I don’t know when this all started. All i can remember is this deep feeling in my chest that never went away. Constantly there, always. Sometimes it hurt, And sometimes it was just a bother. I’ve attempted (half assed if i must admit) suicide before, I naively overdosed on ibuprofen and paracetemol (i was in such a rush too go i didnt even think about what i was taking, i think i knew, deep down somewhere that this wouldn’t work), then i tried slashing my wrists. I ended up having a panick attack (which ironically saved my life), so i hopped out of the bath i was killing myself in and pulled the plug, wiped off little blood from my arms, picked up all the empty pill packets, suicide letters, The knife and clothes etc and ran to bed, and just slept. I woke up to the annoying sound of my mother hoovering the floor around me, and as i gently gained consciousness in my lumpy matress, tangled up in my douvet i was in so much pain. My body was twitching, my muscles felt weak, i couldn’t move, whatsoever. My head felt as if someone was sittin on it, and my eyes were dazed and half opened. But all i could think was ‘did i honestly try to kill myself . . . and manage to fail’?. I still regret not completing my attempt (as bad an attempt it was). And i think about it everyday, and this happened just under a year ago, i still haven’t quite gotten over it. I managed to stop self harming, of course instead i take to sexual acts, drug and alcohol abuse, i smoke like a chimney when i can, i’ve become an emotional rock.
But, i feel incredibly selfish. Because okay i attempted suicide, i still have ideas too do it. But you hear these stories of people overcoming child abuse, sexual abuse, well any kind of abuse, loosing a loved one ect and you think ‘my god, whats wrong with me! my story is nothing compared to these people’ and then you feel melancholic at the fact that you took the time, explaining a story, which is nothing compared to these strong, beautiful people out there. It’s a wirl wind of selfish stories out there, but all of them, no matter how simple they are have a meaning. And i hope That people who are seriously considering Suicide to please read others stories, and realise that there’s a way out, Do you believe that everything happens for a reason, or did my panick attack save my life out of pure dumb luck? or was it coincidence? Im not religious, (although sometimes i just want to shout ‘thank you lord!’) But sometimes, Its nice to think that there truely is someone out there, who forgives everyone, and listens to our problems. <3
3 comments
I’m trying to think of how to respond without sounding ridiculous… But when I read thru your comment just now, I wanted to wrap my arms around you. There is something out there — I call it God, I think of it as loving life force, and as amorphous as my God is, I pray, and I believe. And it helps.
But what I really want to say to you is that I went through the motions of trying to kill myself twice within a couple of days, when I was about 16. I ended up in a pysch hospital and then in therapy. Life has generally been good to me, but I have struggled with depression all of my life. In 2003, I committed myself as a likely suicide. Now, in 2010, I’m now 52. It’s been quite a journey. But I sure wish I knew *then* what I know now.
— chronic depression has roots, at least partially, in our chemistry. I was in my 40s before I finally accepted medication for depression (after that hospitalization). It helps a lot. Medication doesn’t paper over real problems; it helps those of us who are biologically predisposed to chronic depression to deal with real problems.
— Life is harder work for some of us. Don’t disparage yourself because you’re “not strong enough” or some other negative stuff. Maybe you just feel things more deeply, and maybe that CAN be a very good thing.
— There is ALWAYS a way out and a solution.
— I do believe that things happen for a reason; I believe it can be that way if we choose to believe it, and keep choosing to make things happen for ourselves. (I lost a good job in 2007. It’s a long story, but if I hadn’t lost my job, I would not have met my current husband.)
… and along the same lines, I’m going to write to the woman’s comment just below yours. For God’s sake, if your marriage is killing you, get out.
I was married for 20 years; I have three great children. I had been unhappy for a long time but I stayed in it for the kids. When I became suicidal, I realized that no matter how hard it would be, I needed to divorce him.
I think Grace, or God, or whatever you want to call it, had a strong instinct to live, and you gave it up and went to bed. Thank God.
*You just keep walking girl.* There are good things down the road. I promise.
“God didn’t say it would be easy. He just said it would be worth it.”
Your comment made me smile so much Margaret! thankyou. Was you scared? taking the medication that is. I’m scared, I’m even too scared to tell people that I’m scared . x
Miss Charlotte94 — I am sooooo glad I made you smile. The quick answer is yes, I was scared. And yes, I was petrified for people to know how in trouble I was; I felt weak and stupid; I thought medication was a weak/lame answer to depression….
I don’t think you mean was I scared to take medication to kill myself — right? (I don’t think I mentioned it in my comment — first time I took pills, second time started cutting my wrists) But a definite *yes* to that.
Was I scared to take medication for depression? Pretty much. But I was in my 40s, I had 3 kids, in grade school and middle school, had a great job… and my marriage was literally killing me. I thought about killing myself all the time. It was like a subtext to my life. I’d imagine how I could do it to make it look like an accident so my kids would still get my life insurance… SO, I did get to the end of my rope. And I that day, I had a total breakdown. I left work — long story — finally called 211, and spoke with this incredibly wonderful woman who kept me hanging on and convinced me to call an ambulance and get to a hospital. I did. I stayed in treatment for months. I had incredible doctors and incredible people in my group therapy — these wonderful talented people who — !!! — all wanted to kill themselves.
What I realized is that the medication was as necessary for me as chemo to a cancer patient. AND, it wasn’t all about *me* anyway… “Like it or not girl, you have three beautiful kids, and they need you… So if you have to take meds to help you survive, then so be it. This life isn’t JUST yours — it belongs to your children, your mom and dad, your sister and brother…”
I’m guessing you’re a teenager. If that’s so, you don’t have a long life history, and that’s why being a teenager can feel so sucky; you just haven’t been alive long enough to see all the possibilities, like that life can flatten you until you swear you can’t go on, and then — *surprise* — something happens, and you *do* pick yourself up, and you get through it and come out the other side. When that happens Charlotte, I can’t describe how awesome it feels; just to know that things were sooo bad, and you got through it.
After that, every time in your life when things get really bad, you can think to yourself, ‘well I got through *that* awful time; I can get through this too.’ And you do. And you keep getting stronger.
So, dear charlotte, like I said, you just keep walking. there are good things down the road. I’ll keep checking back. 🙂