Yes, you read that right. Near the end of February, I tried to kill myself. Not realizing how much literature and media would be centered on suicidal ideation–for example, all the hype around 13 Reasons Why–I felt it was a sign and decided it was the right thing to do to come out and tell my truth about it.
Suicidal ideation is a lot more common than we think it to be. You might even be able to think of a time where you yourself thought about how much easier your life would be if you didn’t have to live one. Whether the thoughts were your own or you know someone who has had these thoughts, I cannot stress enough how important it is to take action as soon as you know.
There are two parts to taking action against suicidal thoughts. There is no right order in my opinion, but it is very important to receive support from someone, anyone you feel comfortable with. You can’t go through it alone.
The other part of taking action is realizing and admitting to yourself that you need help. That means finding a doctor. That means letting whoever you choose to support you actually take care of you. I can’t thank the people who love me enough for breaking down walls to make sure I was okay.
I thought I had to hide from them because I didn’t know how to tell anyone that I wanted and tried to kill myself. When they found out about it, each of them encouraged me and filled me with positive things and as much as I thought that would help–it didn’t.
Sure… I’m smart, beautiful, driven, and a mom – but I still wanted to die.
The amount of stress I was trying to endure by myself became too much to mask. I had been struggling through it, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t have the strength to mask that struggle anymore.
That’s what caused the breakdown. I didn’t know how to let anyone down easily. I didn’t know how to explain to anyone when or why I began to feel like this. I didn’t understand how even after being a mom–and a good mom, at that–I still wanted to just give up.
In all honesty, I was so lost in my thoughts that I couldn’t even reason with myself. All I knew was that I felt completely dead inside and I wanted it to stop. Thankfully my plan was foiled.
**I’d like to take a moment of silence for those whose stories didn’t end the same.**
After convincing the lady on the other end of the crisis-hotline number I called that I wasn’t playing around, I found my way to my mom’s and together we went to the hospital. From there you can only imagine the journey, medications, and self-isolation I endured.
I’ve learned now though that it is all a part of my healing process. Notice the word is; depression and anxiety are diseases that can be controlled as best you can, but they don’t just go away.
In other words, at least for me, some days are really good and then there are other days when I crawl under a rock, turn my phone off, and disappear. It’s necessary.
One thing that has shocked me the most since being diagnosed with bipolar II disorder is how much support and understanding I have in my close friends and family. I swear there isn’t much I could do to get rid of them. Learning that they didn’t love me only on my good days was probably the most important step towards my healing.
Now, I’m taking everything one day at a time. I’m taking my medicine (instead of listening to the people who say you shouldn’t–there’s a lot of them) and learning more about myself and the illness. All in hopes to never find peace in the effort to take my own life again. Surely enough, I’m finally starting to feel alive again.
This article was originally written by Editor-in-chief of Prime Fifty-Two, Isis Nezbeth, and can also be seen on Thought Catalog.