Post by MeBeLizzi on Apr 8, 2014 23:19:54 GMT -5
Well, I've come to notice that sharing my personal story actually can help another person find hope, or just understand that they're not alone. So, this is my story.
On October 23, 2012, I woke up to my mom crying, sitting next to me on my bed. She said
"Grandpa died this morning, at 5:03am".
I rolled over, ignoring her, denying the truth. Even though I had a sinking feeling in my gut, I had to try and pretend that it wasn't there, and that my grandpa was still alive. Then my phone rang. It was my cousin, my best friend, my sister, Caitlyn. I answered, wondering if she knew. She did. She was crying too. She asked me to sleep over. Mom said yes, because she had to deal with funeral details. So I went to my uncle's girlfriend Jenny's house, where Caitlyn and I share a bedroom, and we stayed with each other through the night. We cried, and laughed, remembered..and at some point, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
The day after, we went shopping with Jenny, to find an outfit for the funeral and viewing. When we were done shopping, Jenny took us back to her house, and Caitlyn and I just layed on our beds, listening to Watch Me Bleed by Scary Kids Scaring Kids, over and over again.
The day of the funeral has finally arrived. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to be here. I want to go back to sleep, and have my grandpa wake me up and let me know that this was just some cruel nightmare that the Devil decided to give me. But it wasn't.
Grandpa's best friend read a letter that Grandpa had written shortly before he died. He kept saying "I'm home".
At the cemetery, there are soldiers lined up, saluting the hearse. I grab Caitlyn's hand and lean into her, sobbing.
*2 weeks later*
Today is my 16th birthday. I should be happy, but I'm not. I just want to get this day over with.
*13 days later*
I took pills. A lot of them. I wanted to die.
*2 days later*
I'm awake, in a hospital, on heart monitors, with an I.V. in my left arm. Caitlyn is next to my bed on a cot. Mom is in a chair, reading her bible.
The doctor said I almost didn't live. I told her she should have left me be, so I didn't have to wake up and deal with this.
They sent me to a psychiatric hospital. I was there until January 27th. I went in on November 25th.
*Now*
It's been a little less than 7 months since I tried to die. Every day is a struggle, I have to remind myself every day, why it's better that I'm alive.
I've been diagnosed with Chronic Depression, Panic Anxiety, Social Anxiety, and Insomnia.
I have therapy at home 2 times a week, a representitive from the school district comes once a week, and I have a CLS (community living services) worker by my side 5/7 days of the week. I'm not allowed to have anything sharp. I must be supervised, while cooking. I have to leave the bathroom door open when I shower. I'm on constant lockdown.
Sundays are my favorite. I go to church with my Grandma, and come home feeling amazing.
Then Monday comes, and it's the beginning of my fight all over again.
I missed so much school, it seemed impossible to pass anything. I hadn't read the material in English class, but my mom bought me SparkNotes. I passed the class with a C. In Biology, thanks to my friend Forrest, I passed with a B+.
Sometimes I wake up, wishing I could just go back to sleep and ignore the constant pain. But since I've been home, I've improved a lot. I took all sharps out of my bedroom, to remove temptation of self harm. I removed all dark clothing I own, and bought basically an entirely new wardrobe. My CLS worker Amanda and I redecorated my bedroom, and turned it into a place that I can relax in, instead of reliving the memory of waking up that October morning.
I'm involved in a Guardian Angels Network, where I was assigned a person, and someone was assigned to me, to be each other's guardian angels. We encourage, and listen to each other, and just support each other through our recoveries.
I go to church 3 times a week, and every single day I get closer to God.
But I'm still here. I'm still living. I've got people on my side, and I'm a tough cookie
There is hope.
Note: If you, or someone you know, is experiencing suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety, or anything similar, please dont ignore it. Talk to someone, a friend, trusted adult, or even call the suicide hotline 1-800-SUICIDE.
On October 23, 2012, I woke up to my mom crying, sitting next to me on my bed. She said
"Grandpa died this morning, at 5:03am".
I rolled over, ignoring her, denying the truth. Even though I had a sinking feeling in my gut, I had to try and pretend that it wasn't there, and that my grandpa was still alive. Then my phone rang. It was my cousin, my best friend, my sister, Caitlyn. I answered, wondering if she knew. She did. She was crying too. She asked me to sleep over. Mom said yes, because she had to deal with funeral details. So I went to my uncle's girlfriend Jenny's house, where Caitlyn and I share a bedroom, and we stayed with each other through the night. We cried, and laughed, remembered..and at some point, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
The day after, we went shopping with Jenny, to find an outfit for the funeral and viewing. When we were done shopping, Jenny took us back to her house, and Caitlyn and I just layed on our beds, listening to Watch Me Bleed by Scary Kids Scaring Kids, over and over again.
The day of the funeral has finally arrived. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to be here. I want to go back to sleep, and have my grandpa wake me up and let me know that this was just some cruel nightmare that the Devil decided to give me. But it wasn't.
Grandpa's best friend read a letter that Grandpa had written shortly before he died. He kept saying "I'm home".
At the cemetery, there are soldiers lined up, saluting the hearse. I grab Caitlyn's hand and lean into her, sobbing.
*2 weeks later*
Today is my 16th birthday. I should be happy, but I'm not. I just want to get this day over with.
*13 days later*
I took pills. A lot of them. I wanted to die.
*2 days later*
I'm awake, in a hospital, on heart monitors, with an I.V. in my left arm. Caitlyn is next to my bed on a cot. Mom is in a chair, reading her bible.
The doctor said I almost didn't live. I told her she should have left me be, so I didn't have to wake up and deal with this.
They sent me to a psychiatric hospital. I was there until January 27th. I went in on November 25th.
*Now*
It's been a little less than 7 months since I tried to die. Every day is a struggle, I have to remind myself every day, why it's better that I'm alive.
I've been diagnosed with Chronic Depression, Panic Anxiety, Social Anxiety, and Insomnia.
I have therapy at home 2 times a week, a representitive from the school district comes once a week, and I have a CLS (community living services) worker by my side 5/7 days of the week. I'm not allowed to have anything sharp. I must be supervised, while cooking. I have to leave the bathroom door open when I shower. I'm on constant lockdown.
Sundays are my favorite. I go to church with my Grandma, and come home feeling amazing.
Then Monday comes, and it's the beginning of my fight all over again.
I missed so much school, it seemed impossible to pass anything. I hadn't read the material in English class, but my mom bought me SparkNotes. I passed the class with a C. In Biology, thanks to my friend Forrest, I passed with a B+.
Sometimes I wake up, wishing I could just go back to sleep and ignore the constant pain. But since I've been home, I've improved a lot. I took all sharps out of my bedroom, to remove temptation of self harm. I removed all dark clothing I own, and bought basically an entirely new wardrobe. My CLS worker Amanda and I redecorated my bedroom, and turned it into a place that I can relax in, instead of reliving the memory of waking up that October morning.
I'm involved in a Guardian Angels Network, where I was assigned a person, and someone was assigned to me, to be each other's guardian angels. We encourage, and listen to each other, and just support each other through our recoveries.
I go to church 3 times a week, and every single day I get closer to God.
But I'm still here. I'm still living. I've got people on my side, and I'm a tough cookie
There is hope.
Note: If you, or someone you know, is experiencing suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety, or anything similar, please dont ignore it. Talk to someone, a friend, trusted adult, or even call the suicide hotline 1-800-SUICIDE.