I am displaying the Trigger Warning sign on this post as this post deals with matters of both suicide and self-harming.
Members and readers are therefore encouraged to use discretion and consider very carefully whether they wish to continue reading.
I received an email this morning to which the following article/post was attached. In the e-mail I was asked if I would consider posting the attached article/post.
Having considered it very carefully I have indeed decided to publish the article as it is in my opinion, well written, informative, honest and in many ways very raw.
I also feel that not only will it help others to understand what suicidal ideation can be like but that it will open up comments to the author.
In truth I do not know which member sent the post to me as I do not recognize the email address, but I am grateful to them and hope that our members – having considered the warning displayed above – will read the following post/article and respond as their harts lead them. (I have not edited the following post/article in anyway)…
I think this blog post will be the hardest one I`ve ever written, normally my writing is upbeat and entertaining to say the least. However this post is different and like my disorder it changes because it`s simply not a topic I can easily talk about with ease. My moods even on medication shift and I`ve now begun my journey to Lake Depression, something I feared all this time. Wanting to kill yourself is not something you`d bring up with friends at a party or any other location. For me I`ve always told people when I`m suicidal and I don`t know why. People have said that I`m only seeking attention when I utter attempts to kill myself, in a way they are correct. I want the world to know that at the exact moment of when I tell them, I have the pills and a water bottle in my hands deciding whether to end my life. This is the part of being bipolar that isn`t fun but where it`s downright scary. The nagging urge to kill yourself on a daily basis fills your mind and all your thoughts and dreams are about death or killing yourself. I first started daydreaming about death when I was ten or fourteen which later progressed to dreams of me tying bed sheets together and hanging myself.
That year my parents had divorced and like any normal kid depression would follow. Your entire life is disappearing and there`s nothing you can do to stop it however in a sense I was relieved that my father was no longer living with us, his physical abuse would now end forever. But the depression got worse to the extent were I had prayed to God why my father just didn`t kill me, why did I have to do this? My mind constantly told me I was at fault for my parents marriage to break up and the only solution would be to kill myself. It took two weeks for me to finally get the courage to get the pills and water and I sat up late one night on the computer crying my eyes out. Crushed the ten Tylenol and mixed it in the water and I debated again whether I should literally do this. My mind told me I deserved to die I was not a person who deserved to live, people would no longer care or remember me and all the times my father ever hit me or degraded me I had deserved it all because I didn`t deserve to live. Eventually I didn`t do it and the suicidal depression lasted another week until it ceased. Throughout all my life my depressive episodes start intense really fast and always have a suicidal attempt and half the time no one knows I`ve even tried to kill myself. The least I can say is that I`ve tried or planned to kill myself at least fourteen times most of those have been planned.
The one time I was hospitalized for depression I was admitted because I had wanted to cut my jugular with a butcher`s knife one week after the end of the Christmas holidays. I had already picked a time and a date and had even practiced each night after everyone had went to bed how to cut my neck so I wouldn`t feel the pain or die slowly. The abnormal guilt that I had for my father`s abuse and any other minor problem had pushed me so close to the edge that I was completely done. A positive thing would occur from my death and everyone would be happy. Tyler the trouble boy, Tyler the overdramatic, Tyler the attention seeker would now be dead. They would mourn and cry for a couple weeks to play the show and just like that the world would forget me. It ironic that while manic I always thought that I needed the world to know me if I ever died but at this time I wanted my history that had haunted me for so long to disappear. Over the countless years my depression continues to get worse to a point it gets so severe that even push people away in the fear that I`d get them hurt. However I have had two friends that have caused me to become suicidal, looking back at it know it seems so foolish that I let friends push me to the edge of suicide but it happens. With the first friend I knew her for three years and so close and unfortunately I got depressed one summer.
It got so bad I burnt myself to try and relive the pain that I felt. At this point I was begging her to visit me because I was so suicidal that I was scared and I wanted to say goodbye to her. Every day I would send a her a text message until it got to a point where she ended our friendship. I didn`t eat for five days , didn`t shower and didn`t bother to come out of my room and when I did it was only to find a way to kill myself. For weeks I planned ways to die it was just no use to in living when I had no one else willing to at least listen or talk to me. That was the hard put in understanding that I could possibly die alone with this disease. This year alone I`ve had three depressive episodes that have all resulted into suicidal attempts. This year I lost another close friend and got arrested as well, needless to say all of it pushed me to the edge. I remember one time where I was driving with my mom to my lawyer`s office when I just wanted to open the car door and jump into incoming traffic on the highway . It became a recurrent daydream whether I was in a car or on a bus.
I remember when I just couldn`t take it anymore when I decided I wanted to end it all and just feel peaceful. Got off the bus and waited for a car to come down the street and when I did see one I jumped in front just wishing not to get injured and live but to just die. The driver missed me and drove off after getting out and constantly asking if I was okay. The fact is I wasn`t okay and I don`t think I`m okay right now either. It`s been a week and a half and I`ve just been thinking do I deserve to live? Most of the time it`s a yes of course but now I get no sometimes. I’ve lost so many friends , a lot of them won`t even speak to me. I`ve lost my dignity and self-respect and worst of all I`ve lost what it truly feels to be normal for a change. I`m in a phase of my life where I should be enjoying life to the full extent however I`m now entering the phase of a severe depressive episode. I long for the day when I no longer have thoughts about death or daydreaming about my funeral or even hanging myself. I just wish sometimes I could be happy for once , just one minute of normality. I always cry when I see my friends live a normal life because I can never have that, that simple reflection of what life could be like is something I have always longed for and will continue to search for.