Suicide Awareness

I meant to post this blog yesterday, but didn’t get around to it because I was too busy enjoying my life, which is something that I wish I would’ve been doing 8 years ago.

 Suicide is something that hits close to home for more than one reason. I’ve made previous posts about this (not sure if it’s been on this blog or my old one), and people that know me well already know this, but I’m going to write about it anyways because I believe that it helps me (and maybe even others that are fighting a silent battle),  with what can still be a struggle today.

Suicide is everywhere. I would venture to guess that everyone knows someone who has committed suicide, or has either thought about it, or attempted it themselves. I am all of the above. When I was a freshman in college I attempted suicide. I believe if it wasn’t for my friends and the good Lord I would’ve succeeded in that attempt. I won’t go into detail (the details are boring) but I know I was close to succeeding because I was unconscious for about 12 hours. When I woke up I had no idea where I was, but my mom and my college roommate were at my bedside holding my hand and talking to me. I had to ask “what happened?” when I woke up. Which is funny considering I did it to myself.  I spent about three days in the hospital to ensure that all of the drugs I had put into my system made their way out, that I didn’t have any long lasting health affects, and to observe my well being in general. I had a psychological evaluation while I was there, and started counseling soon after I was released. I had family and friends come to visit me, which I still can’t figure out. Why would you want to visit someone that landed themselves a stay in the hospital after they tried to kill themselves? Moral support, I guess. I’m not complaining that I had visitors, but the friends that weren’t visiting me, were pissed at me. I didn’t comprehend why right away, but eventually I did.

All of this happened so fast, even though it was something that  I had been contemplating for quite a few months leading up to it. I didn’t have the day or the time planned out, it was more of an “I’m ready” type of decision I would say. Yes, I had been drinking. No, that wasn’t the “reason” I did it.  A lot of people question how you could ever do such a thing, or ever think your life is THAT bad. Mostly they wonder how you could be so selfish. This is something I never understood, until about a month later when my best friend (from high school) called to tell me that her dad had committed suicide. It wasn’t until I went to the prayer service and realized that it could’ve been me they were there to say their goodbyes to. I remember her mom giving me a hug and saying something along the lines of “don’t you ever do something so stupid again, call someone”. And that may have been my first “ah-ha” moment. It most definitely helped me realize that I had people that loved me, and that people were willing to help. Yes, it was stupid. But that most definitely was not the beginning of my road to “recovery”. It took a lot more than that, but it was definitely a good start to help the process.

I can’t possibly go into enough detail about what was going through my head in the time leading up to that night to help you understand better. Nor can I explain everything going through my head while I was trying to recover from that incident, both physically and mentally. I can tell you that once a person gets so low that suicide “seems” like the only option, the only escape, there isn’t much you can do to convince them otherwise, unless you know that person well enough to work with them. People that are depressed are tricky to handle. They don’t need your sympathy and they don’t need you to tell them what to do. They need support, they need a shoulder, and they need an ear. Most need professional help, which could be whole different ball game if they are in denial.

Anyways, I got a little bit off topic there.  The point is suicide is NOT the answer.  There are people out there, whether professionals or otherwise, that are willing to help. Everyone has SOMEONE they can talk to. A family member, friend, spouse, co worker, SOMEONE will listen, if you ask. Am I ashamed of my decision to try to end my life? Most certainly. Am I embarrassed to admit that I was there, in that deep, dark place? No, I am glad I was there so I can better appreciate the life I have now. Was I thinking about anyone else when I made that decision, took that step? No, I was only thinking of myself. I was thinking that my life was too terrible to live, and I was not about to ask anyone for help. I refused to believe that I had any “real” friends, that anyone loved me, that anyone would even care that I was gone. Boy was I wrong about that.

I will end this blog entry by saying that I really wouldn’t be who I am, or where I am today if I wouldn’t have made such a selfish decision 8 years ago. I am not “proud” of my actions by any means; I simply realize that it’s part of who I am. And that will never change. There are still days I struggle. I have not been that low again, because I learned how to cope before things get that bad. I am not ashamed to admit that I do have a history of depression and it’s something that I live with and deal with to this day.