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The closest I ever came to killing myself

I’ve just needed to get this story off my chest. It’s been two years, and I’ve only told two friends and my councilor. This isn’t much of a story, but when I begin to think about suicide I remember the saving thought that I had. A lot of the time we feel so alone in the world. It can be for many reasons, but I think what I learned is, you’re not alone. No matter what you want to believe to make choosing suicide easier, you’re not alone, someone will still feel grief for you when you pass. For some people that’s not much of reason to stop. But I would encourage anyone who is thinking about it to sit down, be honest with yourself, and make a list of people that would probably miss you when you are gone. I guarantee that list will be long enough to reconsider. It doesn’t have to be your very best friends and family only, put down that teacher that always smiles and says hello to you, the girl in math class who asks for a pencil every once in awhile and talks to you while walking to your lockers, or maybe that one kid who doesn’t have many friends that you sit with at lunch on occasion. These people may not be your closest or best friends, but I know each and everyone would be negatively affected by your suicide. Anyways, I’m rambling. I’ll get on with the story:

When I was 17, I was coming home from the movies with a friend. The night was great. I was happy to spend that time with her. But as I was on the hour long drive home something negative just hit me. I felt numb throughout my entire body, I didn’t listen to music, I didn’t even really pay attention to the road. I just felt whatever was going on inside.
I was home alone, so when I got into the garage I just closed the door behind my car. I revved it once or twice. I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the shit that I’ve been through, what hell awaited me back at school, and how my parents and I were not getting along as great as we used to. Then I thought about how insignificant I was. I was (and still am) a nihilist, I knew religion was just a way to provide some people comfort while others rose in power. I knew that. I didn’t care if I was right and that I’d just become nothing, that I’d simply cease to be. And I didn’t even care if the alternative was true. I just wanted to end the overwhelming numbness I felt.
I sat back and waited. Eventually I was getting impatient. I cursed having a huge garage because it was taking so long and fear began to prickle through. The image of my mother sobbing on the ground, next to my car and my lifeless body came to mind. I imagined her screaming through the tears, trying in vain to wake up her only daughter. I thought of my dad, talking to me when no one is around and asking how I could be so selfish, and why didn’t I talk to him if I was in that much pain. I thought of my best friends and how they will never understand why I left them so suddenly and without saying goodbye. I thought of my friend that I had just seen an hour ago, asking herself for the rest of her life if it was somehow her fault or if she could’ve saved my life.
Something else bust through that temporary numbness. It was the feeling of being absolutely loved by so many people. Yes, I was being bullied relentlessly at school. Yes, I was fighting more often with my parents. Yes, I had been through trauma as a young child. But none of that felt like a justifiable reason to take my own life at that moment. I felt that love, and I felt a knot in my stomach begin to grow.
I calmly turned off the car, and went inside to shower and think about what exactly just happened. I thought of how close all of those things were to happening. In a way, I’m glad that when I was thinking about going through with it, I chose such a slow method. It definitely bought me time. I have many guns because my dad and I hunt together, so I’m forever grateful that I didn’t choose that method.

I almost committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning, but thanks to how slow it was taking, the thought of how much harm it’d do to the people I care for stopped me.


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Limited_infinity 1/19/2016 - 7:03 pm

Fair play, that’s an awesome story. I really like the fact you’ve shared it, it’s nice to hear success stories once in a while. Thank you 🙂

StayOrGo 1/19/2016 - 7:43 pm

Your story is exceptionally uplifting. For a moment, I forgot I was reading this on SP, as it seemed more like a marketing rendition for suicide prevention. Thanks for sharing here.

lost.soul.hopeful.heart 1/19/2016 - 8:34 pm

Thank you both, I’m really glad to hear my story helps you guys. 🙂

muspelhem 1/19/2016 - 8:55 pm

I really like this post.

My personal problem is my empathy seems to be dead. I’m not sure if it’s all these years of therapy, being encouraged to focus on myself, or if I’ve been damaged by the medication. Maybe I just am this way. I’m aware that others say they like me, or show it. But somehow it just doesn’t register. It’s as if I feel nothing for them. Because I feel like sh** and want it to end, I just seem to not really care what others think about me. Or about anything. It’s as if they don’t even feel real. It’s really scary when I write it out. I sound like a bloody psycho.

I guess I don’t really trust anyone anymore. Ever since falling (mentally) ill, I’ve pretty much felt abandoned. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that everyone is busy with their own life, and can’t really help me. Anyway, maybe that isn’t even what I need. Maybe I just need to get my act together and get it over with.

Um. Sorry to bomb your post.

lost.soul.hopeful.heart 1/19/2016 - 10:52 pm

Muspelhem, I understand what you are going through. Almost a year ago I began feel that way. Sometimes, I just don’t care. I don’t have any love for my boyfriend, my friends, or my family. It’s a learning process for me. But I’ve been working with a councilor on how to build relationships, and accept love in return. I’ve been doing mindfulness exercises, and I’ve learned how to start communicating some of the doubts and fears I have.
Often times I feel like my friends aren’t really my friends, and that it’s some sort of cruel joke. But then I find some things that reassure me that they really do enjoy spending time around me. It takes a lot of hard work, and honestly it’s one ***** of a battle but it’s really started to improve. So don’t give up hope.
Oh man, I’m sorry I must really sound like some super positive, upbeat shmuck. I just really enjoy helping people who are going through similar things like me. And as cliched as it it sounds, I’m here for ya.
I’m glad you liked the post. 🙂

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