#EndTheStigma

A Look Through Suicidal Eyes

I recently had a very difficult conversation with my daughter. I'm not sure what brought it about, but out of the blue while we were outside on the porch, she asks me "Momma, how many times have you tried to die?"

Mind you, I had planned to have this conversation with her and her brother at some point, but you can imagine my shock at her question. My 10 year old daughter had just asked me about the toughest times of my life.

There was a good 2-3 minutes of awkward silence as I struggled with how to answer her.

Did I tell her the truth, like I did with everything else? Or did I tell her that she was still too young to understand?

I hung my head, afraid of my daughter's reaction when I gave my answer. 18 times. Yes, you read that right. I have tried to take my own life EIGHTEEN times since I first started on depression medication when I was in the 8th grade.

There was another awkward silence as she took in my answer and processed it. Then she responded. "How did you try to die? Why would you want to die?"

How do you react to being questioned by your young daughter about such a thing? It was obvious that she understood what suicide was, understood more than I thought she would. So I did the same thing I've always done with my children. I explained as best I could, being as open and honest with them as I can.

"My method of choice was overdosing..." I started. She interrupted me. "So you took a bunch of pills. What kind of pills?"

The conversation was taking a very uncomfortable turn, but it had been started, so there was no backing out now.

"Sleeping pills, depression pills, pain pills....pretty much whatever I had a lot of each time I felt like I couldn't keep on keeping on."

"Why?"

That's the first thing everyone wants to know, isn't it? Why. Why did you get to the point where you just couldn't take living anymore?

The answer? It varies person to person, situation to situation. In the end, though, each person that takes their own life is under so much pressure mentally that the twig just snaps.

But we aren't using this to talk about that part...not just yet anyway. That's later on.

To try to understand me a little better, I have some explaining to do. The onset of my depression was the night that I watched my older sister slowly die, watched paramedics trying to revive her, through a little peep hole in my blanket of a curtain. Just a few short days before Christmas.

I was never the same after that, and neither waslife.

If you have made it this far, thank you for sticking with me.

Let's take a break from my story for a bit. How are YOU doing today? What good happened in your life today? I'll share with you what good happened for me. I got so much support from so many people today about my idea to do what I'm doing right now, working on this suicide awareness disc. I went to visit my deceased finace's brother, where I got all the paperwork needed to finally get my car registered in my name after 7 months. And when I left from there, I had cradled in my arms my fiance's ashes.

May not seem like a lot to the average person. But let me tell you, for someone that has been stuck in a horrible depression phase since the suicide took place, it was a moment where a ray of joy was trying to shine through.

For those that understand where I'm coming from when I refer to it as horrible depression, you are the ones I'm reaching out to. I want you to know that you are not alone. I understand how physically painful it is, how drained..how empty it makes you feel...the feeling where you feel absolutely nothing but the desire to just give up on everything and make what I call the Life or Death decision.