Honestly, I Was Suicidal For Years

In university I tried to kill myself twice. In my life, probably a dozen times. 2009 was the last time though. I have had the thoughts since then, but I vowed not to. When I got back, I saw my family doctor. He asked if I was going to try again, I replied that it never works, so no. Now, I have my children to live for. I love them so much. No matter how hard or lonely my life is, I love my little leaches. They inspire me so much. I also have a healthy fear of the afterlife. If I die, do I come back? Am I a ghost? What am I? What if I am reborn under worst circumstances? What if I’m destined to repeat my soul lessons until I toughen up? What if my kids have kids with FPIES and they need my help and support? I want to always be here for my babies.

The first time I tried to kill myself I was ten years old. It was labour day weekend before grade 5. My best friend at the time was over for her tenth sleepover that summer. I got into my mother’s bottle of clonazepam. My friend caught me and took the other half of the bottle. We ended up being high as a kite but totally fine. We went to the hospital and drank some tar like substance and were home the next day. I can’t fully explain why I did it. It was also the night I cut myself for the first time. I don’t even know where I got the idea from. I had anxiety about school. It was possibly my first panic attack. Something came over me like I was good, I was done. School was admittedly exhausting, and I did have ignored stomach issues. Since I stopped puking, there was no reason to go home from school. I was constantly toughing it out.

Over the next eight years I tried repeatedly to kill myself. I did so in secret with only a select few knowing the depths of my depression. I mostly kept everything private. I didn’t see the point in burdening others. I didn’t think anyone could help me feel better. In high school the vomiting came back as I switched up my diet. Living with my mother meant more dinners with cheese and pasta. Moving in with her made me sicker than ever. She was also smoking in the house. My father smoked too but he installed a fancy air filtration system when my youngest brother was diagnosed with Asma. I missed my father, that didn’t help.

I’m so grateful to be in a place where I value my life. I’m so done with that kind of thinking. I want more than anything to have a full life with my family. I’m looking towards the future, although I wanted to acknowledge the past. I have so much to look forward too. I hope if you are in a dark place you find the things to help you push through. Feelings may be overwhelming but they do pass.

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