Written by Sara
“I need you to help me kill myself”.
The room is silent as my parents stare across the room at me. They’re on one couch, I’m on the other. If they’re scared, they don’t show it.
“I can’t do it myself. It won’t work”.
I wait as they mull this over. I’m not aware of it at the time, but it’s hard to think of the right thing to say when your daughter wants you to euthanize her.
Dad looks at me, “No”.
“You’re selfish!” I snarl. “I have to live this life, not you. Why should I suffer? Why should you be allowed to keep me alive simply because you want me to be? Just because you’ll be a bit sad for a while?”
Silence.
“You’ll be upset at first, but as time goes on, you’ll come to realise this was the best decision for everyone”. At the time, I truly believe this.
“We will never get over it”. Someone says. Mum or Dad. I don’t know. My ability to concentrate is hazy.
This is rock bottom; asking the people who created me to help me die because I am too incompetent to do it myself.
To me, the best possible solution for everybody was that I was dead. Plain and simple. Black and white. I did not see the inbetween, the possibilities of getting better, of being better, I forgot what it felt like to feel good, to be alive. I could not do anything to lift myself out of it.
The only thing I thought would work was death because then I would not be in it anymore and it was unbearable.
“When you are 40, if you have felt this way continuously, I will help you” Dad whispers. I believe him. There is an endpoint. I only have to wait for twenty years. My mind is so disordered that this seems like a reasonable conclusion.
It’s an odd feeling when your mind sits at the bottom of a lake. Lying on those cold and slippery rocks feels like death itself. But slowly, with love from my parents, and drugs and time I was pulled away from death.
It’s hard to move under the pressure of the water. Especially when you are so far down that you don’t even know where you are. But my parents never stopped. They kept on pulling me up, no matter how heavy I was. No matter how grim it seemed. They were always there, with love and support and encouragement.
Once I could see the surface, I started to push myself. Slowly and painfully at first, and then the closer I got, the harder I worked. I’m not eloquent enough to describe how it felt when my head finally broke free from the water; how relieved I was to reach the surface, how good it felt to breath in air, and light and life again.
But rock bottom isn’t where my story begins, and breaking the surface isn’t where it ends.
It’s hard to say with any sort of certainty when my depressions started. Let’s say age 12, because it’s easy, and my memories are dark around the edges before that point.
I have always tended to brush my experiences off as if they were just grains of sand, irritating but meaningless. Easily removed, and easily forgotten. As a child, I rarely made a fuss about how awful I felt, how much I wanted to die. It was a secret. My secret and besides, I’d never known any different. It wasn’t as if I was happy at one point, and miserable the next. There was no clear beginning to the downward spiral. It seemed to me as if it had always been there.
I didn’t think I was special, or different, or weird (although the kids at school thought I was). I just thought I was a normal child, who did normal things, and I saw nothing particularly odd about my moods and my behaviours. Thinking about suicide was just something I did. It was a part of my life, and I didn’t share those thoughts with others. I kept mostly everything to myself. This is the first reason for misdiagnosis.
If I had been able to keep these moods contained within myself, without them overflowing into my life, into the view of others, then no one would have known any different. But when you are unwell, suffering from an illness, it grows and it extends and what were unpleasant and painful feelings suddenly became overtly hostile, aggressive and irrational behaviour. My father (a clinical psychologist), believed I had behavioural problems. He blamed my personality. It was me, not an illness. It’s not serious, she’s just a ghastly person. Perhaps he would argue this were not true, but that is how it always looked to me; that is how it still looks. This is the second reason for misdiagnosis.
The specifics are irrelevant. The pattern began and once it had, it repeated itself, over, and over again: I was depressed, I was hypomanic/mixed/manic. I was in school, I was out of school. I had friends, I had no friends. I was anxious, I wasn’t anxious. I abused alcohol and drugs. I didn’t touch them. I was sexual, I was ashamed.
Some people look back on happy childhoods “oh to be a kid again”. But for me, to be 11 is to be anxious, scared, afraid. To be 13 is to be arrested for drunken disorderly behaviour; a wild child fuelled by drugs, alcohol and sex. To be 14 is to be overcome with guilt because I cannot smile on my birthday, my heart and my mind too heavy with loneliness, with pain. To be 16 again is to be bedridden by sadness, misdiagnosed, suicidal. Hopeless. These are not the memories of a happy childhood. These are memories, tedious to recall, lived once and trying to be forgotten. These are memories that tug at my consciousness. They want to be known. I do not want to know them.
But it wasn’t all bad. My Mum said this to me recently, and she was right. It wasn’t. But to live so much of your life depressed, to have your life shaped by dark moods and darker thoughts, they cloud my vision and I struggle to recall the good amongst the bad. There are bright, happy memories and they stand out like diamonds in the dirt. But like diamonds, they are rare. I catch their glint when my mood is good enough that the sky is clear and the sun shines through. But with the clouds of depression, their light fades and these diamond memories disappear.
The journals from my childhood are filled with lists of qualities I wanted to possess. I wrote a lot about the person I wanted to be. The goals I wanted to reach; my dreams. I wrote a lot about turning over a new leaf. The voice of the real me, trying to break out and break through and come into being. With changing moods, none of those plans ever lasted. They were made and never followed through, written and forgotten. Depression made me tired; my will weak. Hypomanic and I lost my focus. Mixed moods and I became a clenched fist, ready to pound the flesh of anyone who crossed me.
Sometimes I wish I could go back, make changes, try harder. But mostly I am grateful. I am grateful for all of those years of confusion, sadness, and pain. I am grateful for never reaching my full potential. I am grateful because I never really had a “me” to lose. I never knew who I truly was, and when my diagnosis was given to me, my therapist at the time helped me to see that since I never really was someone, I could now choose the person I wanted to be. I am grateful because now I can be the real me. I can follow through on my plans. I can reach my full potential.
I am grateful because I am free.
When I was 20 years old, I asked my parents to help me die. I was convinced this was the best course of action, the best decision, for everyone. I believed I would always feel that way. I knew I would. I knew it would never end; there was no hope, no chance, no way out – except by death.
I was wrong.
Sara hasn’t continuously felt suicide is her only option. In the past four years, Sara has committed herself to her recovery and she has developed a strong will to live a long, meaningful life. Currently, Sara is completing a Masters Degree in Psychology with the aim of becoming a Clinical Psychologist.
Tallulah “Lulu” Stark
This resonated with me. All of it. I used to feel like Bipolar Disorder robbed me of a childhood. Like you described, it took so much away. But, it did give me some things that others will never know. It gave me the depths of emotions, both good and bad, that others will never experience. Also, it gave me the wisdom extracted from those experiences to carry with me.
You are fortunate in the respect that you had loved ones help you. Many people who suffer(ed) from early-onset BP are not so blessed. Too often it is mistaken as a phase, complete with rebellious, attention-seeking behavior. What many fail to realize is that typically developing children don’t regard death with any enthusiasm.
I am glad that you were able to reap that benefit. Because there are people like yourself and I that speak about early-onset BP, parents may become more aware of the existence and possibility.
Excellent piece!
The Bipolar Project
Thank you Lulu. My father did continuously suggest my problems were entirely behavioural, rebellious, attention-seeking and not due to any serious sort of condition. He was unable to face up to the fact that there might actually be something wrong with me, and this meant that I was not supported or cared for properly for a long-time. On the other hand, my mother made tireless efforts to find out what was happening, and to get me help. It must have been hard for her having my father in her ear, supposed to be knowledgeable about mental illness and yet always telling her it was simply just how I was. It was only once I completely lost it that he began to think there might be something up, and although he did try to help even when I was unwell, I felt that he never helped me in the ways that I needed. He is responsible for me seeing the best psychiatrist, for seeing therapists and that sort of thing. He did many good things, but it sticks with me the accusation that my behaviour is my personality. He always told me, even when I was completely manic and out of touch with reality, that I was able to control my behaviour.
I think the way he thought and the things he said are more reflective of his inability to accept the situation for what it is, as opposed to anything else.
It is my hope, that with more knowledge and awareness that health professionals, parents and schools will ask the right questions – no one ever asked me the right questions and that I guess is the third reason for misdiagnosis.
Thank you for commenting 🙂
Mary
My daughter is going through this, she wants to die, but is not suicidal, she says she doesn’t fit in this world, even the air hurts her skin. I can’t get her to see a therapist as they haven’t helped in the past. I don’t know what to say or do, I need help to help her.. I’m drowning with her.
Pamela Gold
I know this feeling all too well. I just finished up 6 rounds of ECT and think I feel worse.
The Bipolar Project
Hi Pamela,
I am sorry you feel worse. I hope that you have gained something from what I wrote – that there is hope, that we can feel better even if we feel or think we know that we never can and never will. These days, I just want to live. I believe we can all be healed, to some extent and I hope you believe that too. I wish you all the best.
– Sara
bipolarmuse
I really enjoyed this. Not because of the sadness or desperation, but because of the end. I have been in such a depressed place, and then was being tested for thyroid cancer. I was so depressed before I even knew I had thyroid problems that I confided in close friends that I would not even try to fight it if I did get a cancer diagnosis. They, of course, argued with me about it. I did not have cancer, and now, ten years later, I am grateful. I have felt horrible since then and I have destroyed my life a couple times since then… but I have also had the beauty of building relationships with my family, gave birth to 2 more children, experienced the joy of my children, felt love. So much more to it than what is felt during depression. On the same token, I admire that her Father would help “if” at 40yrs of age she felt the same. I don’t view suicide as the cowardly act. It is the act of an unhealthy brain. We have an inert desire to live forever, yet our brains can take that desire away and make us crave death. That is an unhealthy brain. I have felt that way before, and I am glad I waited it out… or I would have missed so many life experiences that I love and cherish even in pain, and I would have destroyed my oldest children and family. And worst of all, I would not have been blessed with my youngest children.
This was an excellent piece and I am glad that you brought it to our attention again. I did read it the first time and was very touched, just didn’t know what to say at the time.
♥
The Bipolar Project
Thank you for your comment and sharing your experience. My favourite part is the ending too. I feel very emotional when I read the end (and I do like to read it every now and then to remind myself of how wrong I was), because I am so thankful that I never followed through on it, and to remind myself that what I “know” in one moment in time is so likely to be different from what I “know” in another moment. Like you, so many amazing things have happened to me since that time, and if I had taken my life I would not have been able to experience life as I do now.
I think there are so many people out there that have felt that suicide is their only option, and then lived and had their life turn around. Sometimes I feel that that story is buried amongst the despair of those who have not yet reached that place – and I truly believe we can all be healed, and that there is hope for all of us. If one person who feels hopeless can be given a shred of hope that they might be wrong, then I have done what I intended.
– Sara
Shauna Smith
Bravo!! I read through this and felt your pain, I think a lot of us can relate to this and the ending. There is hope! We cannot see it when we are in the depths of depression and we think ending it is the only answer but there are so many other answers you just have to reach out and find them. Talk to those you love and who love you and one day you too will see hope.. I love that you are sharing this story.. Thank you for what you do for others… 🙂
Shauna
Holly
Thank you. It was amazing to read this, since I’ve had this exact same conversation with my husband (nearly verbatim), most recently last week. In my writings, I’ve also used being in water as a metaphor for the overwhelming emotions that drown me. You’re an inspiration for me.
Iain
This all resonates with me too-I was diagnosed 5 years ago at the age of 43-apart from the 2-year long “high” which was amazing and felt great at the time I have felt sucidal every day because I can’t work-my ex got me a criminal record due to events during the high which everyone agrees was merely an exaggerated version of the real me and even my ex agrees I am not a bad man but she has now moved on has our two lovely children and a new bloke-no contest really-strangely my teenage years were all right in many ways but every time I changed schools it was me and me alone who moved (not excluded or anything just to do with catchment areas and moves for father’s work) so I developed scripts for each move that were 80% fact based-I have great difficulty occupying my time now and know this is me for the rest of my days-48 is not old but might as well be 75+ in danger everywhere I go now that’s why I wish I had somewhere neat and private to do a “Gary Speed” who I used to admire (and have the occasional bet on)-those who have written of hope identify having family and friends who care about them-mine shun me entirely-lately it’s only been my 12-year old son who’s shown understanding but he can’t (be expected to) get the other members of my family to tune in and give me another chance-I wouldn’t blow it agan but it’s too late for me now.
The Bipolar Project
I’m sorry it’s been a while since you left your comment Iain. Thanks for commenting, and your story is so sad for me to read. You are right – people who have hope do identify family and friends who care about them – and to be in your position must be hard.
It’s not all rosy on this side either. I have few friends. No one calls when you’re mentally ill. They turn away. What is an illness is often seen as personality, and people blame you for something you try so hard to manage, but fail to time and time again (it happens to me too.
Cherish your son. One person is better than none, even if he is a child, it shows that he loves you, and that your influence on him has been important. It takes a wise and compassionate child to show understanding. Wise and compassionate children grow up to do their parents proud.
I hope you hold on to hope. It is excruitating when people turn away. I can’t say my own family have, but friends have (I know, it’s not the same). Thinking those I love would not be there hurts in every part of me. And that is just imaginary pain. It has nothing on the real thing.
But I hope you hold on to hope anyway. All that you can do now is do the best that you can in the situation you are in. You can focus on being the person you want to be, you can expend your efforts on doing things that are meaningful and important to you, things that make you feel just a little bit better. You don’t have to move mountains as they say, you just have to do the little things. They build up in the long-run. They do help. You can build new relationships, and new love and you can enjoy the relationship with your son. It is never to late to find love and companionship. Be it romantic or otherwise. I urge you to give yourself another chance.
I hope you hold on to hope even if that is all you feel you have.
– Sara
dunno
I don’t want to seem rude but why is it you decided you want to live? I didn’t read it all its long Ive not slept for 24 hrs and am on phone not computer … I’ve asked my mum in a few different ways to help me kill myself and I’m in the process of asking my dad. Sounds like we had similar ‘wanting to have never existed’ childhood’s. Not really sure why for me but really wish I had never existed… even for the ‘good’ times
The Bipolar Project
I also ask myself why it is I decided I wanted to live. It’s so timely that you ask that, that I see your question today too.
Sometimes I don’t know the answer. I don’t constantly feel that life is worth living, but I want to. I decided to live because life can be amazing and brilliant and wonderful. Even if those times a short-lived, and even if the shit just keeps on coming (and trust me, I’m neck deep in shit right now), I want to get back there – to doing something meaningful to me, to feeling like life is worth living.
I stick around because there really is no other option. Death is death. That’s it. Life is temporary. We might as well do what we can to make it the best we can while we’re here. We don’t get another chance. This is it.
And our brains tell us things that we don’t need to know. Suicide isn’t a solution, but our unwell minds tell us it is. How can you trust your mind when it’s not well? I sure as hell don’t trust mine.
I don’t know your situation. I don’t know how bad it is. I don’t know what you are suffering and struggling with. I wish I could do something to help you because I know we can all be helped.
Instead of asking them to help you with suicide, ask for them to help you with life. Even if you can’t see a way out, someone, somewhere will be able to help you find one. Keep searching, and try not to buy into your mind’s bullshit. Because that’s all it is.
-Sara
Todd
Well , Im 47. On 12/12/2012 I had a stroke I was a carpenter separated from my wife I had been praying for death to take me I would wake nd be disappointed because I woke Manyvnights, I would sit outside and try to drink myself to death only to wake with a hellascious headache and lots of empty bottles, well; Im still here that stroke took the use f my left hand my wife left me and hasn’t spoken to me since the day of my stroke I miss her so much I still pray for death to take me but nothing yet. I’ve given p on God. god, to me ; is like an absentee parent all the doctors do is throw medication at me that does not work Im not going to hurt myself or anything but I have come up with some pretty elaborate ideas as to how to disappearcmyself
Danelle
I’ve been diagnosed with Bipolar II about 3 years ago. I’m turning 22 in a few months. I’ve always felt like the weird kid, the kid who is always on a different path and sees things differently than the rest of the kids my age. The amount of times I wanted to kill myself, makes me feel ashamed. I’ve been on a dip this year and I’ve tried, but clearly not hard enough.
I’ve read through your comments and I agree that you cannot trust your unhealthy brain, but sometimes I feel like death will at least be a temporary relief of how I feel and this thing following me. I really liked your story, because I know exactly how you’ve felt. I am also glad that you chose life, because it is those moments when you actually feel a bit “normal’ that things are definitely worth it.
Chan
I am 41. I have two kids, a husband and a nice home. I still want to die. It’s said you shouldn’t make these decisions when in the grips of a bad depressive swing. It’s said that you should wait a while because things will always get better. And while that last one is true it is also true that with me things always, ALWAYS, get bad again. There is never any doubt, when I’m feeling ok or good even that eventually (whether in a few days or a few weeks) I will feel like dying again. I know for a fact that even though my kids will be messed up if I kill myself they will be even more so if I stay. I watch as they get fucked up a little bit more each day I’m around. I’m killing them. I’m destroying their spirit a little bit at a time. How long will it be before they want to die?
Needless to say I wish I had a father who promised to help me kill myself if I still felt as bad at 40 as I did at 20.
Anonymous
I realize that my reasons might sound trivial to all.
But I’ve been wanting to die since my 7th grade. There are times when it looks like it’s going to get better, but it happens all over again. The problem is not my surroundings its me. I never change. I’m the same damn idiot who can not do even a single thing she wants to do. I have dreams but they disappear each time I’m faced with pain. I haven’t talked about it with my parents either especially cause they say that they wanna die for having given birth to me. I really think it’s useless to live on. After all I haven’t been able to achieve anything. I’m in college now and I know I have waited. I’m a useless being and I honestly believe that the world will be a better place to live if I didn’t exist. After all, all I do is suck the hard earned money of my parents.
Yvonne
Dear Sara.
I have struggled with depression for 40 + yrs. I still long for death… but….I long for a fulfilling life as well.
It never completely goes away for me. But as time goes on I realize how brief this life really is. In the midst of deep depression when I would want to take my life….I don’t know how I got through it. I can’t even remember… Maybe I was thinking of how much it would hurt my family. I think that is probably it.
It seems I was always comparing myself to others. NOT seeing my artistic potential as anything. Believing I was not intelligent ( again comparing! ) School was so hard for me. My siblings seemed to excel…my perspective. They did. But again success is not measured by how big a paycheck is… I believe it is measured by how much we can look at our life and realize growth in all phases/stages toward love of self and others. Just exactly the way we are, and exactly the way they are.
Really…. my belief now is…we are here to learn how to love ourselves completely the way we are….to forgive ourselves unconditionally…(very tough for me). And then do the same for EVERYONE ELSE. But first it has to be ourselves. That can take a long time. But you are right…keep seeking someone who can help you discover that hidden gem in you that you are not seeing. Maybe your ability to help others/ your ability to write/ your compassion toward animals/ your puzzle solving skills. We are often blind to our own potential to help in the world with our unique gifts, no matter how small they may seem. And when we are in deep depression we just can’t think of anything else but how awful life is… or we are…. So THANK YOU for your wisdom and unique and beautiful gift of starting us on that journey. Everyone needs to know how they are helping in some small way to make a difference. Mother Theresa said something to the affect; It is not the great things you do with little love, But the little things you do with Great Love that matter. ( not exactly her quote ) To see that everyone matters is key. EVERYONE! We only know our story…and sometimes we don’t even know ours!
But to compare ourselves to others. that is where my depression really took root. NO COMPARING! We are all unique and make this word complete. We are here to learn how to LOVE OURSELVES first. Then others.
Deepest gratitude to you for this website.
Sincerely,
Yvonne
Please feel free to edit.
EagertoGetWell
So late that I found this, over many times I had googled many a times of what to do with my life and read many similar blogs and articles, this one do stand out as it resonates with my experience. Thank You for caring to write that for others benefit. Also you are so lucky in that in a much earlier stage you could break off and think about rising and shining in life.
I have been living with this – I do not really know whether it is BP, but it is extreme mental pain – from the time I have memory as you felt. Its more than 30 years of active and valid memory with at least 10 years of solid childhood memory. Your post made me realized – yes there could have been those diamonds in my childhood too which now I dont bother even to try pulling up or relate to. I cannot blame on any misdiagnosis yet – there is nothing done yet, apart from me everybody sees me somewhat normal, other than some occasional weird behavior. I do cause mental agony to those who closely interact with me owing to my behavioral faults. The pattern I observed and have figured is matching known symptoms of severe clinical depression. The individuals, the family, the societies I had to face in this long ordeal never felt a need to sympathize with me so that I could open up on how I felt in my life. Maybe that is another reason I never got the proper help which would have helped me. Now I have a family, two young kids. one asked when I was having breakfast, why you look like crying. Couldnt control, I had to go to the bathroom to weep off. First time in my life somebody observed I was sad and that genuinely confused them. Maybe I am a master of the art of concealing my feelings, only my son could break through my shell in one of my weak moments.
I dont know how long I will put up the fight, but I will fight it as long as possible. Sadly getting help by admitting it on my own is not an option for me – I cannot think of it.
vicky
all alone depressed same thing everyday just lay in bed and then watch TV trying to starve myself to death I hate life just want to die nothing is interesting anymore everything is boring
Linda Tannehill
What do I do? I’m making my wonderful, loving famiily sick of me because I haven’t the courage to either fix myself or end my misery. I can’t see anyway out of this situation without my leaving this world behind. I have lost my new job because I’m terrified of my new boss – he scared the hell out of me, yelled at me everyday. I feel like a complete loser and maybe, just maybe everyone would be better off without me. I know this is just feeling sorry for myself but I would give everything in my life to have my boyfriend love me again. He was a good manbut he could never love me completely. I beg God everyday to let Greg love me again.
Trish
Hi Linda
I can hear that you are hurt, and in pain and terrified. Feeling hopeless and seeing no end in sight. So much of us feel that way when it comes to mental illness. I encourage you to reach out to your doctor or therapist to tell them how you feel. They will be able to help you. Or if that seems too much and you feel you’ll be judged, please call a crisis line where you can talk with someone anonymously. Please do that because you matter and you’re worth it.
There are a number of posts on this blog where people talk about how they come to terms with their bipolar and are able to live life again. I encourage you to read through some of them by clicking on the bipolar link at the top of this post. These people are just like you and me. You can do this. You deserve to feel well again and sometimes what that looks like is accepting yourself for who you are right now and finding the love and compassion I know you have within your to love yourself again.
You are not without courage to be able to handle this — you were courageous enough to leave this comment. And I care about you even though I don’t know you — I care about everyone on this post because I’ve been there and I want everyone to know, you included Linda, they deserve a good life.
Much love,
Trish
Nikki RIchardson
This hits home, I was diagnosed with manic depression when I was 19, I’m 29 now.. My mom tries but get mad and upset with me because I can’t stop feeling like me leaving is the right thing to do. My dad just seems to not care. I know he does in the long run, but don’t know how to handle me at my worst. I feel like I have no one to talk to, which lead me to this post. So thank you for showing that I am not the only one feeling like I have no hope. That the best possible thing for me to do is to “disappear” . Thank you for making me feel like I’m not alone….
Brad
I cannot describe to you how reading this has made me feel. I am currently at the bottom and have never felt that anyone has understood exactly what I feel until now. I just asked my parents to help me end my life today. This story feels as though you’ve been watching my life. I don’t see the surface. How did you do it? Im afraid I’ll never find any answers.
Trish
Brad, I’m not sure Sara is going to respond so I will leave you with a comment she made to another reader in 2012. Much Love, Trish
***********
I also ask myself why it is I decided I wanted to live. It’s so timely that you ask that, that I see your question today too.
Sometimes I don’t know the answer. I don’t constantly feel that life is worth living, but I want to. I decided to live because life can be amazing and brilliant and wonderful. Even if those times a short-lived, and even if the shit just keeps on coming (and trust me, I’m neck deep in shit right now), I want to get back there – to doing something meaningful to me, to feeling like life is worth living.
I stick around because there really is no other option. Death is death. That’s it. Life is temporary. We might as well do what we can to make it the best we can while we’re here. We don’t get another chance. This is it.
And our brains tell us things that we don’t need to know. Suicide isn’t a solution, but our unwell minds tell us it is. How can you trust your mind when it’s not well? I sure as hell don’t trust mine.
I don’t know your situation. I don’t know how bad it is. I don’t know what you are suffering and struggling with. I wish I could do something to help you because I know we can all be helped.
Instead of asking them to help you with suicide, ask for them to help you with life. Even if you can’t see a way out, someone, somewhere will be able to help you find one. Keep searching, and try not to buy into your mind’s bullshit. Because that’s all it is.
-Sara
Estelle
I am 45 years old living with depression since I can remember. I fought against it and tried to do everything “right” so that I can control this disease and have a productive fruit full life. I have a Masters Degree in Law, married and a thirteen year old son. The truth – I want to die because I cannot live with this disease anymore. It stole my life. I cannot work or function. I am just an empty shell. I cannot remember the last time that I laughed. I already tried to commit suicide twice – unfortunately it did not work. My second attempt was so horrific that I am too afraid to do it again. I am not afraid of dying but afraid if a failed attempt that could leave me brain damaged or with other problems. This disease will eventually beat you – I am proof of that. I don’t drink any alcohol or take drugs – I try to live healthy. Nothing helps – depression is a slow growing cancer that will kill you -,it first kills your spirit and then your soul. You can,go for therapy and drink the hundreds of medicine the doctors prescribe – eventually you will loose the battle – and your loved ones will suffer just as much because they will be powerless to do anything. I am not any more – I don’t know the thing that is my mind and soul. I am already dead – I just need someone to help me stop breathing. My child does not need this thing that is suppose to be a mother – he needs to be a child free from this suffering. Please someone – help me kill myself.
Trish
I’m not sure Sara will respond Estelle but I have taken pieces of her previous comments and included them below. The main theme in Sara’s message now is to hold on to hope.
*****
I hope that you have gained something from what I wrote – that there is hope, that we can feel better even if we feel or think we know that we never can and never will. These days, I just want to live. I believe we can all be healed, to some extent and I hope you believe that too. I wish you all the best.
I am so thankful that I never followed through on it, and to remind myself that what I “know” in one moment in time is so likely to be different from what I “know” in another moment. Like you, so many amazing things have happened to me since that time, and if I had taken my life I would not have been able to experience life as I do now.
I think there are so many people out there that have felt that suicide is their only option, and then lived and had their life turn around. Sometimes I feel that that story is buried amongst the despair of those who have not yet reached that place – and I truly believe we can all be healed, and that there is hope for all of us. If one person who feels hopeless can be given a shred of hope that they might be wrong, then I have done what I intended.
But I hope you hold on to hope anyway. All that you can do now is do the best that you can in the situation you are in. You can focus on being the person you want to be, you can expend your efforts on doing things that are meaningful and important to you, things that make you feel just a little bit better. You don’t have to move mountains as they say, you just have to do the little things. They build up in the long-run. They do help. You can build new relationships, and new love and you can enjoy the relationship with your son. It is never to late to find love and companionship. Be it romantic or otherwise. I urge you to give yourself another chance.
I hope you hold on to hope even if that is all you feel you have.