Whenever I search my room, I find photos that bring back memories, homework that I gave up on to get merely five hours of sleep, or a bracelet I thought I lost. But on that morning in particular, all my 11-year-old sister found when she came to wake me up was an unconscious body, spilled water, and empty pill bottles.

Dearest Sister,

Mommy and Daddy parent well, so you’ll hear this from them just as you are from me: don’t sneak out of the house during the middle of the night. Although you may see no harm in wanting to have a fun time with your friends, intentionally, accidentally, or somewhere in between, something horrible could happen.

Dearest Sister,

If you disregard what I just told you, just remember the night that I decided to sneak out. Let us not forget my return through my bedroom window around 3 a.m. My landing and the choice words that followed were everything but graceful. After shutting and locking my window, I peeked around to see if everything was as I had left it. And everything was! I had thought to myself, “it is far beyond time to go to bed, get some rest.” I walked to my bedside and pulled back the covers so I could crawl in. I was startled to find body-like structures in my bed. Mommy and Daddy had decided to wake you and brother up to await my arrival. Sure enough, I was startled, to say the least.

I knew I was in the wrong, I was too tired to even explain myself. In fact, I had little to no explanation for why I had snuck out. Had I been in a clear state of mind, my true self, I would not have agreed to have gone. I had needed to take my medications much earlier that night, but time only dragged on between when I needed to take my medications and when I finally did.

Daddy sternly informed me, ‘We will talk in the morning.” Mommy, still frantic over not knowing where I had been, yelled, “You have lost my trust! I cannot believe you! What were you thinking!?” You all filed out of my room, followed by a door slam.

Dearest Sister,

When you do something worthy of discipline, understand that’s how one learns. Life is a constant cycle of trials, success, and failure. It is best to face failure head-on. Know that you are human. Mistakes are simply human nature. Although, as I laid in bed that night, I couldn’t handle the emotions that came along with failure.

Later on, I remembered I still needed to take my nighttime medications. I got out of bed and sat at my desk. I took my normal amount of pills, then sat and thought some more. And some more. And some more. I found myself in absolute fear of what the next day would bring, in agony over all the traumatic events that had occurred throughout life so far, and in anger over letting not only my family down, but myself down too

I started to re-open my pill bottles one by one. I read the caution labels. I thought about the potential outcomes if I took various amounts of each pill. I began to care less about what could happen, but more importantly I cared less about living altogether.

“What you’ve wanted is right in front of you. Here we are, an easy way out. Little to no pain if you take just enough of us. We are your plane ticket to heaven,” my pills taunted me.

I didn’t care where I was to be seated. I just wanted to be on that plane. On my way. Gone.

After taking more pills than my normal dosage, I had boarded that flight. With each handful of pills I consumed, the plane only elevated more and more. After emptying a few bottles, there was some turbulence in the flight. I had found myself on the floor. I was quickly falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Dearest Family,

For the following events that I do not recall and you cannot forget, I am reminded daily of the burdens that such visions must place on your soul. Being on the outside looking in, I cannot relate to the pain you felt, and still feel.

Dearest Sister,

When you found my unconscious body that following morning, I was thankfully not able to see the concern in your eyes. I couldn’t hear your young, dainty voice yell to mommy and daddy that something was wrong. They said you even used the word “overdose” when you tried to explain what was going on as they ran to you. I can’t imagine what was going through your precious head. At the age of 11, I had little knowledge of mental illness. I stand amazed by your ability to pick up on your surroundings. You put the pieces together, and at times, I wish you wouldn’t have been able to.

Dearest Sister,

If you can take anything from this, please learn from watching me go through this experience. This is not something that I ever want you to experience for yourself.

Dearest Father,

Again, I am selfishly thankful to have not been able to see the panic in your eyes as you carried me upstairs in your arms. Or the way you remained graceful as you set me fully clothed into the shower. You submerged me in ice cold water in attempt to wake me up at least somewhat.

Dearest Mother,

I am also selfishly thankful to have not heard your screams at the sight of my body not reacting to being submerged in the ice cold water. I was unable to hear you beg me to answer you when you begged, “Wake up! How many did you take!? Answer Me! How many pills did you take!?”

Dearest Mother,

Your eyes, hazed-over and strained, were the things I thankfully was able to see when my eyes finally opened, followed by the sights of IVs and nurses. Reality began to sink in. I had failed, and for the first time, I was thankful, relieved, and rejoicing over having failed. I will forever be thankful to have failed my suicide attempt.

Dearest Brother,

Your blank face was what I saw next as I peered over the bedside. Your confusion and hurt were extremely evident. I had to remind myself that your concerns, questions, and side comments weren't out of anger, but out of love.

Dearest Family,

I will never again take your love for granted.

Dearest Self,

When you find yourself in agony as your alarm signals you to wake-up bright and early, rather than sigh or groan, take it all in. You woke up another day. You have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a mind to think. Remember that you almost lost all of those daily functions that for so long you took for granted.