For one last time || My story.

attempt?

“It is not seen as insane when a fighter, under an attack that will inevitably lead to his death, chooses to take his own life first. In fact, this act has been encouraged for centuries, and is accepted even now as an honourable reason to do the deed. How is it any different when you are under attack by your own mind?”

― Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls

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I have no clue how to begin this chapter but I think I should just rip the bandage off, like I did in the last chapter. 

So up until now you guys know alot about me and what I have been through, and half of my story… So what I am about to mention shouldn't come as a surprise to you, especially after the last chapter.

In this chapter, I will talk about the times I thought/planned to be dead.

Yes, sucide.

Like I said, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I had/have( or am) been suicidal.

So the first time I wanted to kill myself was when I was 12. Like I have mentioned before, age 12 was the beginning of the documentation of my trauma, so that's how I specifically remember the year. (Also I wanna say that at that age I had no social media accounts, and I don't know if netflix even existed back then, so the only means of entertainment I had was Indian television. So no, my suicidal thoughts were not inspired by social media as i didnt exist on social media back then. I clairedfied this because people these days claim that social media is the sole reason people these days have suicidal thoughts.)

In my diary I had mentioned a lot of things but I don't exactly have a date when I started to have conscious thoughts of killing myself. It just happened one day, I guess. 

I was sad, really sad all the time. My parents always favoured my brother. My grandparents and cousins adored him and they still do. I was beginning to realise I am the odd one, that I am different from others and my family and my cousins never failed to remind me that I did not fit with them. My relationship with my mother was not good. We used to constantly argue about everything. And obviously my relationship with my brother was bad. He always favoured my cousin sisters over me, always loved and favoured them more. He always used to be with them and never me. I don't think he ever even considered me as his sister, he always preferred my cousin sisters. This all started to get to me.

In march of 2012 my mother met with an accident. It was bad, she had a brain injury. It was the 10th march to be precise. I remember that day because it is my fathers birthday. We were going to a restaurant for dinner and that's when the accident took place. It was bad and also was the first time I saw my father break down while my mother was in ICU. He used to be this macho man who almost never expressed love towards the people he loved, or any emotion, a stone cold man, and seeing him break down was difficult. I was scared to lose my mother, I was scared shitless even though  our relationship those days was fragile and I was not a big fan of her and neither was she mine. 

After I came from the hospital the next day because children can stay there for a long time, I wrote about the 10th in my diary. I wrote that I was scared and I cried alot and so did my father but my brother who was 15 then didn't cry because he was being strong for my father when he also was just a kid at 15 years old. I wrote that maybe God gave me a punishment because I was a bad, ungrateful daughter. An abomination. I thought I was the cause of her accident. 

But god didn't take my mother away from my brother and I, as after some weeks my mother recovered. 

But when she came home it was different. She used to be mad at me for no reason at all sometimes. See, now at 21 almost 22 I know she was recovering from a brain injury and needed time to heal, but the 12 year old me didn't understand that. I didn't understand that her scolding me for no reason, her being angry at me, her yelling at me and even hitting me sometimes, was because she was healing from a serious injury and was in pain all the time and I was a viable outlet for her anger.