My name is Kristin! I am 15 years old. About 8 months ago now, my life was a bit hectic. I was living in Thailand at the time. I had a handful of friends, but I never got to hang out with them, because they were busy during the week and I was busy on weekends. SO therefore, I felt very alone most of the time. Being on the opposite side of the globe from everything I had ever known didn’t help much either. I felt lost and alone. I didn’t think anyone cared about how I felt. One day, I was at home alone, and I felt like i couldn’t take it anymore. I quickly wrote some letters to everyone who meant anything to me, left them on my desk, and headed downstairs. I went for the kitchen. At this point, all I could think about was getting it over with. I thought about overdosing but that would take too long. Tears ran down my face as I picked up the large knife my mother used to cut meat. I wasn’t thinking about anyone buy myself. I was ready to end it all just to get out of the pain. At the point where I was about to seal the deal, a miracle happened. I got a phone call from my best friend, Kate. The ringing of the phone brought me to my senses. I don’t remember what exactly she wanted, but at the time, she had no idea what she had just stopped me from doing. When i got off the phone, I knelt down in my kitchen floor and let out all my emotions that I had been bottling up over the past few weeks.
The Next day, my friends and I had a mall/pool party to celebrate a fictional character’s birthday! They had no idea what i almost done the day before, and I wasn’t about to tell them. I went, feeling a little down, and had a great time, but for a very long time, I kept my secret to myself, not telling anyone what had happened. That was one mistake I regret making. I never told my parents myself. If i had, it may not have gone as far as it did.
Two months later, I had finally received news that our family was returning to the USA for good. By this time, my problem had been weighing heavy on me. Mikayla and her sister had me over for a sleepover just before I left. I had to tell someone and I knew she cared. So I told her that night as we were lying in the bed. I am still not sure to this day what she thought when I told her. But she knew I needed help. She helped me tell Kate the next day. At the time, I was very hesitant, but i’m glad i told her and Kate. Without them, I wouldn’t have made it this far. There was only one friend left to tell and that was my friend Asia. With a little help from Mikayla, I told her the next week when we all went ice skating together. Even though I didn’t feel comfortable telling people at the time, I know now that I did the right thing. They helped me through those hard times and have always been there for me.
My parents didn’t find out until a couple of months after that when Kate told her mom and her mom told my mom. Seeing the look on my dad’s face when he found out was heartbreaking. I had tried to destroy something he loved dearly.
My point is that it isn’t worth it. Killing yourself isn’t the answer to your problems. Neither is harming yourself. Suicide doesn’t stop the pain, it merely passes it on to someone else! If I had gone through with it, it would have driven my family mad. I would have only been passing on my pain to other people. Life is a precious thing that we only get one shot at. It shouldn’t be wasted only because we think we can’t handle it anymore. If you think suicide is the answer, think again. Think about every person that has ever loved or cared about you. Think about all the things you have ever done in life. Think about your memories with friends. Think about the good times and don’t dwell on the bad. It’s okay to cry! It’s okay to show emotion! We all get that way every once in a while! But the important thing is that we keep pushing through. We have to keep climbing if we are ever going to get over the mountain.
4 comments
No one here is going to listen to what you have to say, honestly. Telling them that suicide isn’t the answer is something they’ve heard time and time again. It never helps, especially when it comes from someone so young who didn’t even act on their suicidal ideation (I mean sure you picked up the knife, but you didn’t do anything with it; and if you had, cutting to kill is hardly ever lethal, you probably wouldn’t have died). I don’t mean to disrespect your personal experience with suicide, but please don’t try to instill hope in the hearts of the downtrodden and those who have lived many years and haven’t been happy for many of them. While you are talking to people around your age (I am young, almost 20), you are also talking to people much older than both of us who have been through the motions–to them, your entire last paragraph is garbage (well, and to me, but I like to pretend I’m more far-gone than I probably am).
I’d also like to ask why your username is Tammy when you said your name is Kristin, but that’s another question for another day.
There can be wisdom in youth just as there can be wisdom in experience. I don’t think it’s fair to judge her just because she is young or didn’t go very far.
I can’t see the hope she does either but I’m glad she found such a beacon on the dark sea we dwell on. She made it to shore and wanted to throw out a rope so that others might pull themselves closer even if not in. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. Maybe no one sees that rope in the dark and maybe no one ever will, but she cared enough to cast it. She cared enough to acknowledge us even though she could have chosen to forget like so many of the people in the world do. The world could use more people who care, not less, so please don’t be so hard on her.
I’m so glad you found support and help, Tammy. But schema is right. You haven’t been ‘down’ long enough yet to understand how a chronically suicidal person feels. I had an incident like yours in my teens. My parents drove in the driveway before I could act on it, and I truly didn’t know where it came from, that wish to die. It took 8 more years of unbearable emotional pain before I tried for real. 8 years. By that time, I couldn’t cry, only cut. It took two years of therapy for me to be able even to cry. I did get help though. I was locked in a mental ward. But it’s been a lifelong struggle to stay alive.
I agree with Schema. I am glad you found help. Do understand it was a short lived moment of insanity in your adolescence. Many of us endure years or even decades of hell, trying everything in our power to get out of it. Then it slow wears on you. Despair is reached after innumerable attempts. To be honest, death can be a blessing and a relief.