Suicide Attempt Survivors Share

"A VOICE AT THE TABLE"

Listen to these attempt survivors and learn what changes the Suicide Prevention Community has to make to help  SAVE MORE LIVES! We can learn how to  Prevent  Suicide by listening to those who have survived an attempt and found HOPE! How and what helped them become hopeful, feel supported, understood and able to find their road to a hopeful future.   

Why Suicide?

Four adults in my life have attempted suicide - all parents with young kids. One dad succeeded and left behind a 7 year old daughter whose life is irrevocably marred by his decision. I've struggled to understand what sort of pain could be so intense that it could make you chose to die rather than endure, if only for the sake of your child. Because his daughter is my daughter's BFF, I get really angry at him, even years later. This CNN article gave me a small glimpse into what his pain may have been like and why he may have felt he had no escape. It moved me a little closer to "forgiveness." How does it speak to you? I am a mother, a wife, a college graduate, an executive, a marathon runner and a member of the church choir. And I am mentally ill. I attempted suicide in November 2012 and was hospitalized. I have not attempted to kill myself since, nor did I previously. But that's not because I don't have the urge to. I used to be that person who judged those who took "the easy way out." I felt particular disdain for adults who would do this, leaving children and loved ones behind. For two years, I managed to swallow my self-hatred and continue to trudge through life unhappy and sick, having no clue this was not normal. It had been a rough and challenging time. Work was overwhelming. I had just changed jobs and moved myself and my two girls to a new town. My relationship was ending. I was tired and lonely. I knew I needed to get help, but in my mind, the repercussions for doing so were so great, I couldn't risk giving any clues to anyone that I was in crisis. I was afraid I would lose my job, career, my children, and that my family would turn their back on me for being "crazy." I started to hope and pray for a fatal disease or accident that would take me soon. I didn't care how physically painful it would be, I just needed to go. If a car wreck or cancer took me, my children would get sympathy, and my parents would have help and a reason to remember me fondly. They wouldn't have anger, shame and stigma hanging over their heads for the rest of their lives. I tried to talk myself out of wanting to die. "Think of the positives," I would tell myself, over and over. "Be thankful for what you have." "Look at the angelic faces of your children who love you and need you here." I started running marathons and boxing to keep me busy, but it didn't help ... at least not for long. That last day of November, I had the sudden realization that every breath was more painful than the last. I was in the darkest place I have ever been, and I saw no way out. The pain had to stop. I'd been through some painful moments, but nothing was comparable. I survived skin cancer as a pre-teen and live with lupus. I gave birth without pain medicine or epidurals. I've been hurt emotionally and mentally and never felt anything like this before. So when my children left for school for the day, I called in sick to work then said what I thought would be a final prayer for peace. I had thought about killing myself a million times before. I had researched it extensively. I knew what would be most effective, the least painful. Alone in my kitchen that morning, the plan quickly began to take shape. The end was in sight. Then, my cell phone rang. "You are my Sunshine" filled the room -- my daughter's ring tone. The zombie in me broke. I managed to call for help, and began to lose consciousness as the ambulance arrived. I intentionally don't go into the details of my attempt because I find it to be triggering to others who may be on the brink of an attempt. It has been shown to be dangerous to read or learn of others' methods. Also, I do not want to be disrespectful to my family by sharing the literal details.