TW: Suicide, self harm and eating disorders
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Mental health is an ever changing, evolving, growing thing and really taking a step back to fully grasp it’s entirety is daunting. But the other day, I realized something about mine that I hope helps whoever may find this.
The first time I wanted to end my own life, I was 14.
People who have lost a loved one to suicide always have questions like “How could they do this? They had so much life left to live!” and “Didn’t they know I love and care about them? Why didn’t they talk to me about this?” Well, I’m almost 26 years old and I only just now figured out how to actually articulate this feeling. It’s not an easy thing to express. And how can you expect someone that loves you to look you in the eye and say, “I want to die sometimes.” without it ending badly?
I’ve tried being that open before, just in case. You know what that person did? They laughed and said, “Stop being dramatic, your life isn’t that hard.” But in reality, yes it was. My life has been that fucking hard. But then I was told “There are lots of people out there with much harder lives and they make it work. Besides, if you died, everyone else would be sad.”
But the most important things to remember are: committing suicide isn’t about everyone else and one person’s suffering does not devalue or undermine another’s.
When I was a teenager, I knew about all the dangers and harms of drugs and self harm but still made the choice anyway. I stayed away from drugs because I knew addiction runs in my family. But at 14 years old, I had no control over any of my life. I had already been sexually assaulted by three separate men at three different stages of my life. My parents were divorced and as a result I was basically living out of my suitcase because of the parenting plan they came up with. I was dealing with emotional and physical abuse from both parents and kids at school. I had no say in anything and nothing I did ever made it better. Looking back at old photos of myself, I was so thin but felt so large. I was starving myself hoping that in controlling food I would feel more in control of my life and would lose weight in the process, but it never made me feel any better, or ever stopped the bullying. I was never thin enough, smart enough, and was called every name in the book by someone I felt never should have. Nothing helped the rage and hopelessness I was living with.
So, I started cutting; first my forearm and then eventually my legs. I thought, this is how I can channel my rage. This is how I can punish myself for never being enough. Cutting, along with suicidal ideation served it’s intended purpose, in that it made me feel better, but only extremely temporarily. Just in case someone reading this has never self harmed, let me take a moment to explain the science behind it all. When you get some kind of wound, your brain automatically sends endorphins to help you cope with the pain whether it’s self inflicted or not. So (at least for me) when you got home from a stressful day or just got through another several hour yelled lecture and you’re full of all these different emotions that you have no way of dealing with, how do you make yourself feel better? How do you get through it? Punish yourself, express that rage and get endorphins you can feel on demand.
But here’s the thing, whenever I was having these thoughts, I didn’t ever actually want to stop living, I just needed a moment to rest. I knew, even then, that life wouldn’t always be that way. I knew once I was an adult and moved away from my parents that I could hopefully level myself out. But when you’re struggling with all of these outside factors on top of depression (and at the time, undiagnosed CPTSD), time has a way of standing still and feeling like the moment you’re in will never actually end.
And I think that’s how it is for a lot of us who have struggled with self harm and suicidal thoughts. Life can be so fucking hard sometimes and it has a way of keeping the punches coming, even if you’re already metaphorically laying on the ground in the fetal position in a pile of your own vomit. The punches keep coming. And for awhile, we tell ourselves to just get through today and we’ll be okay. Just through the next couple of hours and then we can go home. Just a little bit longer. But the tricky thing about mental health is, it follows you everywhere you go. The negative thoughts echoing everything the people in your life are saying, the mental illnesses telling you you’re not good or strong enough to get through this.
All of it.
So what happens when you get through those couple hours, through that day and nothing has changed? What happens when you go home with the goal of resting and unwinding and getting yourself on the track to get better, but then you get home to even more and new stressors? Now you just have to get through the night… just a little bit longer…
Eventually, that time adds up. Eventually you stop and really realize just how exhausted you are and how tired of life you are. And for me, that’s when the suicidal thoughts start.
If I just killed myself, I wouldn’t have to worry about the power bill being two months behind.
If I was dead, having enough money to survive wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
If I was dead, I could finally rest.
2019 had been a really tough year for my family and I. I’m not going to lie to you and say I haven’t struggled with thoughts of self harm and suicide several times, because I have. Within the last couple days even. But realizing this about myself, that my soul just needs time to rest, has given me the opportunity to adjust other things in my life to allow this rest to happen.
We get so wrapped up in bills, expectations of what we think our life should be by other people’s standards and trying to live a life we actually want, that we forget to actually do it.
So, I guess my long winded rant is more so to tell you that even when life is pure chaos and you just can’t seem to catch a break, take one anyway. Make your mental well being a priority and find what helps your soul feel rested.
And if someone comes to you confiding that they’re reaching a ledge, don’t tell them your emotional well being is more important than theirs and that it’d make you sad if they jumped off of it. Instead, ask them how you can help. Ask them what they need for their soul to be able to rest and allow them to actually catch a breath because feeling this way sucks all of the air out of the room, regardless of open windows.
Sometimes, we just need rest.
(Originally written in December 2018)
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