Content warning: The topic of this article is depression and suicide awareness.
As the month of September draws to an end, so does National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. Throughout the content of this article, I would like to personally tell my story on this topic. This is an event in my life that only select few know about. For so long I felt that if I told this story or spoke of this event, it would make others uncomfortable or treat me differently. As I get older I realize that I really don’t care. When I was in the middle of my battle with depression and suicide, I wished so badly that I felt like someone understood or cared. So with this article I hope to show, even one person, that I understand, I care, and I’m here for you!
My sophomore year of high school all seems like a haze except for knowing that I was miserable for the most part of it. I remember crying every day, and sometimes I had no idea why I was crying. I was constantly upset, depressed, and had no will to do anything. I voluntarily went to therapy, which at the time I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, and it helped a little. I later realized I was only putting up an act. I was acting like I was better, like I was happy. Someone would ask me, “Why are you so upset? or “Why are you crying?”, and honestly, I had no answer to give. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how to fix it. I only knew I felt like I was trapped in a corner with no way out.
In September of my sophomore year, I tried to take my life. I honestly didn’t even know why I did. I didn’t know why I felt like suicide was the only way to end the pain. I didn’t know why I had even gotten to the point where suicide was an option. I felt like I was trapped inside of a body and mind that I could no longer control. I slightly remember when the nurse at the hospital asked me why, and I replied, “I just wanted to die.” At that time in my life, at the exact moment, a truer statement had never been spoken. I was finally being honest with myself and everyone else around me.
This is lowest point I had ever reached in my life. In exchange for going to a rehab center, I was put in mandatory therapy. I had doctors appointments and mental checkups every so often. Not too long after, my doctor at the time discovered that I have PMDD, or Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. This disorder caused a chemical imbalance in my body which led to the depression, and eventually the attempted suicide. Because my body didn’t make some hormones that were needed, I had reached a point where suicide felt like my only option. The next step was fixing this imbalance. I was put on a medicine that helped counteract the imbalance. Which at the time and even a while after that, only made me feel more like a freak. I felt as if I could never be truly happy because I would always be dependent on the medicine. I was angry that I had to have this problem. It has taken me a long time to realize that the medicine does not make me happy. The medicine only fixes an imbalance. My happiness comes from me. Because every day I wake up and choose to be happy. Because I strive to be a better, kinder, and Godlier person every single day.
Through the therapy, the support of my family and friends, and putting my faith and trust in God, I was able to overcome my battle with depression and suicidal thoughts. My life is now rooted in happiness and love. In that upcoming June of my sophomore year, God showed me a passion I never knew I could have. Through missions, I know I have a purpose on this Earth. I know I can do good and help others.
Romans 15:13 “May the God of hope fill you with all the joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Suicide Prevention Lifeline phone number: 1-800-273-TALK.
