I was 12. I survived. Many don’t. I was lucky.
So I share my story. I do it to increase awareness and encourage someone else to share theirs. Please feel free to share it.
It was October in Alaska. At that time in my life, there could not have been enough joy to make my depression go away enough to feel that I wasn’t an enormous burden on those around me. So I tried to fix it. The best way I knew how. I tried to kill myself.
I remember the pills. There was a sense of relief followed by fear of dying. Not a fear of death, I had come to terms with that and knew I was making that choice, but the process of dying was potentially painful and that was something I feared. Not enough to stop though, I took each and every tablet. Then I went to bed for the night hopeful they would work while I was asleep and I would have a relatively painless death.
When I woke in the morning I was furious. I was so angry that the pills hadn’t worked. I was very sick, physically and mentally, I needed help. My dad drove me to the hospital where I was admitted for several days. It was a scary time for all of us.
Years later I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which helped to explain a lot about my behavior as a youth and young adult. Now I know to keep a close eye on my thoughts and ask for help whenever they become predominant and start to crowd out others.
I speak out for those who can’t. I share my story in the hope it will help others. Please feel free to share your story as well. You never know who it will help.
If you or someone you know are currently having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255).