Getting ready to do the Out of the Darkness walk here (we've also done it in San Francisco) I am reflecting on my experiences with suicide. I want to warn anyone who is sensitive to this subject to be warned this post contains stories of suicidal ideation.
When I was 17 I was struggling so much with my self esteem, school work and death of my grandfather that I thought it would be better to be dead. When focusing in on this event in my life I find it hard to decide what exactly caused me to go through with it. Was it the prozac that I was mis-using? Was it the depression? The eating disorder? The grief? Or, most likely, all of the above. There are numerous studies that have shown that certain antidepressants can cause suicide ideation in teens. In my opinion, how that works is that when we are so completely depressed, we may not the have mental capacity and wherewithal to plan or partake in the ending of our own lives. but once the medication kicks in just enough for us to think more clearly, we may use that clarity to focus in on our goal to end it all. but here is a more scientific approach:
It was winter-time in the year 2000 that I tried to kill myself. On that day, we had a snow day from school and I stayed home and felt bummed out about not being able to see my boyfriend and friends at school. I took a shower and felt lonelier as the day continued. I was no angel as a teen. I made life at home hard on my Mom and I by rebelling and being obsessed with parties and boys. That's probably somewhat typical. What wasn't typical is the hurt I had inside of me that had been building since puberty hit and so did my chemical imbalance. Starting in 7th grade, I wrote in my diary about my wishes to be dead and my immense self hatred. This was another abnormality in my life. I was a young, healthy teenage girl involved with sports and had a fun group of friends and social life. but I also hated myself. I was no stranger to these feelings.
but my familiarity with these feelings didn't stop the destructive path I started down on that winter night. When my Mom arrived home from work, there was an argument about me wanting to meet up with my friends and I wasn't allowed to because I was grounded. Again, this is a normal teenage scenario that ended abnormally. It wasn't anybody's fault, especially my mother's, that I wanted to leave forever. But these were just the things the things that happened on that day. The feeling of not wanting to live anymore wasn't new. but I acted on it.
I took so many pills. All the pills in our house it seems. I "hid" a glass of water in our downstairs bathroom and kept bringing in more bottles of pills to swallow. It was exhilarating. Until it wasn't. I suddenly felt scared and invincible at the same time. I rebelled against my mom's wishes and met up with a couple of girls to walk to a friends house. In our adorable small town, a Christmas parade was organizing and girl scouts with jingle bells and kids with heavy coats eating cookies didn't distract me from my situation.
I walked with these girls to a gas station up our street. I didn't tell anyone about the severity of what I done. It wasn't known how serious my situation with the pills were until I passed out in the bathroom of that gas station. The effects were starting and I was on my way to death.
Do you believe in angels? I do. That night, one of the girl's I was with recognized her brother's car in the gas station parking lot and ran to him for help. I am so glad that he took the situation seriously. My being passed out in the bathroom was something that could've looked like a "party girl gone too far" but it was way more serious than that. He forced us into his car and drove to the hospital.
Why did I mention guardian angels? Well after the fact, I learned that her brother normally didn't even stop at the gas station after a night class he was taking. He didn't even need gas. He just wanted a snack but he said honestly he doesn't even know why he stopped for that because there were plenty of things to eat at his house and was perplexed as to why he stopped there that night. I think it was meant to be. I was meant to stay alive.
After a long arduous procedure with a stomach pump, I was sore, bleary eyed and ashamed. I can honestly say I have never tried to take my life again after this event. I was too close to dying. I hurt my family, especially my poor Mom. and worst of all, I hurt myself. My pain didn't go away but at least I knew I wanted to live. I'm stubborn like that now. I won't let depression take my life from me. It may interfere and taunt me but I know I want to live and I want others to live.
I've had close friends die of suicide since then and the acknowledgment is there in my heart. I know their hurt. I know that pain. and I don't blame anyone for wanting to stop the pain. but if you have this pain that you can't live with, I hope you make one phone call before you try to end it all.
When I was 17 I was struggling so much with my self esteem, school work and death of my grandfather that I thought it would be better to be dead. When focusing in on this event in my life I find it hard to decide what exactly caused me to go through with it. Was it the prozac that I was mis-using? Was it the depression? The eating disorder? The grief? Or, most likely, all of the above. There are numerous studies that have shown that certain antidepressants can cause suicide ideation in teens. In my opinion, how that works is that when we are so completely depressed, we may not the have mental capacity and wherewithal to plan or partake in the ending of our own lives. but once the medication kicks in just enough for us to think more clearly, we may use that clarity to focus in on our goal to end it all. but here is a more scientific approach:
Many parents, not to speak of psychiatrists and other physicians, are wary about prescribing antidepressants to teenagers after the FDA issued a “black box” warning, in 2004, that use of SSRI antidepressant medications was linked to an increased risk of suicidal thoughts or behaviors.
The FDA based its warning on a review of records of nearly 2,200 children treated with SSRI medications, finding that 4 percent experienced suicidal thinking or behavior — twice the rate of those taking placebos. There were no completed suicides among the 2,200 children treated.
Three years later a comprehensive review of pediatric trials, funded by the National Institute of Mental Health and conducted between 1988 and 2006, found that the benefits of these medications likely outweigh their risks to children and adolescents with serious depression and anxiety. -Child Mind Institute
It was winter-time in the year 2000 that I tried to kill myself. On that day, we had a snow day from school and I stayed home and felt bummed out about not being able to see my boyfriend and friends at school. I took a shower and felt lonelier as the day continued. I was no angel as a teen. I made life at home hard on my Mom and I by rebelling and being obsessed with parties and boys. That's probably somewhat typical. What wasn't typical is the hurt I had inside of me that had been building since puberty hit and so did my chemical imbalance. Starting in 7th grade, I wrote in my diary about my wishes to be dead and my immense self hatred. This was another abnormality in my life. I was a young, healthy teenage girl involved with sports and had a fun group of friends and social life. but I also hated myself. I was no stranger to these feelings.
but my familiarity with these feelings didn't stop the destructive path I started down on that winter night. When my Mom arrived home from work, there was an argument about me wanting to meet up with my friends and I wasn't allowed to because I was grounded. Again, this is a normal teenage scenario that ended abnormally. It wasn't anybody's fault, especially my mother's, that I wanted to leave forever. But these were just the things the things that happened on that day. The feeling of not wanting to live anymore wasn't new. but I acted on it.
I took so many pills. All the pills in our house it seems. I "hid" a glass of water in our downstairs bathroom and kept bringing in more bottles of pills to swallow. It was exhilarating. Until it wasn't. I suddenly felt scared and invincible at the same time. I rebelled against my mom's wishes and met up with a couple of girls to walk to a friends house. In our adorable small town, a Christmas parade was organizing and girl scouts with jingle bells and kids with heavy coats eating cookies didn't distract me from my situation.
I walked with these girls to a gas station up our street. I didn't tell anyone about the severity of what I done. It wasn't known how serious my situation with the pills were until I passed out in the bathroom of that gas station. The effects were starting and I was on my way to death.
Do you believe in angels? I do. That night, one of the girl's I was with recognized her brother's car in the gas station parking lot and ran to him for help. I am so glad that he took the situation seriously. My being passed out in the bathroom was something that could've looked like a "party girl gone too far" but it was way more serious than that. He forced us into his car and drove to the hospital.
Why did I mention guardian angels? Well after the fact, I learned that her brother normally didn't even stop at the gas station after a night class he was taking. He didn't even need gas. He just wanted a snack but he said honestly he doesn't even know why he stopped for that because there were plenty of things to eat at his house and was perplexed as to why he stopped there that night. I think it was meant to be. I was meant to stay alive.
After a long arduous procedure with a stomach pump, I was sore, bleary eyed and ashamed. I can honestly say I have never tried to take my life again after this event. I was too close to dying. I hurt my family, especially my poor Mom. and worst of all, I hurt myself. My pain didn't go away but at least I knew I wanted to live. I'm stubborn like that now. I won't let depression take my life from me. It may interfere and taunt me but I know I want to live and I want others to live.
I've had close friends die of suicide since then and the acknowledgment is there in my heart. I know their hurt. I know that pain. and I don't blame anyone for wanting to stop the pain. but if you have this pain that you can't live with, I hope you make one phone call before you try to end it all.
Call 1-800-273-8255
Available 24 hours everyday
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