So I am new here, I’ve read some of your stories and from what I’ve read you all seem like such strong, kind, loving caring people.
I know people have this attitude towards suicide and the word strong does not come up very often.
However yes you are strong!
You have made it this far and I hope with all my heart something will come to you to help you through your dark times and help you towards a light (not particularly a religious one, but something that will give you hope to carry on).
I guess my story is a survival story, I am now 26, at the age of 20 I was admitted to a psychiatric ward for an attempted overdose. By this time this was my third hospitalisation for attempted over dose.
That third time was honestly what I had hoped would be my last, I honestly could not see any future for myself, I was stuck in this bell jar and I could not see anything beyond it. I remember the morning I woke up early, I was so distraught I could not sleep and it was all I was thinking about. I drove my car down to the beach had a full bottle of Valium and I took all of them, I was also taking stilnox at the time and luckily I had none on me as I had finished them previously. I sat in my car considering whether or not I should go down to the water for a swim.
I didn’t go, I passed out in my car only to wake up realising I was still here, I felt so stupid, I regretted not having stilnox, I regretted not going for that swim.
But now I don’t, I still wonder what would have happened should those two factors had of been different. I was admitted to hospital to the psychiatric ward where I met a friend whom was in a similar position to myself, we became very close and are still friends to this day. We do not talk all the time but if either of us are not in the right frame of mind we will reach out for each others help.
If you are wondering why I was suicidal and what lead me there I will tell you, compared to everyone’s story I feel mine is insignificant in comparison. I grew up with an abusive alcoholic mother, living with her for years had taken its toll on me by the time I had gone to live with my Father. As a teenager living with my Father I was experiencing depression I could not explain, which in turn led to very self destructive behaviour, which my Father could not particularly handle. By then he had met a new wife and started a new family, he decided that he wanted to move away with them and I moved in with an Aunt.
Still acting out in self destructive behaviour, consuming drugs and alcohol which did not help my situation at all, I was severely depressed which let to my attempted overdose.
I have been diagnosed with depression since the age of 16, if memory serves me correctly. It is honestly something I battle with everyday, although some days are better than others.
After that last attempt at taking my life, I thought I had hurt enough people that I love and I can’t do this anymore.
Since then I have seeked solace in the things that I love and am currently studying to become a Social Worker, I am not there yet but hopefully one day will be qualified.
I came to this site today because I was struggling, having depression and a low self esteem makes it difficult to have close relationships with people as they do not understand what is going through my head and honestly 99% of the time neither do I.
I question everyday if I will ever be happy and honestly I don’t know if I ever will be, no amount of counselling or antidepressants has helped, I still have the dark thoughts in my mind but I fight them every day and will hopefully not give up!
Thank you for reading my story if you could suffer through the novel I’ve written.
I hope I can be an ear to listen to any of you wanting to talk and hopefully offer some support.
Please remember every life has value and every person can contribute something beautiful to the world!
Much love,
Jesss
2 comments
You are very bright. I will be thirty in November. I don’t know if I’ll make it. My mother killed herself when she was 34. I miss her constantly. I was around thirteen when she died. She was one of the only family members I had that was nice to me and cared, though she was mostly a raging lunatic to those around her.
I have a death wish; It is with me always. Now I’ve started binge drinking and drank enough to kill myself the other night, albeit I still live.
The only other person that has deeply cared about me (my grandmother) is sick with cancer. I try to be there for her, act strong and pretend seeing her suffering isn’t ripping me to pieces inside. When I leave her home I am reduced to hysterics in my car. She’s all I have left.
“from what I’ve read you all seem like such strong, kind, loving caring people.”
You should probably read some more and rethink this statement. This is a suicide forum, we’re all fucked up to some extent.