I realized that she was scared to death and was searching for a solution, whereas all I wanted was a way out.

I later learned that my savior was in Sweden. After my pen pal received my letter she called my brother who quickly called my mom. There was talk about therapy and hospitals and such but it would be a while before I actually got to a psychoanalysts office. I had thought that my secret would be safe halfway around the world. I now thankfully see that it had not.

I pretty much put the thoughts of suicide out of my head for a while. I was still getting into fights with my parents and my brothers, I still felt completely outcasted at school. But I was so afraid of what might happen if I tried to kill myself and failed. Ironically I was scared shitless that if I tried, my mother would have killed me.

I later learned that while my mother was scared and yelling and trying to figure out why and my father was concerned and trying to comfort me as much as possible, one of my brothers was so angry at me he probably wanted to throttle me. Being the first to find out your sister is suicidal couldn’t have been easy for him and seeing how strong he thinks everyone should be, he made no secret of the fact that he thought I was a stupid selfish coward for wanting to end my life at 16 years old. Lets just say for the record, not the best way to talk someone off the ledge, so to speak.

Eventually I got into therapy and on antidepressants and thought off killing myself slowly got pushed to a faraway corner of my mind.

Fast-forward about 6 years, I met the man who would become my husband, and through him made a ton of friends. I had a decent job doing tech support and it looked like my life was starting to make sense. Then all of a sudden those feelings of hopelessness and unworthiness came back. But instead of seeing a way out I was scared out of my mind. I had anxieties about work. All I did was watch TV and cry, never really caring about the characters I was watching, while I was at my boyfriends’ house. (I rarely spent time at home once I met Dan) and while I lay in his room my mind would see a pair of nail clippers or scissors and without trying to or wanting to I’d imagine pulling those sharp metal tools across my skin. This time I didn’t write a letter to a faraway land, I went to my doctor. While waiting I had thoughts of smashing the picture that hung in the exam room so I could cut my skin. Not necessarily to die but just to feel something else, something other then sadness. That afternoon I was voluntarily admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I stayed there a week, tried new meds, and met some very nice people. I also met some very nasty people. I cried myself to sleep my first night there. Wondering how id gotten back to this point. My life was infinitely better then it was 6 years earlier. I had little to no contact with anyone I went to high school with. And I had a bunch of friends who accepted me for who I am.

After leaving the hospital I was back in out patient therapy, taking more meds and trying to get my life going. About a year later I figured out my own warning signs and took myself off my meds. (Having ADHD and being on meds since the age of 6/7 didn’t leave me wanting more meds in my life). So I achieved my goals. I’ve been married for just over 2 1/2 years, I have a beautiful daughter and so many friends who truly know and care about me.

Maybe I’ll check out fund raising or charity work to support suicide prevention. It’s something to look into.

Well its 2am and my brain is empty. Goodnight.