Many who have lost someone to suicide or know someone who is suicidal wonder what goes on within the person’s mind. What was he or she thinking? Why didn’t he or she ask for help? Why would anybody want to take his or her own life? The questions are endless. I can’t answer them all for you, but in this post I am going to digress back into my frame of thinking when I was at the point I just wanted to end it all. This may answer some of your questions and it may be hard to read, but it is important.
I’m going back to when I was in college. I was living with my grandparents, a friend was abusing me, and my cousin was killed in a car accident just before I graduated from high school. I had hit rock bottom of my depression.
I can’t take it anymore. I feel so awful. Why do I have to go on like this? Oh God, I hurt so badly. I just want to be happy. I can’t sleep. I just want to sleep. I can’t breathe, I can’t keep food down, and I just want these feelings in me to stop.
GOD, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? WHY DO I FEEL SO MUCH PAIN? PLEASE STOP THIS. JUST LET ME DIE. PLEASE LET ME DIE. DO YOU HEAR ME, GOD? DO YOU EVEN EXIST? I HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME SUFFER.
I fall to my knees while tears stream from my eyes. My screams of agony are silent. I hold a bottle of pills in my hand.
My life is worthless. I am no good. I have failed my parents and my grandparents. I just wanted someone to care, but I’m not sure my friend really cares. She has ruined me and I let her. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told her everything in my letters, I shouldn’t have let her do those things and if I was better she would have been nicer.
I’m all alone. I can’t tell my parents. They wouldn’t understand. I don’t even understand what is happening to me. If I tell them I would only hurt them. I can’t tell Grandma and Grandpa. They love having me here. If they knew how I feel it would hurt them. I’m destroying their lives by being alive. They will all be better off and happier if I was gone.
I just have to end it now. How will I do it? I could swallow this bottle of pills; I could drive my car in front of a semi or cut my wrist.
I looked around my room for something sharp. All I could find was a razor blade. I held the razor blade and bottle of pills in my hand. Tears poured from my eyes. My body shook and I curled up in a ball.
I just want to be free. I want to be happy. I want my insides to stop hurting. Oh, God, do I hurt inside. I can’t stop my damn thoughts. They go on and on. It feels like my heart is going to explode. There is no way out. I can’t make these feelings and thoughts stop. I can’t live like this anymore. I tried everything. I cut myself, I tried a sleeping pill, and I tried to be happy. It doesn’t work. Nothing works. I have to die and be with my cousin.
WHY GOD, DID YOU TAKE MY COUSIN AND LET ME LIVE? IF YOU WON’T TAKE ME, THEN I’LL END MY LIFE MYSELF.
I grabbed a glass of water from my bed stand. I pour a handful of pills out.
My family will not be burdened by me anymore. I won’t hurt them by my miserable existence. I have to leave them a note. I have to let them know I will be better off.
I grabbed a nearby pen and notebook and I write.
Dear Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa,
I’m sorry for being a big mistake and destroying your lives. Now you won’t have to worry about me anymore. I love you all, but I had to go. I had to end the pain. Write on my grave “Let her be free.” I’ll see you some day in heaven.
Okay, I’ll just swallow the pills and I’ll be happy again. I’ll see my cousin. Soon this pain will be all over and my family won’t ever have to worry about me again. No one will hurt me again. I won’t be alone anymore. These horrible feelings in me will end.
I took the handful of pills that night. I was groggy and dizzy, but somehow I safely drove to a night class at college and home. Even though I wanted to die and I thought it was the only answer, God wanted me to live more. He kept me alive to tell you my story, to watch my nieces and nephews grow up, to marry my soulmate, to write my memoir, to write this blog, to work with customers for 23 and a half years.
If I had died I would have never been published in newspapers, magazines and in Alexander Kovarovic’s book, Change Your Life. If I had succeeded at taking my life, I would have never been able to share my story in an interview on television and I wouldn’t be receiving an award on April 12 for my work with the National Youth Internet Safety and Cyberbullying Taskforce.
When I was suicidal I couldn’t see my future. I couldn’t see beyond my sadness and anguish. I thought my family would have been happier without me, when actually they would have been crushed. If I succeeded, my family would have never completely gotten over my death. They would have been constantly reminded of their loss and left with unanswered questions, questions that they would have never gotten answers for.
Depression seems hopeless, but it’s not. There is life beyond the darkness. Your existence is important to your family and friends. They don’t care how much pain you cause them; they don’t care what they have to do to help you; all they care about is how much you mean to them and how much they love you. Your death would only cause them a heart ache that could never be completely healed. Before you take your life, think of what you are giving up. You are throwing away a future, a chance for recovery, love of family and friends, a chance to have a family, a chance to find your true love, and so much more. If you are thinking about your suicide, then talk to someone, anyone you trust, and let them help you find help.
If you lost someone to suicide, your heart may never fully heal and all your questions may never be completely answered, but maybe this post will give you an idea what he or she was thinking. I hope it gives you some comfort and some understanding.
Because I never succeeded at taking my life, I have lived a wonderful life. It hasn’t always been easy, but I have learned, I have grown, I have fought, I have created memories, and I live in the light of recovery ready to see where else my life will take me.