The Day That I Survived Suicide

Trigger warning: Suicide, depictions of self-injury.

This is a very raw, honest account of my suicide attempt in mid-2012. These are thoughts and feelings I had in the moments leading up to my suicide attempt.

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide and/or self-injury, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255.

————————————————————————–

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I’ve heard these seven words in different incarnations from different people throughout my life. I’ve heard these seven words so much that I really started to believe it.
These seven words are burned into my consciousness.
They plague my existence.
They haunt me like malicious apparitions waiting to eviscerate my soul.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

These words came from the one woman whom I loved.
My wife.
To have and to hold from this day forth. You may kiss the bride.
I loved you with all my heart and soul.
She said she loved me.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Burned into my soul these words. They haunt me to this very day.
I trusted you! I loved you! I gave you everything and much, much more.
And you just gave up. You fucking coward.
You said you loved me.
YOU BITCH! You said you loved me.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

These words have now become a mantra.
These words have become my hope and my dreams and my fear and my fucking reality
I am now become these words. I am hate and lies and darkness and death.
I am Jack’s evil darkness cutting and death.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Crying, cutting, bleeding. Punching myself. Rocking back and forth, knowing this is the end.
In the middle of a hotel room. In Southwest Washington state. All alone.
Too scared and embarrassed tell my family and very close friends.
Too far gone to ask for help.
They would never believe me. Ashamed. So fucking ashamed.
This is where I’ve come to die.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

My belt is laying on the bed. It says hello to me.
It wants to help me in my sadness.
It wants to be my friend.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I’m hysterical. Uncontrollable. So lost. SO FUCKING LOST.
This is going to be the end.
“SHE SAID SHE FUCKING LOVED ME!!!!”
I’m rocking back and forth.
I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop crying.
I CAN’T STOP FUCKING CRYING!

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I slowly walk into the bathroom. Cutting…shallow cuts. Legs are bleeding.
I step into the bathtub and wrap the belt around my neck.
Cinch it tighter. Make this hurt.
I throw the other part of the belt around the plastic shower curtain rod.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Those words are getting louder.
Unbearable. Really unbearable. Really loud.
REALLY FUCKING LOUD!!!!

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I try to jump down on my knees but the shower curtain rod breaks toward me.
My body slams against the tiled wall behind me.
I crumble in pieces in the bathtub.
Broken. Bruised. Bloody.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Those voices are laughing at me.
LAUGHING AT ME!!!!
No one will love you now.
Wasted, pathetic life you are the voices said.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop fucking crying.
Help me! Someone fucking help me!
She said she loved me.
YOU FUCKING BITCH!
You said you loved me.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I’m rocking back-and-forth. In a bathtub. In the middle of a hotel room.
With a belt wrapped around my neck. All alone.
Too scared to share with my family or my very close friends.
This is where I’ve come to die.
I can’t stop crying. I CAN’T STOP FUCKING CRYING!

She said she loved me.

She said she’d love me.

If you are struggling with the pressures of life, please reach out to a mental health professional for help. If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255.

This was originally a guest blog posted on Stigma Fighters. Thank you Sarah Fader, Allie Burke, and Nicole Lyons.  For more information regarding this amazing mental health non-profits please visit the Stigma Fighters website.

2 thoughts on “The Day That I Survived Suicide

Add yours

  1. Oh God! This is powerful. I’m so sorry you’ve been in THAT place… I can relate (though in my case it was pills rather than belt). I’m glad you lived to tell (to write) so movingly…emotively, your story.

    There will be many who get this…I get this!… I’ll share with a Trigger Warning because there may be some who are too vulnerable ATM to cope with the familiarity of your thoughts/words, with the imagery. But…(I know) that equally there will be many who will find comfort in knowing they are not alone. Thank you for sharing so honestly… bravely! You are an incredible writer.

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