What lead me to finally stop trying to kill myself and say "Eh, fuck it".
This is not going to end with an "Aha!" moment where I tell you about how I discovered some brilliant, deep meaning behind life and developed a zest for it...
This blog contains some graphic accounts of suicide attempts.
This is more of how I came to finally say "Eh, fuck it" to life.
The first time I tried to kill myself I was only eleven or twelve. I took an entire bottle of "niacin" which made me turn very white, get dizzy , and pass out and then when I came to I had a pins and needle feeling all over my body and was feverish but it didn't kill me. I didn't really know what I was doing, I just knew that it might kill me and that was good enough. My mom sat me down after I started to feel physically better and asked if I wanted help, someone to talk to, and I broke down sobbing saying "Yes, yes please I really need to talk to someone". She got up, screamed that I wasn't getting out of school, walked our of my room and slammed the door. I was planning to tell the person about the sexual abuse I had been enduring since I was about five.
In the years to come there were many more attempts of ending my life.
Many times these attempts were disguised as sheer recklessness. Somewhere in between committing to life and wanting to die, leaning toward the death side. I would eat handfuls of xani-bars and follow it up with copious amounts of vodka and then go to sleep thinking "I might not wake up and that's okay." but I always woke. Though one time I did come really close to not waking up. I had eaten over a box on benadryl. Not trying to die but just for "fun". I only wanted to take 10, my usual dose to have a trip but my friend at the time had taken 30 something and kept non-stop nagging me to take more, more, more. So, I did mostly to shut her up. But even as I was eating 30 something benadryl after having been harshly warned never to go over 12 by the friend that introduced me to the drug I still wasn't scared of death. I knew I might die and I didn't really care because I didn't like being alive. The last thing I remember is saying "my heart is beating really fast". The rest of the night I had to find out second-hand. I started seizuring and turned blue, I was not breathing and I was close to death. After a fight about whether or not to call the police out of fear of getting in trouble the police were called and I was rushed to a hospital via an ambulance.
I wasn't relieved or happy that I was saved. There was a part of me thinking "Wow, that would have been a really peaceful way to die." and ever since then I have had to fight frequent urges to eat 2 boxes of benadryl and let myself fade out. When I heard a kid killed themselves using the seed of a "suicide" tree that made their heart stop I immediately went online to order one, knowing it would soon be outlawed, put it in my cart, and decided to fight the urge. I had wanted it as a "just in case". I safety net for if the going got too tough. When I checked a week later the seed could no longer be purchased online.
After I lost my best friend I tried harder than ever to end my life and "join her". I am not religious. I simply wanted to join her in non-existence. I nearly jumped off an 11-story building but thanks to my melodramatic "Goodbye." status I posted on facebook my boyfriend at the time had seen it and came rushing to the roof of his building where he tacked me down in the nick of time. When he broke up with me I remember feeling bummed that I would no longer have access to a tall building.
There is also a time I cut myself so badly I needed 40 stitches. I was baker acted. This was under the influence of xanax and vodka and wasn't an attempt to kill myself, but easily could have ended up that way had I not had someone around to baker act me. I know that if I had lived alone during the worst of these years I would be dead. There was another time I almost drowned myself accidentally while black out drunk. My friend/roommate got worried at the length of my shower because of the state of drunkness I was in and when she came in I was curled into a ball with water pooling over my face and completely out. Instead of being thankful for the rescue I was disappointed that once again, I had nearly died and, once again, I was "saved".
The moment that made me decide to say "Fuck it".
Fast-forward to more recently than I care to admit and you would find me in my closet, with a make-shift noose around my neck, and a bag over my head, limbs flailing violently, spasming, snot bubbles coming out of my nose, drool pouring out of my mouth, my vision starting to fade out.
I heard my cat meowing and in the moments leading up to the faded vision, I was thinking about silly things like how I want to finish all the Star Treks, how I like cuddling, how even though I am usually sad there are some nice times. I thought of my friends, all at once, their reactions, I thought of the cat currently meowing and I got really, really scared that it was too late, I was having trouble fumbling to get the noose off and I was thinking "fuck, this is it". I had changed my mind.
Obviously, I eventually got the noose off and coughed, and panted and gasped for air. I was still sad. I still felt that dull, emptiness but one of the things I realized was that I was going to be dead soon enough. With the amount of cigarettes and alcohol I consume I likely am almost 50% through my lifespan. So why go out like this? Why hang myself in a closet and abandon my cat, my friends? Why send a message to young girls who are a fan of my writing and my book that life is not worth living and to just give up? I don't want to send that message and I don't want to cause others the pain I felt when I lost my best friend.
And I really do want to get through all of Star Trek. And I want to see the next season of "Shameless". I want to finish creating my next morbid adult coloring book. I want to care for my cat until she dies of old age. I want to read many, many more books. I want to drink many teas while reading those books. I want to cuddle with my boyfriend. I don't want to die yet. Even if I am usually pretty fucking sad. And even if I find life, tedious and monotonous. I don't want to die, not yet. And besides, I will be dead soon anyways, and it'll take a lot less effort if I just let it happen naturally.
So, I decided to say "Ah, fuck it" and live out my tedious, depressing life.
I wish I had more of an uplifting message to share but I don't. I will say that one day I may be truly happy and I will never know if I opt out of life. I can also say that many, many people would be horribly devastated if I ended my life. I can say that we will all be dead soon enough and I think, at this point, it is useless to try to expedite death when life is really but a flicker in a vast expanse of nothingness. I might not yet be filled with happiness or even void of depression -and maybe it will take meds to fix that- but I can now work toward trying to accomplish that and I can make a difference in the world by sharing my art and my story. And that's kinda better than being a corpse, with a sweater tied around my neck in the closet, right? I think so.
All photos from pixabay.
Although you may not see yourself as very far out of the pit of depression, recognizing that the people around you would be devastated by your death is great progress in my book. When I was deeply depressed, I always assumed people around me would be better off if I were dead.
Of course, having a friend die taught you what it feels like to be left, and your friend's death was probably a pivotal event for you. That you could hear your cat meowing and think of your cat while you were in that terrible place--that's progress.
We change when the pain of staying the same is greater than the fear of change. For you, 'the same' is using cutting, alcohol, recklessness, and suicide attempts to escape the pain of being abused and neglected as a child. Change would be seeking help and not stopping until you find effective help, someone who can walk with you through that dark place while keeping one foot firmly in the present.
For me, finding a counselor who could do that as well as being in a group talking to other people who had been sexually abused as children made the crucial difference.
Thank you for the thoughtful response and you are right I suppose. When I was at my worst I definitely didn't think anyone would care if I died, or even thought they may be relieved. I know that isn't true now.
Losing my best friend was the most pivotal moment of my entire life thus far and it's strange knowing that I would be much worse off were she still alive. We would be enabling one another with binge drinking. I would be not creating art constantly, not writing, not working through my past, and living with abusive people.
Losing her changed everything and though the pain is severe I am honestly dedicated to living fully now, or at least trying to get to a place where I can.
I am definitely going to look for a therapist and am open to meds. I will eventually get my MN id and get medicate. I need to get on that but it's a plan and I am open to trying different people and different meds until I find something that works.
I am also getting a lot better just by writing a lot and creating art and analyzing myself and the reasons I act in certain ways.
That must be painful to recognize how much you and your friend enabled each other. In a way, her death freed you to live.
A lot of the meds suck but sometimes they are part of what's needed, especially if it takes four hours to get out of bed otherwise. If you can run, you might put that into the mix if you aren't doing it already. During a certain period, I would cry as I ran, but it really helped.
I've never really struggled with long term depression, but I can vouch for the fact that "Eh, fuck it" works pretty good for overwhelm and stress, too. Everyone should give it a try, regardless of which emotion looms over them all the time. There should be a self help book and possibly a line of motivational audios under the "Eh, Fuck It" trademark.
Perhaps I can create that book. XD "Eh, Fuck it" really are words to live by. :)
Like those words to live by :)
Me too. XD
I know you said there would be no "Ah ha" moment, but listing the things you still want to do is a great start. Every day you keep fighting, you give yourself another chance at happiness. I hope you are able to get some assistance in making that chance a reality. DO NOT GIVE UP. Keep finding I want to's.
Yeah I initially planned on no "Aha" moment at all but then by the end of writing was remembering things to live for, even silly things. Even wanting to read the next book by a favorite author or see the next season of a show. Even enjoying dirty chai with a double shot of espresso. Whatever it is, I need to remember that once I am dead, that's it. Sure, I lose the suffering but I also lose anything I have ever enjoyed. And since I am going to die in the end anyways, why cut it short? I really think that last very close call opened my eyes. I may not be happy but I don't plan to be trying to end my life either. :)
Sometimes silly things are the best things. Hold on to all the silly things. They will add up.
Aw LL, this hurts to read. I'm so sorry for what you have been through, honey. I'm so sorry for the abuse and the neglect from the people who should have been there the most for you. You are one of my favorite bloggers here. I value your honesty and vulnerability, and your willingness to engage with fellow steemers... AND, there is a book called "Fuck It." It's excellent, I read it, by John C. Parkin.
Aw thank you. I always have a moment of "Should I post this?" before posting the really raw stuff but I will keep on. I like realness and rawness. I will definitely check it out, sounds up my alley. I mean, maybe in the end it'll be "worth it" that I was abused if I can stay strong and help others. That is my goal. :)
You should look into stoicism. Read Oliver Burke's The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can't Stand Positive Thinking. Surprisingly very good and so much better than the insufferable Gretchen Rubin.
Ignore this happiness trend that seems to be sweeping the world. It's bullshit. Life is real, not a series of Hallmark commercials. Studies prove that creativity is often borne from intense, even depressive or traumatic feelings, so there's that as well.
Haha, I tell myself that often. My best art comes from some really dark places and I fine the "happy thoughts" movement condescending. So is the idea that your "positive feelies" can change your reality indefinitely. Suffering exists in great quantities in the world. Yes, there can also be joy, sure but it is not realistic to try to make your reality entirely positive. I will definitely check that book out as I trust your recommendation.
It was a hard read. I enjoyed it, especially for the positive outcome.