“Four years ago I tried to end my life. I couldn’t see a future for myself. I had no purpose. I was all alone.
Four years ago, I didn’t want to live anymore. I was bullied really badly. People just didn’t like me and I’m not sure why because I have always been a nice person. I guess no one wanted to take the time to get to know the real me. All they saw was that I didn’t really ‘fit in’ from the outside.
When I was in middle school my anxiety was so bad I would go to the nurse’s office just to get away from people. I broke the school record by going to the nurse 150 times in one semester. I would go for dumb, little reasons just so I could get away and calm myself down. I wouldn’t even attend lunch because I felt like I was being stared at and talked about, so I went to the bathroom instead.
It never helped that my home life wasn’t ideal. I was away from my parents for a few years because of personal family issues. I suffered so badly, blaming myself for everything – to the point I ended up hospitalized multiple times for suicide ideation. It got to the point that I was hurting the people I lived with more than I was hurting myself and they thought the right thing for me was to move in with my Mom and Dad again, but this time they lived in a different state. So, I had to go through the new girl phase again. As I have said before I struggle with social anxiety and depression. It has been a long road to recovery and it will be something I battle for the rest of my life.
I remember 4 years ago like it was yesterday. I got into an argument with my ‘best friend’ over her stealing my money. What kind of friend steals from you? She was supposed to be my rock, and the last message she sent to me read, ‘You don’t matter anyways, maybe you should just disappear.’
I really took that to heart. I tried and tried to brush it off, but I just could shake it. If my BEST FRIEND thought that about me, everyone probably did. Thoughts were flooding my mind. ‘Maybe she’s right. I have no one now.’
Finally, I had enough of being trapped in my own thoughts. I was so tired of the panic attacks and I said to myself, ‘That’s it, I’m done.’
I remember vaguely going to the bathroom at my grandma’s house, looking at myself in the mirror, disgusted at what I saw. ‘How could anyone love me?’ I started hyperventilating, crying. I had SO MANY emotions clouding my thoughts. I was angry at myself for believing someone cared, I was sad, I was anxious.
I grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen, filled my hand and swallowed. In that moment I did not care about anyone or anything. All I knew is that I wanted this life to be over with.
I laid in my bed crying, praying to God to give me an answer to take all of my pain and hurt away. I begged him, ‘Please just give me a sign.’ But right then, I didn’t feel like there was a God. If there was, why would he let me hurt?
That’s when I got on Facebook. I was looking through my news feed and I saw a picture of my nephew. His cute innocent little smile, then my world came to a complete stop. I started thinking about my family.
How would they feel? My mom already lost one daughter at birth. I was NOT about to cause her to lose another one. I didn’t want to hurt them. I got up, walked to my mom’s room and laid down in her bed beside her. She knew something was wrong, and when she asked, I LOST it. I was UGLY crying. I finally got the words out. ‘I DON’T WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE!’ The look on her face is something I will never, ever forget. She started crying and asked if I needed help.
We went to the emergency room and they were asking me all kinds of questions. Questions I didn’t care to answer. ‘Do you feel like hurting yourself or anyone else?’ What kind of question is that? Obviously I feel like hurting myself. That’s why I am here. Finally they put me in an ambulance and transferred me to Vista, a mental hospital in Gainesville. I met so many extraordinary people there, but of course just like me, they didn’t see how amazing they were. These people made me realize I am not alone and not just the wallflowers suffer from mental illnesses, but the cheerleaders, the pretty girls and the jocks do as well. It’s not just something that affects a certain kind of person, but all kinds of people.
Getting help is the best thing I could have done. I now have two beautiful nephews, an amazing husband and a cute dog. Here I am 4 years later, still alive.
I have found my purpose and I’m still learning day by day. I face challenges head on. Here I am 4 years later, and I’m excited about my future. I fall on my ass more times than I can count, but I get up, dust off and try it again.
4 years later and I am a new person and I am more than happy to be alive. It gets easier every day. I have learned that things do get better, and I am not alone.
I am a fighter.
For anyone out the suffering from depression or battling any mental illness – IT GETS BETTER. I promise. You are NOT alone, and you DO have a purpose. It may feel like your world is falling apart and you will never be happy. I felt that.
It gets better, and I am living proof of that.”
[If you’re thinking about hurting yourself, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit suicidepreventionhotline.org to live chat with someone. Help is out there and you are not alone.]
Read more stories like this:
‘That should do it.’ I grabbed the Xanax I’d talked my friend into giving me, grabbed a beer, swallowed.’: Woman survives suicide attempt overdosing on pills, ‘My husband saved me, those grandbabies. It scares me to think I almost missed all of this’
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