” To allow yourself to be vulnerable is one of the most courageous things that you can do.”
After writing this quote down, in the beginning of September, I immediately drafted this post and never looked back at it. I’ve been avoiding this topic for quite some time now… but here it goes. Anxiety, Depression, and Suicide have always been extremely present throughout my life. Depression was more of a storm at sea that came and gone. Anxiety is still present, like the constant blare of a fire alarm when there’s no real fire. Suicide is that taunting figure in the shadow of the ring, waiting for the bell to signal the next round. This isn’t something that came out of the blue, it’s actually been affecting my life for quite some time now. It was just a gradual build-up of situations and emotions that led me to where I am today.
I didn’t have the best childhood growing up. Without going into too much detail: my dad left when I was younger, I was never close with my mom or my sister, I’ve been abused in different ways, and there’s a lot more to my story that I don’t feel quite comfortable sharing with the internet yet.
Growing up in a home that did not feel like a home.
Growing up being constantly told that I was worthless, a waste of life, and a bother.
Growing up being taught that no one will ever love me as much as they say they do.
My first attempt at suicide was my first year in high school. I was so upset with my family situation that I ran downstairs to the kitchen, tears streaming down my face, and picked up the sharpest knife I could find. I held the blade up to my throat.. not even aware of what I was doing. The only thought in my head was, “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
My second attempt at suicide was my third year in high school. My family situation grew to the point where Child Care Services had to become involved. I remember lying during my interview and telling them that everything was perfectly okay. I remember hearing the words from someone dear to me, “You’re the reason why this family is falling a apart. Mental illness is not real.” I remember dumping the pills into my hand, shaking, and crying until the sun rose.
My third attempt at suicide was my first year in university. Something unimaginable happened to me, along with other small factors in life that built-up, and it was at this point in life that I convinced myself that I’d be okay with never seeing the light of day again. I dumped a bottle of Tylenol Extra Strength onto my bed and started to pop the pills, one by one. I remember my best friend crying on the phone with me. I remember my boyfriend and his best friend telling me to stay awake while they sped down to my dorm. I remember my roommate finding me in a daze after consuming a handful of pills. And then I remember waking up the next day.
In the past, I would look at suicide as a way out from all of the pain and misery in my life. There’s so much pain in this world and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t want to feel any pain this world had to offer anymore- so I thought that my best bet would be to remove myself from it.
I was diagnosed with chronic depression and anxiety my third year in high school. At the time, I had no idea what either of the two were. I was thrown into therapy for 2 years before I eventually decided to stop (separate post about therapy tba.) However, thanks to therapy, I was able to grasp a better understanding of what mental illnesses were and sort out my life/feelings in general. But that didn’t stop me from feeling those feelings- it just gave me the mental tools I needed to handle those feelings.
I wasn’t depressed or suicidal 24/7. I would have crappy days but I would also have amazing days. There was a point in my life, during my senior year in highschool, where I thought that I beat my suicidal thoughts. I had so much hope that everything would be okay until my freshmen year of university came around (my 3rd attempt at suicide.) After then, I thought that I’d never be okay again… I thought that this mental illness really won. It confused my friends because I said that I was better than ever and I meant it. I never thought I’d have to deal with it again.
“Jess, you had so much hope. What happened?”
“I thought you were doing better? Why would you try to kill yourself again?”
“You said that you were happy and that you could fight this.”
They weren’t lies.
My problem: I never thought that I could genuinely be happy without something terrible happening. I was afraid to be happy. I was afraid to be vulnerably happy. I have this constant thought in my head that I’ll never be good enough and that no one will ever truly love me… I don’t even want to be here some days.
My best friends have yelled at me before.
“Why are you still here if at the end of the day, you still want to kill yourself?”
“Why do you set goals for yourself and plan out your future if you don’t even see one for yourself?”
“No one will be the same without you.”
A loving family, loving boyfriend/girlfriend, loving friends… it doesn’t matter who or what they have- because the thing is, it’s very hard for a suicidal person to find a reason to stay. It’s not out of selfish motives. It’s not because I don’t care about anyone in my life. I care more than anything. I never asked to be suicidal.
I always tell people that are concerned: at the end of the day, it is my choice. If it happens, it’s not anyone’s fault but mine. I don’t know when the panic attacks will stop, I don’t know when I’ll finally feel comfortable in my own mind and body, and I don’t know when I’ll finally find my serenity. But what I do know is that I’m going to keep trying, I’m going to keep holding on, and I’m going to be courageous through it all. There will be good days and there will be bad days and that’s okay. Life just happens and you’re constantly figuring things out- no matter what age you are.
There’s this nasty stigma surrounding mental illness that doesn’t allow people to talk about it. Because it’s unspoken of, nobody truly understands the severity of it so people who actually suffer with this feel misunderstood.
To the people who suffer with anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders, or other mental illnesses:
I see you. You matter. You are not crazy. You are beautiful in your own unique way. I understand and I’m sorry you have to go through so much pain.
If calling makes you nervous (because I know I’ve never called a hotline number before) then don’t hesitate to comment or direct message me to just vent/talk about it.
Everything happens for a reason. Everything will be okay.
Surviving,
Jessica C.
