This is a written piece by a very dear friend of mine. She was in an incredibly dark place when she wrote this. She is resiliient. She is the bravest person I know, for not only has she survived, but she put these feelings into words and is allowing me to publish them here.
She + I both want to raise awareness about the terrifying reality of suicidality. It does exist. It’s easy to be oblivious to warning signs because you think “it could never happen to someone in my life”. But the reality is, it probably has or will.
One of the first things I want to say is: I’m not writing this for attention or to make anyone feel sorry for me or to upset anyone. I’m writing this because I’m fed up [with] hiding behind a fake smile. Secondly, if you read this, I love you. This is the scariest thing I have ever done in my life. Most of you won’t understand how scary this is or how I’m feeling no matter what you read here but I’m not asking you to understand it exactly, damn I’d hate for you to understand it perfectly (because that’d mean you’re going through it or have been through it and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone) but I am asking you to understand this isn’t easy, that this isn’t something I can just ‘awake’ from. I’m asking for support. Again if you’re reading this I love you!
‘’ I feel alone here and cold here
Though I don’t want to die
But the only anaesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside
I do not want to be afraid
I do not want to die inside just to breathe in
I’m tired of feeling so numb
Relief exists I find it when I am cut’’
Song: ‘Cut’ by Plumb
Fighting the urge to cut can be one of the hardest things in the world, without a blade slicing into your skin, you feel numb. Finding a way to cope without self harm is extremely hard. Sometimes it’s a desperate feeling you can’t explain, but it’s so strong there’s nothing you can do but give in. Nothing. So you drag the cold unforgiving metal of a blade, scissors or a knife over your skin, or anything that cuts through, feeling the pain of a fresh wound being created seeping through you and somewhere in that pain you feel relief. Somewhere within that relief, the hurt continues…it even deepens. Self harm gives you a reason for the hurt you’re feeling. It’s an escape into another world where you can actually feel, where you can actually cry and let it out but then you’re too afraid to let anyone know what you’ve done so it’s all hidden away again. The fact it has to be hidden hurts even more so you become number then the temptation to do it all again grows and grows. It’s a never ending cycle of contradicting feelings pushing you to your limit. It’s a constant fight against one of the only things you believe will help you through this feeling.
This feeling of being tired; tired of being tired. Tired of life, of breathing, of trying, of crying, of the fake smiles and the fake laughter, of pretending to be ok and tired of people pretending to care. People may care; they actually probably do care however you can’t see that at all, you really just cannot. You can’t understand why anyone would care about someone like yourself. After all you look at yourself and you’re disgusted at everything you see; disgusted at those eyes, that mouth, those spots, that fat on your arms, legs and everywhere else. You’re fed up of hearing your own voice, fed up of your own life. Fed up of you. So of course everybody else is fed up of you too. They have to be.
So you feel completely and utterly alone, like no one in the world understands, even when people say they do, even when you’re closest friends have experienced it. You still feel so alone. Isolated and scared. When you’re suffering from depression or sinking into depression, the world is a gigantic cold suffocating hateful bubble that you can’t break through. The world is big and you are small. There is no escape from this suffocating feeling. You’re drowning in your own sadness, it sounds awful to say that but it’s true. Yet you keep smiling and laughing and saying I’m ok because you don’t want to worry anyone you love. They don’t need to suffer too. You love them so much you keep hanging on by a thread. You love them so much you take all their problems on board too because they are so much more important than your own. They’re more important than you. People ask what’s wrong and you do want to tell them but in the end what is wrong? Sometimes you don’t even know yourself, there’s not always a way to tell someone. So instead of saying ‘no I’m not OK’ for once you continue to smile and pretend each time knowing you’re pushing people away because you’re afraid that them knowing the truth is worse than them not knowing what you’re going through. In fact sometimes you feel like you deserve to be alone through this, like you deserve to be punished for being a bad person. Because to yourself that’s what you are a bad person, a bad friend, a bad sibling, a bad child. You’re the worst person in the world and everyone would be better off without you. You lose people and that really really hurts but you expected it all along. You never expect people to stand by you because you don’t think you are special enough to have someone close to you.
In the end, it gets worse. The crying whenever you’re alone becomes crying all the time. You can break down about anything. Anything and everything can bother you; even something as simple as you can’t choose what to wear or you can’t find your phone. It all gets too much and you start to contemplate taking your own life. You’ve been contemplating it from the start but you start thinking about it for real, you think about the how, the where and the when. You can be lay in bed at night and all night you cry and cry and make yourself feel ill from the amount of crying you do. You tell yourself suicide would be the best option. No one would miss you. But in reality you don’t want to die, you just want to wake up one day and be ok. But you know you won’t because you’ve given up hope. Nothing matters to you anymore, the things you used to love lose their appeal and you start avoiding the people you love. It’s a confusing and traumatic time.
For me it’s the worst thing in the world. People say I’ll be ok, that it’s a phase, I’ll get over it. The truth is maybe it is a phase and eventually I’ll be happy again but for now it feels like there’s no way out of this vicious cycle. In the past two years, since my last case of serious depression, I have had my ups and downs and my really bad days when all I’ve wanted to do is swallow packets full of painkillers and lie there until it killed me. I never have though because I’ve always had some hope within me. Something keeping me holding on. Something to make me smile again. But recently things have gotten really bad. I have always had scars on my arms and my legs from last time and people see them all the time now and I’m not ashamed of them anymore. But what people don’t know is that I have fresher marks on my legs. And that I am ashamed of, to me those fresh marks are a sign of weakness, a sign of me being stupid and terrible. My depression is nowhere near as bad as it was last time however I have never felt more alone than I do right now. Right now I feel cut off from everyone and everything. I know I’d miss so many people if anything were to happen to them. I know I have a great family and some amazing friends but I also feel like they don’t see me as great or amazing. I feel as if everyone sees me as a waste of space, time and effort. I’m useless and worthless and I hate every last thing about myself but there’s no point changing who I am.I don’t believe any of the positive things people have said about me, I don’t believe I’m good enough to get into Uni yet getting into Uni is the only thing I’m aiming for at the moment.
I’ve thought about ending it all lately, how easy that would be and how easy a way that would be to end the pain but I am not suicidal. I would never do it. Never. But I am scared of my mind and what these thoughts could do. I’m petrified. I hate being alone. And that’s what I am, completely alone. I just want this pain to go away…I don’t really care how anymore.
Though I have put the sharp stuff back where they belong and promise to only use them for their correct purposes. I will get through this. Somehow.
I’ve never been good enough nor will I ever be good enough. For anything or anyone. I just wish I could feel like someone would actually miss me if I was to do the worst, but who in the world would miss someone like me?
And now I’m scared of what you’ll think of me. I’m worried I’ll now have lost you.
Hope is possible. My friend survived her suicidal thoughts. So did I. We’re so fortunate to have each other as a support system. If you are struggling with self-destructive thoughts, please seek help. Your life is so worth it.
“I wanted to die” [TRIGGERING] | etched in tin Category: Happiness
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