To start off, i’ve had a history of mental disorders and depression issues for countless years of my life, but never thought of committing suicide. My grandmother committed suicide before i was born, and i saw how it effected my mother, and my grandfather, and never ever wanted to do that to someone else. No matter how bad it got, i stuck in there.
On December 7, 2007, My best friend committed suicide. I wasn’t aware of any deep trauma or depression in her, so of course, it came as a total shock. I can still remember where i was, what i was doing, and who i was with when i recieved the phone call on my cell phone. I was in such a state of shock that i didnt even cry, but i was speechless. I didnt want to believe it at first, so i told the girl that called me not to mess with me like that. In my heart, i knew she wouldn’t mess with me like that, but my brain didnt register. For the next couple days after that, i didnt cry either. I wondered, what is wrong with me? do i not care about her? why am i not crying like everyone else. Then at her wake and funeral, i kept my composure for the most part because i wanted to be strong for her. I wanted her to know even though i loved and missed her, everything was going to be okay. When i got home from the funeral, i broke down. I broke down so bad that it made my mother cry.
Again, after that, i was majorly depressed and had thought about suicide myself but knew i’d never do that to anyone. I knew how it hurt now, I knew what my mom had gone through so many years before and i promised i wouldn’t resort to that.
That was until the February after. I don’t really know what came over me, but i tried to overdose. I told my friend that i was with what i had done, and she called my other friend and told her what had happened. They rushed over to my aid. I was taken to the ER and then put into an inpatient psychiatric facility for the next week. I came out feeling refreshed and okay. They had put me on medications. I thought this was the end of it, but i was wrong.
Throughout the next couple of months, i tried it several more times, including slicing my wrists, putting myself deliberately into very dangerous situations hoping somebody would hurt me, and trying to strangle myself. After each attempt, i felt guilty so i told. I’ve been in almost every inpatient facility in my area, and nothing had helped. I was confused, scared, and alone.
Things had been okay, until a year after the first attempt. When i ate 300 ibuprofens. This attempt was one of the most significant in my memory because after this, my friends had deserted me. All but one. I saw my true friends that day. I was so alone, and so depressed that i stopped talking to the one person that wanted to help me. I felt that i didnt deserve a friend like that, and i didnt wanna bring her down with me. Everyone was better off without me.
Not every single time that i was put into an inpatient facility was for a direct attempt, some were for threats.
Things were okay for 5 months after that.
Then, i broke down again. I consumed 75 Tylenol, almost 4 times the lethal dose. and waited 2 hours to tell anyone about it. If i had waited any longer i would have died a painful death, of liver failure, and bleeding among things.
I want whoever reads this to know that i am not writing this because i am cured, and i am better. Because that is so far from the truth. I struggle every day with suicidal thoughts, actions, and even suicidal words. I really am on the brink of another episode, and although i’ve been every where i can go for help, i dont know where to turn. Thank you.