Its been 12 years since I survived my suicide attempt.

I Wish I had a better photo of our tattoos together but this is the matching tattoo I had with my mom.


And This is a piece out of my morning journal.

suicidepreventionandawareness

“”Woke up missing you a bunch today… and i realized its the 12th anniversary of my attempted suicide when I was 16 that nearly took my life… if it wasn’t for you, I never would have made it through and recovered and continued on to live my life. We were inseparable for a time afterwards. I slept in your bedroom just so I didn’t have to be alone in my room with my thoughts, I quit school and finished the year online and went to work with you every few days to use the wifi to do my school work, you took me to get my first tattoo… matching ones on our wrists that say “strength” to remind me to always be strong and that I came from strong roots. We went and got our noses pierced just to have something fun to do. We went thrifting for the first time ever and I fell in love! We talked… and I mean REALLY REALLY talked about everything for what seemed like the first time… because im the months following my suicide attempt your eyes were finally open… you could finally see me… and you were the first person I felt in my 16 years of life that finally did really see me… you didn’t shame me, instead you tried your best to understand. Yes, you were angry with me because you couldn’t understand how I could do that to you guys but you were just thankful I was alive. And eventhough I struggled with depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts for years and years afterwards… I was glad I survived too.””

They say a very large like almost 100% percent of the people who have jumped from the golden gate Bridge and survived say that they INSTANTLY regretted their decision to jump the moment their feet left the bridge…

This doesn’t mean they didn’t want to die… it means they still wanted the chance to live a happy life. Let me explain…

Now, ive spoken about this before but ive never told the whole story or even part of it in this much detail publicly so im warning you now, this is honest, raw and kind of graphic.

I’ll never forget the moment I realized I’d fucked up… I was laying in my parents bathroom floor dry heaving, trying desperately to make myself throw up the 250+ pills id swallowed earlier that evening. And as my head hit the cold floor i KNEW if i didnt get help right that second i, without a doubt, was going to lay there and die… and if it wasn’t for my little sister… I would have… but ill explain that in just a sec.

Mind you, I didn’t do this frantically or rashly or simply because I was teenager seeking attention. I was completely calm. I did this because I WANTED to die. I wanted to die because i was a mentally ill child growing up in a time when mental illness was not talked about nearly as much as it is now,, it wasn’t as accepted, it was stigmatized, it was looked over and had labels like “shy, backward, and qwerky” slapped on it by unknowing parents and peers and never medically diagnosed therefore there were kids like me suffering with anxiety and depression and a laundry list of other issues that at the time, doctors wouldn’t put on kids because “they’ll grow out of it”… like dude… ADD and ADHD were literally JUST starting to get talked about like an actual treatable issue and not just a case of “bad kid” whenever I was In like Jr High …
So when I tell you that i wanted to die i want you to understand that i mean it and what led me to feel that way… at the time I was suffering from undiagnosed, untreated manic depression and severe generalized anxiety disorder with multiple specific phobias and also a lovely dash of a schitzo-affective personality disorder on top of that. I was mentally ill and unstable and HAD NO FUCKING idea.. I thought thats just how I was, that I was just different and that there was just something wrong with me as a person and I didn’t fit or belong in this world. I didnt feel comfortable anywhere I was no matter what I was doing who I was talking to or who surrounded me. I couldnt even feel comfortable alone because of the constant internal voices picking apart every little thing that happened that day in my head. I was miserable. I was an INFJ living in a world where introverts were not yet accepted and the extroverts had to be perfect otherwise you were considered to be just annoying. I was so uncomfortable… I felt so much like I didn’t belong anywhere… I felt so fucking alone. And I was so sad and I didn’t understand why. All I knew was that my heart hurt and I wanted it to just stop. I was so scared of everything all the time and I just wanted to not be afraid anymore. Its not that I didn’t want to live a happy life… its just that I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried and nothing I did could fix it because I had a chemical embalance in my brain that no amount of effort and good intentions could correct. But I didnt know that… i just knew that I couldn’t stand to feel the way I felt anymore and that I was a burden to everyone around me and that the whole world would just be better off of I wasn’t in it. Because I just didnt belong… so… I decided I was going to take my own life.

I was calm, I didn’t write any notes, I didn’t want my parents to know what happened to me. I wanted them to think it just happened in my sleep because I didn’t want to hurt them more than I already was. I didnt want them to find me cut and bloody, or hanging from something or with my head blown off… I knew that would be horrifying for them… I was also a smart kid, I knew narcotics would show up on a tox screen but most otc pills wouldn’t. And had read that a certain cocktail of otc meds would cause you to die of cardiac arrest So. I locked myself in the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and popped that specific cocktail (not saying what exactly because i dont want anyone out there who may be suicidal to see this and get the info from me and end up dead) and then… just incase that didn’t work, for whatever reason, because I wanted to MAKE SURE it actually worked… I started on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, read the label, seen the “do not take more than x amount in 24 hour period dosage” and then I doubled it… layed the pills on my lap spaced out on my thighs and started chewing them one at a time. Washing them down with chocolate milk to help with the taste. When it was all said and done id ingested right around 250pills of your garden variety medicine cabinet shit… and I felt… normal. Completely normal. Didnt think about the fact that they all still needed to be digested and id just ate a huge bowl of Ramen noodles when id gotten home from school so it was going to take time to take affect… I thought merely chewing up x amount of pills would do the trick. So about an hr or 2 later when I still felt nothing I was like fuck it its probably not going to work and so I cried and then went to sleep downstairs with my sister because it was winter and cold and my room was an icebox. Her and I pulled our bed into the laundry room that night because it was closer to the fire place and we went to sleep . Me a little earlier than usual, but otherwise just like normal because I was convinced the pills didn’t work and I was just gonna keep living life and feeling the way I felt forever and thats just the way it was…

FFW to about midnight-1am..

I wake up because i had the urge to vomit so I crawled to the bathroom which was right next to the laundry room where my sister and I were sleeping.. I couldnt see because I had tunnel vision so bad from my blood pressure being so low and I couldn’t hear due to the ringing in my ears, and I couldnt stand because my equilibrium was completely off and I had no balance. Crawling hurt because well… honestly my skin felt like it was on fire, im not sure why. My body was shutting down so there was just a whole lot of shit I was unable to do properly. I couldnt even hardly talk. But inspite of the pain and panic… I could think perfectly clear. And I just kept thinking “throw it up, just throw it all up” so I tried desperately but I just couldnt manage to make it happen eventhough I was so nautious the room was spinning. As my head hit the cold bathroom floor in defeat I opened my eyes and saw through the tunnel… my little sister laying there in bed sleeping. And I realized if I laid there and died, the first thing she would see when she opened her eyes was me laying there in the bathroom floor dead. And I couldnt handle that thought. I couldnt do that to her. So I tell her now all the time that she saved my life, because she really did. And in that moment I instantly regretted my decision of committing suicide.

The moment when I knew without a doubt I was going to die if I didnt get help… and even if I got help I still might not survive, I regretted it. I regretted it because eventhough I STILL wanted the pain and hurt to go away, eventhough I just didnt want to be a burden anymore and eventhough I felt like it was my only choice… I realized in that moment the real finality in death… and the truth is yeah… dying will take away all that pain and misery sure… BUT its also takes away any chance you have at having a happy life. As long as you are still alive, you still have a chance. And that chance is every bit worth fighting for.

So, I fought… I took every last bit of strength I had in my body, I crawled to the kitchen, knocked the phone off the table, i couldnt see well enough to dial the numbers so i grabbed it and threw it at my mom and dads bedroom door and woke them up, I told my mom “im so sorry, but please you need to call the ambulance right now or I am going to die.” She frantically starts toward me (still laying in the kitchen floor) and says ” are you sick?? whats wrong, im sure you aren’t going to die” and I said “no mom please no, im so so sorry but I messed up, I tried to kill myself, I thought it didn’t work but it did and now im scared and im sorry and I just need your help” That was the last coherent sentence I remember speaking to her or anyone before waking up and coming to my senses in the ICU at children’s hospital on new years day 2009, 3 days later.

The rest was just a blur, I remember some things here and there but not much. I remember the number 27.. because my doctor asked me my favorite number which is 2 and he said his was 7 so put that together and we got 27 and he told me to remember that number because everytime they come in to wake me up and check my vitals and do an awareness check on me they were going to ask me for my special number and it was 27 and i must not forget it. They had to do this every 2 hours because if I got into too deep of a sleep my heart rate and blood pressure would drop so low it was nearly fatal. They also had to take blood to check the toxin levels in my blood to be sure they were going down because my kidneys weren’t working properly and I hadn’t peed yet and refused to let them cath me because adeana had put one in and done it wrong because I started getting sick in the middle of the procedure and it tore up my urethra so bad I still to this day have issues with it… and after they took it out when I got the children’s emergency department I refused to let them put one back in and I remember my doctor threatening me.. jokingly but still in a serious manner that if I didnt pee in the next 12 hours they were going to have to cath me… so I remember finally telling my mom okay I gotta pee, but I couldnt go in the bed pan because laying down peeing just felt un natural and I couldnt do it so mom made everyone leave the room, she shut the blinds and she helped me out of bed (I was still so weak and attached to a gazillion wires and ivs) and she got me where I was stable enough to stand holding onto something and she held the bed pan between my legs for me so I could pee standing up and let gravity do the work. I remember this so vividly because in that moment… inspite of how we got there, we were laughing our asses off because it was just so awkward what else you gonna do? But that is love… and that is a mom for ya. She didn’t care about what I did, all she cared about was that I was alive. After she got me back in bed I remember telling her how sorry I was… and she told me to stop apologizing and she told me that it was her who owed me an apology because I felt that killing myself was my only option instead of being able to come to her for help. After that the bond between my mother and I became something so fierce that not even her death can break because I still talk to her every single day….

The whole time I was in and out of it before I finally came back to reality enough to be able to be moved from the icu to a regular room for continued monitoring untill I was able to fall asleep and but a deep sleep without my heart and blood pressure going so crazy so I could be released to go to treatment or home… all I kept thinking to myself every single time I woke up was oh my gosh, thank fucking goodness im awake, I thought I’d died. I remember seeing my mom and sister and dad and just being so thankful everytime I opened my eyes that they were there and I was still alive and everytime i started to fall back asleep mom would kiss me on the forehead and tell me shed see me when I woke up and then id drift off again… once I woke up and it was night time and dad and sis had gone home but mom was there with me asleep right next to me in my hospital bed with her hand on my chest making sure I was still breathing, just like she did when I was a baby and came home from the NICU…

Mom said “being there with me again in the ICU brought back so many memories of when I was born and how hard I fought then to stay alive.” She said she “couldn’t believe how strong I was then, and how strong I still was now… ” which I didnt understand at the time because id just tried to kill myself, I didn’t feel strong “mom what are you talking about” id say and she replied “you are strong, you got help and you are still here and thats what matters… even strong people fall short sometimes but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have that strength inside.”

And THAT is why we got these matching tattoos whenever I got out of the hospital. She wanted me to put it somewhere id see it all the time and know not only that I was strong, but that I also always had someone out there I could talk to… her.

So… in her memory and also for the 12 year anniversary of the day #isurvived my #SuicideAttempt I am sharing, in detail my story. In hopes that you take away from this that you will regret it, your life matters. And death is never the answer. The only thing dying does, is take away your chance at living. And I mean really living. If you are suffering please, reach out. YOU MATTER and YOU ARE LOVED. And nobody is too broken to heal 🥰 sometimes you just need some treatment and therapy and good ole tlc. And ITS OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP.

suicideprevention #mentalhealthmatters #endthestigma

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