People often make comments about suicide such as:
“How could somebody be that selfish?”
“How could somebody do that to themselves?”
“How could someone be so ungrateful?”
“How could someone with such a great life take it away like that?”
I understand these comments, because these are the things that I used to also think. These are the things I would often say when I heard news that somebody had taken their own life. These are the things that I thought when I did not understand.
Why would somebody want to die? And even worse — why would they want to kill themselves? Aren’t they afraid of the pain? Aren’t they afraid of what happens after this life?
I could never understand the concept of suicide. It just seemed like a horrific way to die.
Now here I am sitting here talking about my own experience with suicidal thoughts and suicide.
As my depression deepened and my anxiety advanced, my drive for life completely decreased, I thought that there was no way out of these feelings. I thought that this was how I was going to feel for the rest of my life and I knew that there was no way that I could live like this forever.
This is when the thoughts of suicide not only slowly creeped in on me, but decided to rapidly attack me. The thoughts were overwhelming and it was as if there was a demon inside of me telling me, “Kill yourself, it will make everything better, it will take all the pain away.”
“Come on, just do it, you have no future, there’s no point for you to live another day.”
I constantly heard this voice all day every single day. It was like somebody was holding a gun to my head but not pulling the trigger, it was like I was just waiting for the moment to happen, I was just waiting for the time when it would finally happen.
Everyday the thoughts only got worse instead of better, stronger instead of weaker, and I felt like I was finally losing the battle that I had been fighting against for so long.
I listened to these voices and I began my research for a way that I could do it, a way that I could take away my own life, with my very own hands.
I let these voices conquer me, I stopped fighting them, and I began to let them pave my destiny.
I wrote a note to my loved ones, telling them of the love that I had for them, and telling them how sorry I was. I told them that it was not their fault or my fault, it was that I just could not fight anymore, I had finally lost.
The demon that used to only have some parts of me now had all of me. This demon turned me to black, this demon broke me into tiny pieces, this demon took me and my life away.
There was no way that I could be that happy little girl always smiling again, there was no way that I could turn back to color, there was no way that all of the broken pieces of me could be fixed.
Life as I knew it was gone, there was no more hope for me, there was no more moving on.
The house was empty, not a single person in sight, I knew that it was time, and so I planned out my death. I put the note on my bed as I read the way to slit your wrists correctly, I made sure to know exactly how to do it right.
I got the sharpest knife from my kitchen, turned on the hot shower, took my clothes off, and said a deep prayer.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, I can’t go on anymore, take away my pain, take me home to you, amen.”
I opened my eyes and drew the knife to my wrist, the cold, sharp blade pressed against the skin.
my phone began to ring as soon as the knife poked into my skin, I felt compelled to look who was calling, I felt that something bad had happened.
The screen read “Dad” and I knew that I needed to pick it up. My dad was breathing heavily and in a panic said, “Your sister was in a car accident!”
I threw the knife to the ground, bolted out of the shower in a panic, and called her right away. I thought to myself, “What if she died today? I couldn’t live without her, I wouldn’t know what I would do.”
This made me question what I was about to do to myself, this made me feel guilty and right there I knew that I wouldn’t only be hurting myself, but I would be hurting my family and anyone who loved me.
I wouldn’t only be leaving a scar on myself temporarily, I would be leaving a scar on my family, and that scar would last forever.
I did not think that what I was doing was selfish, but I knew that I loved my family too much to hurt them in this way. I knew that my sister’s accident happened for a reason, and I knew that the reason was so that I would live, and so that I would not take away my life that day.
I now knew that I was meant to be here, I was meant to be alive and God had a better plan for my life than this.
I decided in that very moment that I would fight that demon again and this time I would not let him win. This time I would win.