Suicide

Suicide. One simple word. One scary word. A word with so much meaning. This word evokes many thoughts and feelings from me. I just saw a video (click THIS LINK to view the video) that my aunt shared on Facebook. It gave me the cold chills and even brought tears to my eyes. The cop – he knew something was up with this man. And when he saw the man trying to end his life, he saved him! The cop did not handcuff the man or treat him horribly, he simply stood him up and wrapped his arm around him. I shared this video with the caption “There is good in the world.” And I do believe it. I often wonder where the good is in this crazy, sick world. I often feel bad for bringing my sweetest child in to such a scary place. I can only protect him from so much. It’s 1:08 AM right now, as I’m writing this. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the video.

There is always a time and a place to talk about suicide awareness.

It’s a touchy subject and therefore it’s not talked about often, but according to save.org, a person dies from suicide every 16.2 minutes. That’s quite a bit of people! Roughly 6 people an hour. If you don’t know what it’s like to literally be at rock bottom and not want to even wake up, to not want to see your friends and family, to not want to do something you love doing, to just “sleep” forever, then you may not understand what I am going to say. I’ll tell you this: I know what it’s like to feel all of those things I have listed. I know what it’s like to contemplate suicide. I know how it feels to be at the lowest point ever. I’ve been there. Several times. I try to come off as a happy person who loves life – and at this point in my life, I really don’t have to try. Because I am happy. Because I do love my life. Don’t get me wrong – I do still have those days when I don’t even want to crawl out of bed, but I see my sweet son smiling at me, pulling me out of bed to play and I’m instantly better.

In the 5th grade, I was put through some tough shit. More than anyone of any age should ever have to go through. My mom was going to put my baby brother up for adoption. She was going to leave the state. She was going to leave me. She was a meth addict. She went to jail. I was no longer an only child in the home that I grew up in {my dads}. I didn’t matter anymore. My dad didn’t care about me because he was too wrapped up in his wife and new baby. He even flat out told me to my face that he “would ALWAYS take her side because she was his wife.” That sentence is still extremely clear in my head. I can see me standing in the kitchen corner and can hear him tell me that. No one was there for me anymore. I had to fend for myself. That is where my depression and independence stemmed.

I have contemplated suicide more times that I can count. I’ve even came THIS CLOSE several times, but my thoughts would always lead back to my siblings (these thoughts were before I had Karsyn). I couldn’t do that to them. I am the oldest. They looked (and still do) up to me. What a horrible example I would be setting for them. I didn’t want them to have to go through that. I didn’t really care about what my parents thought because I was a teenager and they were somewhat part of the root of my unhappiness. The last time I seriously ever considered killing myself sticks out in my head so clearly. It’s almost like I am reliving that awful day. I was out of town with a friend and we got in to some serious trouble. Our parents were called and her parent’s said she had to stay there at the DT. My mom told the cops to let me drive home. So I had about a 2 hour drive. By myself. I cried the entire way home. I called my mom after I had got some gas and then I shut my phone off. I turned it on about every 30 minutes and each time I had several texts from my mom and Kade. Kade was worried and my mom was just mad. I shut my phone off and cried some more. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror and I looked like I had been beat. My eyes were bloodshot from crying so hard. My entire face was puffy and black from my running mascara. I’m sure that people passing me thought I was crazy – and to an extent, I was. I could hardly see the road through my tears. I wasn’t paying attention to the road at all because my thoughts were elsewhere. Thinking about how I was going to do it. I just couldn’t go home and face the wrath of my parents. I knew I had made a huge mistake and it wasn’t ever going to get better. My life was over. “I can get off the freeway and take a side road and no one will ever find me.” “I’ll go drive off a cliff.” “I will pull over and crouch down in front of my car and when I see a semi coming, I’ll run out in front of it,” kind of like the man in the video and the train.

Despite these horrible thoughts, I made it home safe. I pulled up and my mom was waiting for me outside in the driveway with her hands on her hips. She was mad, angry. I slowly got out of the car and sat down and cried. “You get to call your dad and tell him what you did,” she said. “Noooooooooo!” I cried. There is seriously nothing worse than your parents being disappointed in you. Nothing. This all happened in the summer and I was supposed to be at my mom’s house for a month. My month had just started – I was maybe half way in. I ended up going back to my dads after a few days and I was beyond depressed. I was grounded. To my room. (No surprise there! This was a daily thing for me.) No phone. No computer. No going outside. No nothing. I couldn’t even call my mom for hell sake! I couldn’t handle it anymore. I sat in my bedroom, on my bed, bawling my eyes out, and wrote a letter. I had my little brother take it upstairs to my parents. I basically said it was let me move in with my mom or bury me. I couldn’t handle anything anymore. That night, my dad had my step-mom get rid of all the pills in the house and he bought a safe for all of the guns shortly after. They never said anything to me about it though. I moved out the next day. It was one of the best and one of the worst days of my life. Good because my life completely turned around. 360 degrees. Worst because I had to leave my brother and sister behind. I can remember my brother asking me, “Why are you leaving me?” I was only going one town away, but that question still haunts me.

Times were still rough for a little while, until the end of the that year, but then, I decided to put everything behind me because I wasn’t going to live like that anymore. I promised myself to never get that low again. To never think those thoughts again. To never want to hurt myself. To reach out to someone if I need help.

Today, I am a mom. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am {almost!} a wife. I am strong. I have broad shoulders. I am confident. I am caring. I am sensitive. I get along with both my mom and dad. I am loved. I am cared for. And I am happy.

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If you are having suicidal thoughts, please reach out to someone! Feel free to email me! There are hotlines you can call {1-800-SUICIDE}. There are support groups you can join. Killing yourself is NOT taking the easy way out.

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3 thoughts on “Suicide

  1. Awe, Jourdan, how my heart hurts for you having to deal with such big issues all alone and at such a young age. I’m SO glad you found the strength to keep going. All of us who have been fortunate enough to spend any time with you would have missed out on getting to know the strong, amazing, giving, loving person that you are. Thanks for sharing your story. Love you!

  2. Pingback: Emotions – or Lack Of | Two Million Miles

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