uncleal's Diaryland Diary
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I am here
Yesterday morning a teenager committed suicide in his school between first and second period. I know yo uhave to think of my journal as a place where you can read about my sex life, or lack thereof. Some of you seem enjoy watching me whine about this or that. And I will get back to all of that fun junk after this post. Probably.
When I was a teenager, I was suicidal. Hell, it goes back further than that. I can remember being 5 years old, running away from home, throwing myself in front of a car hoping that I didn't "just break a few bones." Between 2nd and 6th grades, I must've written out at least a hundred suicide notes. Not that anyone ever came to me about them. But they were there. In my required journal for English class. I recently read a few of my old journals, and it just seemed like it was cover to cover death wish. I wanted to die to make the kids in my class sorry for treating me so poorly. I wanted to die to get out of having to know about another birthday party that I wasn't invited to. I wanted to die because class was boring and at least death was an adventure. But mostly I wanted to die because I felt as though my parents didn't love me the way I wanted them to. I had a brief respite from my crazy feelings during 7th and 8th grade. But then in highschool, those feelings came back with such a force I was in and out of hospitals like they were band camp. Mental hospitals and medical hospitals, I was either recouperating from the latest attempt, or being sent away for my safety.
For the record, my parents were fantastic. They both worked so they could feed us and clothe us, and such. My mom worked from home so she could also be there to rear us. Make sure we got our vitamins, and weren't pigging out on TV - that sort of thing. They both played games with us, and my dad made sure that weekends had special time slots for me, my brother , and my mother. This way he was able to spend one-on-one time with each of us, and we all felt special. Sundays were family game day. We would play monopoly, or risk, or parcheesi, or uno, or well there were a lot of games we played. My favorite was a board game with a little computer attached to it called "Dark Tower." Which I should talk more about in future entries since it is another one of those throwbacks from my childhood I would like to have again if anyone else has it and wants to sell it.
Somehow, my warped head turned all of these things against my parents, and against myself. I imagined that my father felt forced into spending time with me. I felt like my mom was home so she was obviously ignoring me when what she was really doing was earning her paycheck. I believed that I was a burden on my family. That their lives would be better if they no longer had to worry about me. I had read books, I had lost loved ones. I knew the pain eventually would fade, and they'd be better off with one less mouth to feed, one less kid to chase, one less noise in the middle of a migraine. As I got older, the need to kill myself got stronger. I had been hurt so many times by family, friends, strangers. I had hurt so many people, by my own hands, with my words, even just by not knowing that I was needed. I felt that this must stop. And since for the most part I had hurt those people unintentionally, there was no way to protect them, or others from me. I broke up with good boyfriends, because I wanted to be single, I cheated on other boyfriends because I didn't want to hurt them by breaking up with them. I ignored friends who were crying out to me for companionship. I aided in the loss of the virginity of a preacher's son who apparently didn't want to lose it (it was consentual at the time, but I was told afterwards that I should have known he didn't want to - he was the youth group leader for chissakes!). I slept with friends boyfriends because I figured that would show them that their man was a cheating bastard. Instead it showed them that their friend was a heartless slut. I made careless comments that hurt people I was close to, whether friendly, or just in proximity. It seemed everything I did, every word I uttered hurt people. People whom I had made it my purpose to help. People whom I had fallen in love with. People I didn't even know. I was desperate to stop hurting them, and in turn, myself. I attempted suicide. I called out for help. I didn't want the help to keep me alive, I wanted to the help to figure out how I could stop hurting those around me. I knew that if I committed suicide I would hurt the people who had stood by me through it all, and I would never be able to make it better. I would never be able to apologize for the final blow. I would never be able to put things to rights.
It has been 6 years since my last suicide attempt. I am a single mother (I have a wonderful boyfriend, but he and I will probably never marry, so I am destined to forever think of myself as 'single.') with a good job, and a happy boy. I make enough money to take care of my family, and I have taken the time to learn to stop unintentionally hurting people. I have also come to realize that sometimes people blame you for the pain they are feeling because they'd rather you feel the guilt than admit that it was their own doing, and that with enough work they can get themselves back to feeling better.
What I want to say to all of you out there in the internet world, is no matter how bad things are. No matter what your reason for wanting to end your life - IT GETS BETTER!
Life always continues on the rollercoaster analogy. It goes up, it goes down, it flips you, and twists you, and it sometimes makes you sick to your stomach. And death seems to be quite an adventure, whichI am looking forward to. The same I look forward to watching my kids graduate from college. I don't want to miss everything in between, but I definately hope to enjoy it when it comes.
Anyway, please, if you're feeling depressed, or suicidal please talk to someone. Before it is too late. Life is so wonderful an experience. Maybe not so much right this moment, and maybe not so far, but you've got a long way to go, and it does get better. Age does bring wisdom, and 20/20 hindsight vision. And if you don't feel like you can talk to anyone else, I am here M-F, but never on weekends, so just hold off until I can talk to you during the week. I'll try to help you myself, but mostly, I'll probably hook you up with someone in your area that you can turn to.
Please don't take your own life. Challenge yourself to see the day when you can look back on this moment and laugh, or cry, but look back either way.
8:01 A.M. - Wednesday, Dec. 13, 2006
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