My Almost Death Day

The day I had decided I had enough of life and was ready to die started as any other day I’m sure.

I barely remember. From what I do remember I felt an immense pain in my chest and stomach. An unbearable sense of self hate, of loneliness and the distinct feeling that I couldn’t bare to go on another second.

Suicide, Depression, Recovery Breaking Free

I thought about just running. Running until I hit the first road with fast moving vehicles and running in front of one of them. No. That’s too much work. I need it to be quicker than that. Quick. Look around. What do you have here? A giant bag of pills. I don’t know how many is in here, at least 20-30 pills. Can pills even kill you? I’m about to find out. It’ll be fast and easy. I’ll go to sleep and that’ll be it.

I take them. I feel peace knowing it’s almost over.

I never thought I’d be the type to commit suicide. Admit it, you have thought a time or two that suicidal people are a “type” of people. I thought I would just push on for better days. I thought I would use my son as motivation to hang on in my darkest days.

The person I was dating at the moment would leave me for other women all the time. And so randomly too. We could be having a great day and suddenly she would just decide to leave me.

She’d leave me alone with no money, no drugs, no way to contact her. She’d just be gone and I couldn’t breathe without her.

The minutes felt like days, I was suffocating at the thought that i’d never see her again. Why didn’t she want me? Why wasn’t I enough? Why was she ALWAYS DOING THIS to me?!! Couldn’t she see it was tearing me apart and killing me?

I loved her so much I would have gladly laid down my life for her. When we were together she showed me love I never knew. But nothing would trigger her to leave me. Nothing would trigger the fights or the paranoia and accusations that would make her decide to leave me for someone else.

She came home with hickies all over her neck and just laughed when I saw them. And when she left again I knew I had to show her. I had to hurt her. If I die she’ll be sorry. That will teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.

My heart was so broken and I could not breathe.

The bits and pieces I remember after that are so foggy. I remember a friend pulling me into her car and riding around with her so she could watch me. In the drug community it is an unspoken rule: do not call police or an ambulance. Do not take anyone to the hospital unless they ask. So she was just doing what she could.

She took me back home and laid me on my mattress on the floor. I lived in a little efficiency type apartment that really was a series of storage sheds that someone turned into living areas. There were several people that lived along side each other. I threw up a lot, I didn’t want to but it just kept coming.

I remember opening my eyes to see her open my door every so often to make sure I was still alive. Sometimes she’d be in my face slapping me and moving my head around and yelling to wake up.

She consistently checked on me for a couple days until I completely regained consciousness. I never thanked her, and I don’t know how to contact her. I wish I could tell her that she showed me true kindness in those days. And in one of the weakest moments of my life.

Now looking back I realize that suicide is not the answer. It doesn’t teach anyone a lesson. If they cared in the first place these things wouldn’t be happening and killing yourself for someone’s love won’t effect their life but it will obviously end yours.

You will never get to move on from that. You’ll never know another love and to be treated right.

Think of all that I would have missed had I been successful in my attempt? Think of all the things I would have never accomplished. The best days of my life hadn’t even happened yet and I had no idea.

I know it’s hard to think outside of what’s happening in that exact moment but suicide is never the answer. There is someone who loves you. Someone who will hurt every single day without you.

My life felt like it had no meaning, and maybe at that exact point in time it didn’t. But for anyone that personally knows me can you see the value of my life now? Can you see all the good me being alive has caused? All the people I’ve helped, all the things I’ve done.

If my story had ended at that moment then all these deep dark secrets would never have been shared.If my story had ended at that moment then all these deep dark secrets would never have been shared. Click To Tweet

No one would have read about my struggles and been motivated from them.

My two youngest children wouldn’t exist.

My husband, who at the time I met him was practically homeless himself and couch hoping at different friends houses: what would have come of him? Who would he be today?

How would that have negatively impacted my brother? I’m the only person in the world that understands him and vice versa. No one knows our childhood traumas or our weird sense of humor the way we do. He’d have to go his whole life without the other half of him.

My oldest son never would have got to know the sober me. He’d always remember me as the mom that abandoned him and chose drugs and death over him. I’d never get the chance to redeem myself and make it up to him.

I’d never get to rewrite my story. You would never have got to know the good me. The real me.

And the same goes for you, you reading this. If you give up now, if you end it now, you don’t get to make a major comeback and rock the world by showing them exactly who you are and what you bring to the table.

Your story isn’t over, it’s just begun.

Suicide, Depression, Addiction, Recovery Breaking Free

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