Attention:
The following story contains excerpts from my memories which include suicidal ideations. These are my thoughts and feelings about events which may or may not be actual facts. My memories are filtered through the lens of mental illness and skewed by time. My hope in sharing my story is to help others avoid some of the mistakes I made and let them know I share their pain. Suicide is never the answer. If you are experiencing difficult thoughts call the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988.
Mental Illness
I have suffered from Bi-Polar disorder, with bouts of severe depression since I was a teenager. I have been stable and doing well mentally for the past four years because I found a regimen that is working great! How I got here is a long story.
When It All Began
I remember sitting in the bathtub holding a knife wondering if life was worth it. I was about 14 years old. My thoughts turned to my parents who were fighting more and more. I was being bullied at school by a neighbor kid. Outwardly nobody knew about my inner struggle. I was going to church and youth activities. I had a few close friends. I was getting good grades. Yet, I was always being told by my parents that I should do better in school, as well as, playing the violin and clarinet. I was getting A’s and B’s, but I felt that was not good enough in their eyes. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I felt I was not loved because I didn’t live up to their perfect standard. My shame turned into anger. I put the knife away after thinking that I’d stick around longer just to see who I could piss off.
When I was in 8th grade my wonderful English teacher introduced me to the book genre of Fantasy. The first series I read was by Anne McAffrey called Dragon Singer. She had dozens of books already written. I had found an escape from my harsh reality. Anytime I felt alone or lost or depressed, I’d dive into her books.
Who Knew I Was A Poet
At age 15, I was in Tirol, Germany on a trip with my fellow High School classmates. My classmates wanted to do something, and I didn’t want to go. I went for a long walk alone and wrote a poem about suicide.
Living a life of misery
Badly beaten & bruised
Being kicked around
No one caring
Things are coming from all sides
Trying to avoid them all
Failing & being laughed at
Nobody cares
Going to so-called “friends”
Only to feel cold steel
Why do people have so much pride?
Maybe if they thought of someone else,
They could prevent…
Suicide.
Rules, Rules, Rules
I remember in 10th grade, coming home to an empty house because both parents were working, I felt lost and alone. In good weather, I would ride my motorcycle along the maintenance roads above my house from Provo to Springville, where I would stop at 7 Eleven for a mandatory Big Gulp, of course, then ride back. This was good therapy. I was left alone with my thoughts for an hour or two, then I’d come back home and tackle my homework. I was taking several AP classes and struggling but was able to get A’s and B+’s from my efforts. Once I got my driver’s license, I’d go to the University Library just to get out of the house and away from the arguing. I’d stay at the library until it closed at midnight. My parents were very strict, only allowing me to go out with friends on the weekends. If I went out, I had to be back at the agreed-on time or call to get an extension, but in most cases, all I got was a lecture on why I should be home immediately. I felt like there were so many rules it was suffocating me. I had to get out! So, sometimes, I would go to the library to do my homework, then I’d leave to go out with friends or hang out at the movie theater where I worked.
My Escape From Reality
In 11th grade I was struggling with depression along with the unhappiness at home. A friend invited me to stay over for a few days, and house sit while his parents were gone for spring break. I was surprised that my parents agreed, so I didn’t stick around for them to change their minds. I was free for the weekend! My life was about to take an unexpected twist. An acquaintance brought over some Jack Daniels and Miller Lite Beer. Commercials and movies always made drinking appealing, and I wondered if this could be my escape from reality. I could finally get away from it all for a while. While drinking I felt happy and free. The next morning, however, the world was spinning, and I thought my stomach was going to revolt. I had the worst hangover of all time! The worst part was I had to make an appearance at church and be seen by my parents. Surprisingly, no one suspected, and I rushed back to my friend’s house to recover. This started a cycle of self-medicating to get through the pressure to get good grades, to attend church regularly, to be responsible, to ignore the fighting as best as I could, all while still feeling lost and helpless. Something was missing and I didn’t know what.
Thank goodness for anger that drove you to take action!
I honor your courage to share your journey. You are not alone and your shares remind others they are not alone either.
I guess I have been so busy over the years “doing” that I handbag taken time to sit and really talk with you. I had no idea!! Wow. Humbled at your ability to continue on! Thank you for still being here. You bless my family!!
Thank you for your support over the years. It’s really helped.
I hope you feel more connected to others after sharing your story 🙂 I know it can be hard to do sometimes. I think troubled pasts can be hard to talk about, especially in day to day conversation- but we each have our own version of them, and I feel more connected to you, seeing the full range of where you’ve been and what you’ve experienced.