How it feels to be a suicide survivor

My innocence was taken from me when I was fifteen. My first love abused me and broke my heart. He tore me to pieces. I expected my next boyfriend, my best friend, to save me, but he didn’t believe the stories. I had been sexually, physically, and emotionally tattered, and the one person I really trusted turned away.

I sunk into a deep depression, losing my worth, losing my sanity. I didn’t see value in myself. I thought of myself as no one, nothing. I thought I was insignificant. I spent days in bed sleeping or keeping my nose in a book. I lived through the novels I read. I pushed my family away, yelling at them and blaming them for what was happening to me. I once kicked a hole in the wall and screamed bloody murder. This was my downfall. I crumbled and fell apart.
I lost who I was. I was no longer the outgoing, sweet, friendly and funny girl I had once been. The girl I used to be withered and sunk to the bottom of the pit. It felt like she was gone. I didn’t see her. All I saw were tears, loneliness, sadness, darkness, and death.

When I was sixteen, I planned my suicide attempt. I told myself I would just be gone and the pain would leave me. I thought no one would miss me anyway. I didn’t feel like there was anything to live for. I saw no value in whom I was as a person and believed the world would have been a better place without me. What did I have to offer the world?

I waited until the middle of the night to go down to the kitchen to grab a knife. I pressed the knife taut to my left wrist and took a deep breath. My heart raced and pumped through my chest. But I sat still. I stared at the knife’s glare for a minute or two. Then in my disgust, I threw it across the tile floor. I hugged my knees and bowed my head as I cried like I never had before. I sat in the bathtub for a while, just crying, breathing, realizing what I had done.

After my suicide attempt, I prayed and prayed so hard to be saved. I wanted to be redeemed. I wanted to look death in the eyes and say, “I’m not worthless.” Although the days to come were rough, having been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, depression, and an anxiety disorder, I felt relieved that my feelings weren’t out of the blue and all in my head. For the past four years, I’ve been medicated on a high dose of Prozac, despite the dangers of its side effects.

I tried to get off of my medications a few different times. I was ashamed of feeling like the drug was my crutch. I thought if I could be off my medication, I would feel normal like everyone else. But that didn’t happen. And slowly I realized that I wasn’t ever going to be “normal.” I always felt different and now I knew why.

Some days I feel out of control. Some days I sit and cry for a long time. Some days I feel great and I’m happier than ever. There are many times when I don’t know if I’ll get through the day without hurting myself.

But I know that I have to fight. It’s not all about me anymore. I know now that my family would miss me. They would fall to pieces. My friends would feel a gaping hole from my passing. My boyfriend would have the space next to him in his bed never filled by me again. I wouldn’t exist anymore, only to be remembered as “that girl who killed herself.”

No, I have to fight because I don’t want anyone to feel as alone as I felt. I don’t want anyone to feel so alienated by a mental disorder like I was. The stigma attached to mental illness needs to be annihilated. It’s time for it to end. I’m here because I can see the real beauty in life through my friends and family. Because of my journey, my biggest goal in life is to inspire other people to stay strong. Being strong doesn’t have to mean never having bad days. Those days happen all the time.

Real strength is fighting back by living and breathing. Sharing stories. Inspiring people. And because of my inner strength and those that I love, I’m still fighting today. Whether you’re a suicide survivor, a cancer survivor, or a survivor of the struggles of everyday life, you can always find true hope and fight.

I Owe a Debt

When you tell someone that you are depressed, most people associate it with this overly dramatic idea that you live in a world constantly covered by dark and brooding storm clouds. If they see you laughing with your friends, they will say, “You can’t be depressed! You were laughing and looked happy!”

What people who have never experienced depression don’t understand is that it’s not that every single day is completely terrible – we don’t walk around with permanent frowns on our faces nor cringe at any glimmer of happiness. There can be days where I laugh and periods of time where things are going fine.

But it’s just this overarching dissatisfaction with life that makes me depressed.

I have been dealing with depression for about three years now. I have gotten to the point where I simply feel flat. I don’t really get the point of life - I think it is very pointless. When hearing those statements, naturally that raises a few red flags. And I bet you started to wonder if I were suicidal? Well you would be correct!

(And I know it is concerning to hear me talk about suicide so nonchalantly. But as I previously mentioned, a side effect of depression is feeling flat and apathetic, so I hope you can try to see where I’m coming from. You don’t have to agree, but just try to see it from my perspective.)

So I’ve stated that I’m suicidal. But let me clarify that. I’m suicidal in the sense that I think life is kind of pointless so I really wouldn’t care if I died tomorrow. Having said that, I would never actually commit the actual act. I want to. But I never would. Why you may ask?

Well honestly I care too much about others to do that. When thinking of the effect that my death would have on my family and friends, I recognize how selfish it would be to put them through that pain. I realize that I have control over whether or not they experience pain and sorrow on my behalf, so why would I choose for them to suffer.

But the biggest thing that keeps me fighting is a quote from my favorite book, The Fault In Our Stars, which states, “I owed a debt to everybody who didn’t get to be a person anymore.” There are people in this world who die from cancer or illnesses that can’t be cured. There are people who die fighting for our country and people who die at the hands of a drunk driver. When I think about taking my own life, I think that I have a duty to the people who wanted to live but couldn’t live anymore. They didn’t have a say in the matter. But I do. And I owe it to them to keep battling.

Admitting is the First Step

I used to be a happy guy. I was full of energy and enthusiasm. I loved to crack jokes and meet new people and be on the center stage. Depression changed me. I am just not the same person I used to be two years ago. I am not depressed anymore. However, I now realize the warning signs for depression not just for myself but also for other people. I understand the hopelessness and despair when you are depressed. I also understand the struggles people have in their attempt to reach out. If there is anyone out there that feels like nobody understands your situation and cannot help you, you might be surprised by the number of people that understand EXACTLY what you are going through.

For me, depression came with stress. Stress from school, work, friends, financial situations, health, and etc. Next thing I know, I was speaking less and became hostile towards people. If I was lively before, I started to refrain from interactions with people in general, even my best friends. When people reached out to see what was going on, I just gave them an excuse like “I’m just tired.” As the weeks went on, I became more and more reclusive. I started to realize that I wasn’t just stressed out because of my surroundings. I was FREAKING depressed.

I’m actually fortunate that one of my friends actually intervened and put back some sense into my head. He was the one that told me that I was depressed and that it is in my interest to share what was causing it. I told him the truth, and that alone helped me a lot. Instead of beating myself in my mind constantly, sharing it helped me realize that I am not alone in this fight. I realized that my friend also went through a similar phase and shared how he overcame depression. He told me about the resources available just within TCU and there are many more available in the community. He encouraged me to share my situation with my family and friends knowing that they will help me get through my situation. And I did. It didn’t solve the problem immediately. But with time and effort, I was able to get out of my depression.

I honestly didn’t want to admit it. I always thought I had a stress-free mentality. I thought depression was only for those who were weak mentally (I don’t even know what this means anymore). I was always able to see the positives in situations. During my depression, I simply could not. I held back from letting my friends know about my depression for a very long time because 1) I didn’t want to admit that I was depressed 2) I didn’t think that anybody would understand my situation and 3) I didn’t want to burden my friends with my depression. Looking back, I was pretty dumb.

People cannot understand you if you choose not to share. You may feel like you can’t share your story because nobody will understand. But I challenge you to take the first step and just share. One person may not be enough to overcome your situation. And that is why you need to utilize all of the resources that are available to you, and there might be more than you think. TCU has great resources, this blog and others that are similar are great resources, and even your friends that you think are inexperienced might be able to help you in a more profound way than you realize (my friend mentioned is two years younger than I am). There are many people in your life that are willing to help you. You just need to realize that. It took me a while, but I hope you don’t make the same mistake.