When I was just 17, I made a desperate decision that nearly cost me my life. Armed with a bottle of pain relievers and a can of soda, I wrote a detailed four-page letter in vibrant aqua gel ink—filled with apologies and explanations. I tucked it into my back pocket and headed to a nearby park, where I poured the colorful capsules into my palm.
I still recall the names I wrote about: Mom, Grandma, Nick, Sarah, Jordan, and Lisa. I wanted them to understand my sorrow and the depth of my pain. I needed them to know it wasn’t their fault.
I took pills—four, then five, then six—choking them down with gulps of soda. With each handful of capsules, I felt a knot form in my throat, a reminder of the fight I was trying to escape. This wasn’t a cry for help; I was convinced I wouldn’t survive this. But against all odds, my body fought back when my mind had given up. After nearly two days of relentless vomiting, I emerged—five pounds lighter and more confused than ever, but alive.
Awakening wasn’t a testament to my strength or willpower; it was sheer luck. I had miscalculated my attempt, and here I was, alive but feeling like a failure. I lay there, wishing I could simply disappear, feeling like nothing more than a “failed suicide.”
I thought to myself, “What value do I have if I can’t even carry out my own plan?” Yet, after two days of purging every ounce of food from my system, I became numb to the world around me. I resumed my life—going to school, dating, preparing for graduation—simply going through the motions of existence. I was surviving on autopilot, eating and sleeping but hardly thriving.
Today, I identify as a “suicide survivor,” but more importantly, I see myself as someone who rose from the ashes of despair. My experience has shaped my perspective on life. While I still grapple with depression, I now recognize the value of being alive.
This journey was not instantaneous; I battled suicidal thoughts for years, and even recently. While I haven’t attempted to take my life again since that day, the fear still lingers.
If you find yourself contemplating suicide, I want you to know that you are not alone. It may sound cliché, but it’s true. I won’t tell you everything will improve because I can’t guarantee that. However, if you’re reading this, perhaps there’s a flicker of hope within you. Hold on to that uncertainty, that doubt about ending it all. Just hang on.
If you’ve just “woken up,” remember: you are not a failure, and you are much more than your suicide attempt. Even if you feel like you’re just getting by, you are functioning, and that is a significant step. Continue to take care of yourself—get dressed, shower, eat meals—because things can improve. Someday, you might find moments of true happiness in the little things.
Remember, there is help available. Challenges and mental health struggles might seem overwhelming, but they are not permanent. Many people are ready to support you through this tough time. For additional resources, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination or visit Intracervical Insemination’s authority on this topic.
For anyone navigating their own path, know that you are not alone, and you can find support.