My Story Isn't Over; And Neither Is Yours
*Trigger Warning: The following is a story about suicide and suicide prevention.*
This subject is a touchy one but I can't seem to get it out of my head. Considering that I have clinical depression, anxiety and have personally been through it all. I'm talking about suicide. I don’t even know where to start. There is a 99.9% chance you don't know that I have attempted suicide. You may have seen my scars that cover my arms and legs, what you don't see is they are on my stomach, ankles, and chest too.
Another thing you may not know about me is my freshman year, I took over 350 pain pills in an attempt to end my life. At the time I had just turned 14, I had just started living. I didn't tell my mom I was depressed and suicidal. How can you tell the woman that gave you life that you don't want it anymore?
The night I tried to end my life still haunts me. I can still smell the pills, I can still taste the coating on the pills. It was so hard to breathe, I went into the spare bedroom so I could open the window and breathe fresh air. I remember how hard it was to walk. Mostly I remember how it felt when I thought I was about taking my last breath.
The regret, the tears staining my face, the dizziness, I remember it all. When I realized what I had done, I instantly regretted it. I thought about all the things I hadn't done and would never get the chance to do. I had never driven a car, I had never gone to Florida, I had never met my brother, I had never been an aunt, I didn't finish high school, I would never go to college, I never would have seen my sister walk down the aisle, I would have never fall in love , or feel true love and mostly, I wouldn’t have been able to tell my friends and family that I loved them enough. At this point, I thought about all this.
My best friend would think she didn't do enough, my mother would blame herself, my siblings wouldn't have me anymore. I realized I didn't want to die. Although I left letters, I knew they couldn't bring me back, and I knew they wouldn't help. Letters wouldn’t answer the questions that my family and friends had, they wouldn’t wipe away the tears on their faces. The people that love and care about me would never hear my laugh, never see me smile, they would never have me again. I realized someone would find me, most likely my mom and thinking of that, I will never forgive myself for even almost letting that be a possibility. I can never apologize enough for what I did. But what I can do is be here for my friends and family. I can be here for the people who think of suicide.
I still have days where when I wake up and I ask God ’Why am I here? Why keep me alive?’ Then I have other days when everything is perfect and I think ’Why did I want to die?’ I have people that love me. I have people who care. I am so sorry for the people who feel the way I do. But I am here, I will be here for these people, I will live on and I will do whatever I can to help.
If I had one wish, I wouldn't wish for money or successes. I would wish no one ever feels like the way I did. No one ever has to go through these feelings. I think of suicide as ending a book that isn't finished yet.
If you don't know about the Project Semicolon, it is a suicide awareness program. In a sentence there are semicolons and periods, think of it as the period is ending your life and or suicide. You can end the sentence but why end an unfinished sentence when you can use the semicolon to keep it going. Why not use the semicolon to finish the unfinished sentence?