I’m a grade nine student from Canada, and I found this website when I Googled suicide on the anniversary of my suicide (today). It has offically been two years since I attempted suicide and I can remember it like it was yesterday. I can only hope that someone can learn from my story.
My parents have been divorced from my sixth birthday and they’ve always been civil (at least in person), but around the time of That Day, they had been badmouthing the other parent right in front of my face and making me choose sides. It got so bad that at one point, my step-father asked my mother and I to move out (I live with my mom every other week as per the divorce agreement).
I remember feeling like I was the problem. Like if I wasn’t here, none of the bad things happening to me and my family would happen. Like if I was worthless and deserved nothing more than to be unloved and treated like dirt. I felt like I had to do something about it.
It had just seemed so easy at the time. The physical process of ending one’s life. I just had to take a bunch of pills and be done with it. After what would have been my last day of school, I went home and grabbed all of the Tylenol (stupidly thinking that I would be gone with just Tylenol) I could find and swallowed them all. What I never took in to consideration was that I would have time to think.
I thought about the good times in my life, all of my friends, my life. But that little voice in my head told me that they won’t care and would be better off without me.
I was always good at speech or letter writing, so I felt that I should at least tell the people I was writing to what it meant to commit suidice. So while the Tylenol was taking its sweet old time to work, I Googled suicide and I found the Suicide: Read This First page.
I didn’t think it could help me, like it was too late, but I stuck around and read the page anyways. After reading it, I knew what I had to do.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up all of the Tylenol I took (no easy feat and I DO NOT reccoment inducing vomit EVER!). I realized that I needed more time to make a real desicion, to know I was doing the right thing.
I called one of my friends and told her my story. She eventually talked me out of it and made me see that there were things worth living for and thatcI shouldn’t give up because whatever was going on will pass. As soon as I hung up with her, I sunk down on my bathroom floor and cried.
I realize that this will probably get no comments because my story isn’t really that bad. In fact, I have no idea why I’m posting this. It’s probably not going to stop someone from ending their life. But if it does, that is what will get me through the day.