We started writing a journal for school. One night during one of my panic attacks, which came from severe sleep deprivation and stress, I sat down to write and watch myself. That section of the journal brought me to tears when I re-read it. Next week I am going to read it in front of my class even if it makes me cry again.
Before I share the text from the journal I want to talk about a few things. The past few weeks I have wanted to write about suicide. Partly because someone killed themselves, partly because the lack of sleep impaired my impulse control and almost cost my life. The problem is, we are not allowed to talk about suicide, so we never do. If we do not talk about it, we can not learn to recognize underlying issues, nor help prevent it. This is why I am writing this tonight.
I do not wish anyone to take pity on me, it is not something I want nor need. This is educational. Let me give you the facts.
I do not want to die. My desire to end it all was not about me wanting to die. It was about wanting to feel at peace.
I did not intend to kill myself, nor did I think about doing it anytime during the days unless I ended up in one of these sleep deprivation and stress induced panic attacks. While in those it felt like the only possible solution.
I do not ever plan to kill myself. There has been points in my life when I have been suicidal, but they have been few and far between. Even if I was close to hurting myself recently I do not identify it as actually being suicidal. If it would have come to that it would not have been premeditated and no notes would have been left. It was only feelings of impulse and a gantic need to just stop the pain.
I love; I love my family and I’m reconnecting with them. I love my boyfriend, in ways I can hardly put into words most of the time. Not only that, they love me. And that is not something I would intentionally want to leave behind.
Impulse is the entity I fear the most. While in my heart I know I will never allow myself to kill myself. Over the years of depression, more than 15, I have come to build a safety net, even when I was the most alone. I know that there are two numbers that I can call if I need to. One would be the equivalent of 911 and the other is the number to the Emergency Psych Ward, to have myself committed.
Recently someone close to someone I love killed themself, the similarities between them and me scared me. It was after that that the impulse control was being weakened due to the sleep deprivation and stress. Suicide as a solution to all the problems life kept throwing my way felt viable, but only in panic mode. I now understand why one suicide can trigger more, because I was there looking over the edge of life being compelled to take that last step.
The words could keep flowing down this page, and more and more things would come to mind as I am writing. You have experienced this yourselves, when bits and pieces of information and what people say just come together in some kind of synergy, like two cogs fitting into each other. We are on the same page. That is what has been happening, and I have chosen to not be quite about almost opting out, because I want to be proactive against suicide. Suicide, the 3rd leading cause to death in young people. Taste those words. Taste those horrible words. This is why I chose to share my story.
In my journal I wrote
Blinded, blinded in the rage, fear, imminent death she was rocking back and forth as she was sitting on the bed.
The bed with the dotted sheets, pillows scattered all over.
She was rocking back and forth wrapped in her duvet.
She couldn’t breath, physically she was but she had to control each breath to get as much air into her lungs as she could, slowing down.
Her insides felt like they were ripping apart from the pain in her chest.
Slowly, rocking back and forth she started to become convinced that there was ever only one way to feel better.
Falling asleep to never dream again, falling asleep to never wake again.
The voices in her head telling her that everything could be okay, if she just take that last step.
The voices had yet not told her exactly what to do.
They were only trying to sooth her by offering a way out, the option to end it all.
In past weeks and months she had seen people getting ripped apart when others near them had chosen to opt out.
She didn’t want to put anyone she loved through that.
She didn’t want to put anyone who loved her through that.
Winning the fight against the voices, she stopped rocking back and forth.
While I wrote that, I did exactly what any therapist would recommend you to do: View the situation from the outside and help yourself solve it.
After it happened, came the biggest hurdle, admitting to myself and people around me that it had happened. One person at the time. Therapist, boyfriend, Mom, the world. The first days were even worse, because of what had happened I did not trust myself, but slowly I got through it. I even looked up that emergency number, but chose another call instead. “I do not want to die, that’s why I’m talking to you because these impulsive feelings are scaring me.”
I will leave you with this; (video)
Please do not kill yourself.
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