(This is a two-part post)
September is National Suicide Prevention Month. For those of us who have attempted suicide, this month can be difficult. Let’s face it, suicide is just a hard subject to talk about. Why? Because it may bring back the hurt, pain, and feelings of depression that brought you to that point in the first place. Plus, in our communities, the subject is taboo. Because we don’t talk about it, suicide is now affecting our children. Sadly, children as young as nine-years-old get to the point where they feel there is no other answer than taking their precious, young lives due to being bullied in school.
Depression is an evil demon. It takes over every aspect of your life. It steals from you. I didn’t realize it then, but my depression started during my sheltered childhood. During my early adult life, it disappeared. But it came back full force right before I got married and has been with me ever since. It changes you. I transformed from the fun-loving, joking, kind, making people laugh person to being a short-tempered, unhappy, and sad version of myself. But I tried my best to remain optimistic. Soon my circumstances caused me to become manic. My depression was so severe I was on several medications. The pills never really helped, but I kept taking them.
My partner’s infidelity, being hundreds of miles from home, having no family or friends to lean on, all compounded my feelings of worthlessness and low self-esteem. I didn’t dare tell anyone back home the hell I was living. I thought I deserved it. I really believed because I was constantly cheated on that I was not enough for him or any man. So, I made sure to go to every doctor’s appointment so I wouldn’t run out of narcotics. Midrin was a red capsule used to treat migraines. It never worked unless I took too many which was often. I abused every narcotic I got my hands on trying to numb the emotional, mental, and physical pain.
The first time I tried to take my life, I was drained, emotionless, and exhausted. I had no strength left to fight. I waited until my spouse was about an hour away from getting off work and I put my babies down for a nap and kissed them goodbye. I came downstairs and threw about 20 Midrin down my throat. I remember them not wanting to go down all at once, so I had to spit them out and swallow a couple at a time. I laid down and felt the fading effect quickly. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I was disappointed to still be alive. I never told my then-husband or family until years later.
(To be continued)