Blogging Challenge Day 3:
WRITE ABOUT A TIME YOU CONSIDERED KILLING YOUR SELF.
This is an issue I haven't talked about much, ever. Which is sad because I think it should be talked about and discussed more often. Everyone in the world has been touched or affected in some one or another by suicide. I don't think that anyone who has contemplated, of attempted suicide can give you one single definite reason as to why they felt that was their only choice. It just comes to a point where that's the only decision left to make. You're mind is in such a different place and thoughts and opinions are so warped it's hard to have a clear, level and rational thought. When it gets to that point you can only think of one answer to every wrong thing in your life, and that's to end it all for good.
The first time I tried to kill myself was in elementary school, I want to say it was 3rd grade.I had a plastic ruler that had broken into a point, and I remember taking it to my chest and just pushing. Trying and trying so hard to break through my skin, but all I got was a pretty deep scratch that turned into a scar. So after that I would take that same ruler and just slap my legs over and over again to see how red/purple I could make my thighs. After that in 6th grade I tried hanging myself. I took some string I had, and tied it to a hook in my ceiling. I had no clue how to tie a noose, and there was no internet then (yes I know I just dated myself and it seems impossible to never have had internet...) so I couldn't look up how to make one. I just tied it around my neck and jumped off my bed. I remember the string just digging in under my chin and not actually closing off my airway, and then the hook being ripped out of the ceiling. After that I still continued to constantly think about ways I could die, think about how I wanted to die so badly. I'm not sure what stemmed these thoughts at such a young age. There are several things it could have been. To me the number one thing was the stress and pressure to fit in. I lived in the "rich" neighborhood, and was "friends" with those rich girls. But I never felt like I was actually wanted there. My parents seemed to have money to spend, but I was unaware of the financial agreement my mother and first step father had. I didn't' realize that my mother had to pay half the bills, her own bills as well as support us with just her pay check, as if she were a single mother. So I didn't always have the most up to date clothing. My hair wasn't' always done cute, or at all. My sisters were 5 and 7 years older then me, teenagers they didn't want to bother helping me learn about.... well anything. I was just annoying to them. I tried, I tried really hard to be what those girls wanted me to be, and that was just worse. No matter what I did they just laughed at me. They were all forced to invite me to birthday parties, and to have sleepovers. However, I can recall time upon time where I had to call and ask if I could go to a sleep over. There was one time this girl Brittany had a party at Rockreation, and everyone was taught how to rock climb and have a lunch party. Well her mom had only booked for a certain amount of girls and I was the odd one out. But she had me meet them all there while they finished, and I watched them all rock climbing while I sat on the stairs. It was things like that, that always happened, always. Small petty things, I look back now on and can't believe 10-12 year olds would do.
Skip several years, and several other days contemplating how I could make everything better by just dying. Don't get me wrong, I had some GREAT times as well. I was involved in school musicals, choir, drama, I danced. I had boys that liked me and I liked them. I met my husband in high school... and I will get to that later. I had some great times, but I couldn't help this tugging feeling deep down that something was just off. Something seemed to almost always be there wanting to drag me down and out.
When I went to college I thought things would be great! I was able to live on my own, make my own schedule have friends I wanted to hang out with. Then James came to say goodbye. He was leaving for his mission. Then as I got to know the girls I was suppose to be friends with, I realized they were just like every other girl I was trying to stay away from my whole life since elementary school. They were snooping through my room, stealing my clothes, talking crap behind my back because I hung out with the older students. I started to stop going to school, which I actually really loved my classes... I just didn't see the point any more. I started to drink, a lot. With those older "friends". I would get so wasted just so I could stop thinking the thoughts I was continually thinking. I would sit in class and and imagine blood running down my arms. Think of how it would stain my clothes. I would count in my head how many pills I had back in my room and how many it would take exactly to end it all. I had no stability, I was falling in every direction while still holding the pieces together the best I could. I was a fake and didn't know who my true self was any more. Then one day I knew if I didn't do something FOR myself, I was about to do something TO myself. I thought maybe if I just talked to someone and understood that I wasn't the only one feeling this lost I could be ok. So I set up an appointment with a school counselor. I told her everything I felt, and everything I was thinking. And we agreed that it was best I got more professional help. My dad came and picked me up from school and I went to a facility for a week to clear my head and get some help. I went through several medications. I hated them all, but I took them. I was numb, and blank to the world. I no longer felt the constant urge to end myself, but I also no longer felt anything. I couldn't connect with people, and I felt emotionally drained. I just dealt with it. I thought this was just how I was suppose to be from now on.
There's a lot of details I could go into, thoughts and feelings I had. This story is incredibly long, because it's not over. I still deal with a lot of these issues. I have my bad days, where I just want to lay in my bed and be away from the world. I have a wonderfully supportive family, and very understanding husband. He knows when I have days like that he can either help or hurt me just depending on how he phrases a simple question. He still stands by me though. He is what helps me more then any pill I could take. He keeps me focused and steady. We talk, and I think talking is the key. We as a society need to talk much more about this. Talk about how you feel, what your thinking, and what you want. Suicide is a horrible way to end, and so lonely, but it is everywhere. Sometimes you have to get to the very end to find your beginning again.
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