Suicide.
Eight years – I battled depression and suicidal thoughts from 14 until 22. I’m no longer ashamed to show these emotional scars. I have every reason to relish in my triumph. After all, I may not have been here to share this story.
Why suicidal thoughts/cries for help should be taken seriously, and not sneered upon
I’ve had 3 suicide attempts, at 15, 20 and 22.
At 15, teenage angst had its way with me. I wasn’t mature enough to cope with all that life had dealt me at that age. I wrote my best-friend a letter explaining my obsession with dark and morbid poetry. I ended the letter with a note I wanted her to read to my mom because I wouldn’t be around to read it to her myself. After lunch, the guidance counselors came to my math class and told me to collect my belongings. I was out of school for a week for “mental health” reasons. During that time, my dad told me I was silly and needed to snap out of it. But, he didn’t understand that I had no idea what “it” was. My dad, much like a lot of Americans think suicide and suicidal thoughts are for cowards and crazy people. I am neither crazy, nor a coward. RaeChele Scales saved my life that day.
Flash-forward to 20, my Grand-dad was terminally ill, he was also my favorite person in the world. I didn’t know who I wanted to be, and I still had no idea what “it” was that kept eating away at my happiness. I changed my major and felt like I was so far behind all of my “successful” college friends. For those reasons, and many others, I didn’t see it for myself. That day, I ran bath water, hoping I’d relieve myself of all the pain. As I sat on the side of the bathtub contemplating my life, one of my best-friends from college sent me a BBM about how amazing he thought I was, and how much of an inspiration I have been to him. I called him in tears, because at that moment, he had no idea what I was contemplating. Nnamdi Anozie saved my life that day.
At 22, I was heart-broken, depressed, a 5th year in college, working two internships and living back at home. Nothing made sense back then, and everything hurt. For weeks, I thought about taking my life. I even told one of my friends I was considering suicide and she said, “oh, you’re probably just stressed. Talk to your mom, or something.” The next morning, I walked to the bathroom and drank bleach. I choked, then my body doubled over. Simultaneously, my mother, who was usually at work during this time, came up the stairs and my friend Lauren was calling my cell phone. The timing could not have been more perfect. That day I had to see a doctor and a life couch, who I saw several times after, until I was tired of digging up years of turmoil. That day, God saved my life (again).
You can save someone’s life by simply acknowledging their existence, appreciating their struggles, listening when they say the pain is just too much. For some, you may have read some of the things that pushed me to a dark place, and thought, “that isn’t serious enough to take your own life over.” And to those people, I say, what is bearable to someone else, may not be bearable to you.
This is simply my truth.
As a promise to my mother, I will have a follow-up post telling you all how I broke through the darkness.
9 years later and this still pulls at my heartstrings. I’m a survivor!
