I laid there in tears with my letter by my side as my entire body began to go numb. The numbing now matched the pain I had felt for months. Except now, it was finally physical and no one could tell me that it wasn’t real. I’m not exactly sure where I went wrong or how I had gotten to the point where taking a multitude of pills was better than sleeping it off again. Maybe it was the fact that every time “I slept it off” I woke up with it still there, the day was new but the pain was old. Or maybe it was the idea of it never ending, having to live with the pain forever. I couldn’t control my thoughts anymore and if I couldn’t understand them then who would? I had accepted that my mind was no longer mine and nobody would ever be able to help. So I took those pills peacefully, sat down to write my letter, and snuggled up in bed ready to finally be at peace. There were a few things I didn’t count on. In the movies, you don’t see the pain. They make it seem fast and peaceful. I laid there curled up because my stomach burned and I couldn’t resist the urge to vomit but my legs were too numb to move. My eyes were so heavy but I couldn’t fall asleep from all the pain. I also didn’t count on the banging on the door, from my AMAZING friend who we will leave unnamed for privacy, or climbing onto my porch to get in through the balcony door. I wouldn’t be here, writing this, if it wasn’t for her. At the moment I was so angry that she stopped me. I was angry that I was at the hospital and that I had to continue living. Now, I am forever grateful. The loneliness I felt that night is, and forever will be, indescribable. Her presence reminded me that I was not alone and the pain on her face reminded me that people care. I underwent intensive care, including both inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation. Putting my feelings out in the open and getting help changed my life drastically. I thought it was impossible to be understood but I was amazed by the amount of people I met in and out the hospital that were going through similar situations. I was ashamed at first because suicide is always perceived as being weak and selfish but it isn’t. At the moment I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, I genuinely thought my family and friends were better off without me but that is NOT true. It never was. Countless amounts of people visited me in the hospital in tears, called me to tell me they cared, and even flew across the country to be with me. People care. I was angry at myself for putting my loved ones through that pain and it took months of hard work but I am better. I left a toxic marriage, I found strength in my weaknesses, I learned things about myself that I never knew, I found hobbies, and most importantly I am happy. I never would have done ANY of that if it wasn’t for my suicide attempt. It no longer defines me. It is a part of who I was and the reason I am who I am. I am not ashamed. Before, I was surviving. Today, I am living. I found light in the struggle.
lightinthestruggle 2 Minutes
Published by lightinthestruggle