Thoughts on Suicide
On one of the forums I participate on, the subject of suicide has come up in recent days. I do not like discussing the matter, but not because I'm some insensitive b$#^@. I don't like discussing it because of things in my past, both distant and recent, that I have never shared with anyone, or have only briefly mentioned.
Something that most of my friends and those that know me do not know about, that I'm admitting to for the first time, is that when I was 11, I wanted to take my own life. I was miserable, I felt I had nobody I could turn to, and that I was not worth anything. I do not know why I felt that way, but if I had to hedge a guess, I suspect that it may have had something to do with the fact that I was among the first of my peers to start having "ladies days". I know it sounds like a bit of a cop-out, but as I said, I do not know exactly why I felt the way I did at the time. I also do not know why I decided not to go ahead with taking my life.
In high school, I began to feel that way again after several years of not feeling that way. Though this time, it was more because I felt I would never be "good enough" for people, since my younger brother was the better student, and I felt nobody understood that I am just as smart as he is, but in a very different way. What stopped me from going through with things this time was the knowledge that I had several friends who I cared deeply for and the knowledge that they would be not only devastated, but disappointed in me.
I have had moments since high school where I have mused about doing the deed, but I've come to realize, I like living too much, and there's so much out there that I haven't seen yet. I'm not yet ready to go to the great beyond, and most definitely not by my own hand. I have so much that I want to do yet, and I do not intend to screw myself out of doing what I want to do.
That is only part of the reason why I do not like to talk about suicide. The other part, one that is a bit more well-known, is that I lost someone I had only recently begun to think of as a dear friend, because he could not see any other way out. He was someone I graduated high school with, and like me, he hit a rough patch of life and was a bit stagnant for awhile. He had started to turn his life around when he ended his life back in 2008.
It's only been a little over two years, but I still find it hard to talk about. He and I may not have gotten along when we were younger, but I wanted to reach out and help him, not because I wanted anything in return, but because I cared. If I had known that he was going down the path he was on, I would have offered help, even if all I could do was be available on the phone and give him someone who would listen. I had planned on talking to him while I was on summer break from Job Corps, but never made the time to actually look up his number, and call him. This is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
I do not like talking about suicide, not because I am an insensitive b$^#@, but because it hurts to dig into old wounds and to think about things that could have been, but aren't because someone chose to end their journey prematurely.
Something that most of my friends and those that know me do not know about, that I'm admitting to for the first time, is that when I was 11, I wanted to take my own life. I was miserable, I felt I had nobody I could turn to, and that I was not worth anything. I do not know why I felt that way, but if I had to hedge a guess, I suspect that it may have had something to do with the fact that I was among the first of my peers to start having "ladies days". I know it sounds like a bit of a cop-out, but as I said, I do not know exactly why I felt the way I did at the time. I also do not know why I decided not to go ahead with taking my life.
In high school, I began to feel that way again after several years of not feeling that way. Though this time, it was more because I felt I would never be "good enough" for people, since my younger brother was the better student, and I felt nobody understood that I am just as smart as he is, but in a very different way. What stopped me from going through with things this time was the knowledge that I had several friends who I cared deeply for and the knowledge that they would be not only devastated, but disappointed in me.
I have had moments since high school where I have mused about doing the deed, but I've come to realize, I like living too much, and there's so much out there that I haven't seen yet. I'm not yet ready to go to the great beyond, and most definitely not by my own hand. I have so much that I want to do yet, and I do not intend to screw myself out of doing what I want to do.
That is only part of the reason why I do not like to talk about suicide. The other part, one that is a bit more well-known, is that I lost someone I had only recently begun to think of as a dear friend, because he could not see any other way out. He was someone I graduated high school with, and like me, he hit a rough patch of life and was a bit stagnant for awhile. He had started to turn his life around when he ended his life back in 2008.
It's only been a little over two years, but I still find it hard to talk about. He and I may not have gotten along when we were younger, but I wanted to reach out and help him, not because I wanted anything in return, but because I cared. If I had known that he was going down the path he was on, I would have offered help, even if all I could do was be available on the phone and give him someone who would listen. I had planned on talking to him while I was on summer break from Job Corps, but never made the time to actually look up his number, and call him. This is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
I do not like talking about suicide, not because I am an insensitive b$^#@, but because it hurts to dig into old wounds and to think about things that could have been, but aren't because someone chose to end their journey prematurely.
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