I realized I was the unfortunate victim to a chemical imbalance many years ago at the age of thirteen. It was the only plausible explanation for why I felt like never leaving my bed and subsequently wanting to die. I lived a life that on the outside looking in was apples and sugar. Something nice and sweet. Sadly, the reality was that I was drowning. Drowning in pain, overlooked abuse, and overall the victim of hapless circumstances. So yes, this guy, Cam, has struggled with thoughts of suicide. Here's a few situations I can remember wanting to kill myself, mind you there is probably a dozen more, but here is my story. Unfiltered, unappreciated, but truer than the fact that the world is in the Milky Way.

The first time I remember wanting to kill myself was after a particularly grotesque fight with my mom that ended in her saying God awful things toward me and an angry Facebook post. I had a traumatic childhood that will probably be discussed in a later post so keep watch of me. Anyway, I was punished by being sent to my room amidst slurs about how awful of a son I was, how troubled I was, and that I was going to turn out just like my dad. At thirteen years old what my mom, my protector, my go to said had to be true...right? I went into my room and remember begging God too take me. A thirteen year old, troubled soul. "Take me away God. This place is awful and I am tired of being here." I prayed relentlessly yet heard no reply...figures. Eventually the tears stopped, I was a little less upset, and I was better. I did not want to die anymore. I guess something kicked my seratonin into overdrive, but my journey was not over. Oh no, for it had just begun.

The next time was a couple months later. I was once again the helpless prey of other's insecurities. This time outside my house. I was going to summer school at my future high school. My mom promised it was so I could make friends, but in reality all it made was me want to die. This time seriously. People didn't ask me my name, where I was from, or even why I was there. The first question out of their mouths was "Are you gay?" Now to a prepubescent teen this hit me like a block of rocks. Hell it hit me like a freight train. I responded No, but as with every other case where someone says "No" that means yes. Thanks Obama. So I became labeled as the gay guy. My potential "friends" made fun of me. My mom said it would get better, my doctor put me on a higher antidepressant, and the school, well, they blamed me. "What did you do to provoke it?" God bless the uneducated rural Spokane Middle School leadership. So every night I would go home after a day of a new train car running me over. But one night I knew that I had undergone enough. I wrote a note to my family, to my bullies, and to God asking for forgiveness. That's when I took about 20 ibuprofen pills, an extra few doses of my antidepressant and I was gone. On my way to my eternal home I assumed, but as you may have guessed that next day I woke up, sick to my stomach, but awake. As with everything else in my life I wasn't even able to kill myself right. I was literally the biggest loser. What kind of person can't kill themselves like holy hell. So I served my time at Spokane Middle School and eventually my sentence was over and I was released back into society.

Year fourteen was easy for me, I soaked in my last moments at my private school and hesitantly embraced switching schools and going to high school with the same people that bullied me. Luckily, the transition was smooth, I was well liked and became a known face. No hate, no drama, I was finally able to start again... was my chemical imbalance healing? far from.

Year fifteen of my life saw a very dramatic change in appearance, I dropped thirty pounds in the course of three weeks. While I was labeled a medical mystery for twenty-four hours, sitting in a hospital bed on Thanksgiving Day, I knew what happened. I was again a victim. This time to myself. See I had stopped eating, I developed an eating disorder. I would eat here and there but not enough for a growing teenage boy. I landed myself and my family in the PICU one day before Thanksgiving. The turkey was still defrosting in the sink, the table was set, but no one was home because we all thought it was going to be my last Thanksgiving. This time I almost killed myself, I cannot blame anyone but myself. I have never felt closer to death's door than laying in a hospital bed-frail, cold, and tired-waiting for a diagnosis. Waiting for the news that I had destroyed my immune system, or that my kidneys and liver were failing from the decision I had made almost a year and a half before to take the pills. Eventually I was released from the hospital, another unsuccessful attempt to take my own life marked in my head.

Fast forward three years to my senior year. That's the next time I remember trying to end my own suffering. I know I had to have thought about it a couple times between freshman and senior year, but there was of course no end result except failure. It was October 20th, I had received the news my grandmother was found dead in her home. She was my best friend, my go to, my confidant (you can read about this in the post "Dear Death"). I felt alone again, completely hopeless, my counselor called my grieving mother to inform her that the authorities at Spokane High School thought I was going to kill myself, but what she did not know...what only one other person knew before writing this is that I had taken the narcotic pills I had been prescribed for my wisdom teeth surgery. The total was over six, ten milligram tablets. I plopped them right in my mouth, swallowed them and waited for the slow ease of death to wash over me so I could see my grandma again; however, keeping in line with past attempts, it failed, miserably I might add, for I had taken well over enough. I guess I was not meant to be with grandma Toni just yet. Once I realized I was not going to die I reached out to the Suicide Hotline (1-800-273-8255). I was in a short correspondence with them and then became paranoid that they were tracking my location and going to send me into the looney bin so I hung-up and erased any record of the call.

I am almost done trust me. You did before when you read "you need to hear this" right? Two more paragraphs and it's done.

The last time I remember trying to kill myself was March 2018. I had been caught at a party, stripped of my identity, removed from every officer position I held, and looked down upon by teachers, faculty, and other peers...thank you small town Missouri. I was devastated, no one talked to me, the teachers just shook their heads. My parents saw me as a disappointment again. I became the main character and reason for my own demise. Once that first Monday back was over, I went home, grabbed some trash bags (I am sure you can see where this is going), and wrapped them around my head 1 minute ticked by, then 2, the bag had deflated into my mouth, 3, the taste of plastic resonates still, 4, and then a knock. I ripped the bags out of my mouth, hid them under my pillow, and waited as the door slowly opened. In walks my mom, my quite literal guardian angel, she sat down on my bed and through my sobbing told me that I have to pick myself up. I have to go to school, hold my head high, and show everyone that I am not a product of my one bad decision. I am made up of flaws like everyone else, but I will not let that destroy everything positive I did as a student and leader at Spokane.

After that conversation is when I finally came to my senses. The chemical imbalance suddenly disappeared and I realized that if she had knocked two minutes later she might have found me dead. I could not put that on my mom. Okay, what about if it was my sisters? I could not scar them for life, my lifeless face being the last thing they saw of me. I just could not allow them to find me because that would destroy them. It would destroy everyone. So here is some truths to take away.

Cam is loved by many. People want Cam to be around. Sure he might be loud, annoying, and sometimes not a nice person, but he is unique and full of life and advice. People love me.

Same goes for you. If you read this far then I know you need this right now. I will be the first to say, you are loved, you are wanted, you are more than what those who despise you say, you are needed.

Keep fighting on. Become the best version of yourself because you are exactly what we need to be the face of change, the face of tomorrow.