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One Failed Attempt |
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I have known hopelessness. I have known despair. I know what it's like to feel dead inside. I have known what it's like to want to die. Read my words, my story, and let me share what has happened to get me where I am today. I tried to take care of that hopelessness and despair all on my own. I tried to escape but with one failed attempt....I learned that there is a future.
I was like any normal kid going through the trials and frustrations of being a teenager in this world. Trying to find myself was not an easy task and I struggled incredibly much with that.
When I entered high school I didn’t have many friends. In fact, I had chosen to attend that high school because there wasn’t anyone else from my elementary school except for me. I was a shy and quiet person. I was kind to those around me, but struggled to make friendships and meaningful ones at that. I eventually did make several friends, but very few who would impact my life and be a support to me. I found that most of them were superficial and only cared about what stuff they had or what movies or music they listened to.
I struggled to smile, to laugh, and to open up to people. I kept very much to myself. This process started in 9th grade. I believe that because I was so shy, that it contributed to my struggles with self-esteem and self-worth. I had started down the path of believing that I was worthless, without hope, and definitely had no future.
“Why would people talk to me? Why would they bother to care how I was feeling or what I was thinking?”
Those were questions that ran through my head day after day after day.
By the time I had reached 12th grade, I had convinced myself that I was unlovable, worthless, and invisible. “Know one will notice if I’m gone....I’ve got nothing to live for....I’m invisible to everyone.....” These were all lies and I whole heartedly believed every single one of them.
I was a professional mask-wearer by this time. I wanted everyone to believe that I was this kind, sweet, innocent, loving girl who could be friends with nearly anyone. I was a good student and I was friends with my teachers. I was there for my friends if they needed me. I helped out at youth group and at home.
Not one person in my life knew of my inner pain and that I had died on the inside. No one knew that I wanted to die to end that pain. No one knew of the inner torment with which I lived on a daily basis.
My heart longed for loving and understanding. It longed for someone to notice me for more than the homework assignment I had completed, or the incomplete household chore. I wanted someone to be there for me. I wanted someone to really ask me how I was doing. I wanted someone to say “you know what? It’s going to be okay. You’re going to make it.” I wanted someone to tell me that I was special and unique. I wanted someone to tell me that they loved me for who I was.
No one knew that I had finally made a decision to end my misery.
I had had enough of this life. I was sad all the time. I hardly smiled and if I did, it was usually faked. If I laughed, there was no life to it.
The day came where I had decided to make my move. I took a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet at home and put them in my backpack. I brought them to school with me. I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d follow through on my decision but having them there at a moment’s access was good enough for me. I was a little happier that day. Things didn’t feel so weighted on my shoulders because I had finally made a decision.
That afternoon, while all was quiet, I left my class and headed to the girls washroom. There, standing and hiding in the bathroom stall, is where I finally took out that bottle. I started to take them one by one but it was getting harder to keep swallowing, so I began to swallow 4 or 5 at a time until that bottle was empty.
Then I waited.
I wasn’t sure what would happen.
When I started to feel sick, I decided to head home. I was within a 10 minute walking distance from the school so off I went.
However, by this time, I was scared.
I was second guessing my choice of swallowing the contents of that now empty bottle. My head felt funny, my stomach was churning, and I struggled to walk in a straight line.
I got home and went straight to my room. I stayed there until my fear of the unknown consumed me. I was feeling more and more sick. I took the empty pill bottle out of my backpack, walked out of my room, and found my mom. All I had to do was to hold up that empty bottle.
She brought me directly to the emergency room. I was vomiting by now because my body was trying to expel what I had put into it. The doctors put me in a bed and on a heart monitor. They didn’t have to pump my stomach because I already had been naturally expelling much of the drug.
While I sat there in my drafty hospital gown and attached to that heart monitor, I had time to think about what I had done. I was scared of what was going to happen now. I was scared of who was going to know about this and would think less of me.
Most of all though, I was scared of facing myself.
My mom, dad, youth pastor, and my youth pastor’s wife were all by my bed. They cared alot about me. I was just too blind to see it. I just wanted out. I wanted to be free of the pain I held within my heart. I wanted to show that I was dead inside.
The doctor told my parents and me that I was lucky to be alive after ingesting those drugs.
After my suicide attempt, it had seemed that my outlook on life was starting to change a little bit. There were 2 things happening to me. First, I was overcome with the guilt of what I had just tried to do. I was wishing more and more that I had not tried anything. Dealing with the aftermath of my actions was almost worse than what I had previously been experiencing. Second, I was starting to open up just a little more. I was smiling and laughing a little more. I knew that there were people who really cared about me and wanted what was best for me. God was working in my heart without me even realizing it. He was softening me and calling me to Him.
I found a freedom within to be myself. There was freedom in allowing others to see me for who I was. There was freedom in not holding in all of my emotions and feelings anymore. There was freedom in actually having people who loved me know where I was at.
If I could repeat those years I spent in high school, there would be so much I would change. I would change the lies I believed about myself. I would change how much I expressed myself to those who cared for me. I would have told them how I was feeling and what made me feel that way.
Now, it’s 10 years later.
A verse I have clung to over the years is Jeremiah 29:11.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”
I have been learning, although so painfully slow at times, that I am living in that future now. God has given me a husband. God has blessed me with two absolutely beautiful and wonderful children. I wouldn’t be a wife or a mother had I succeeded in ending my life that day.
If someone had told me back then that I had a future and had reason to have hope, I would have denied it. But now...
Now I see that God is real, He is there, and He has my best interests at heart.
Life has not been easy. It never will be. That’s the cost of being made in human form.
Life however, is worth living. It’s worth it to see who can bring a smile to my day. It’s worth it to have my daughter throw her arms around my neck after she hasn’t seen me for a few days. It’s worth it to hold my son after he’s bumped his head on something.
Life is worth it because I have been given a second chance to love others.
I want to say to those of you who have just read my words.....
I love you. I know you don’t know me, but I really love you. You’re going to make it.
You have a hope. You have a future. Your future is there. Believe it. I am living in my future. You can do the same.
Live your future.
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