The night I died I didn’t feel it
Because nothing seemed to change
But now six months later
I can say nothing is the same
See I played my hand that night
Because everything felt so right
Broke down every wall,
Surrendered every defense,
Releasing myself to fall
I laid with the enemy
Had sex with the thought of him
Made love to his essence
And when he breathed fire into my body
I knew there was no turning back
I had sold my soul to the devil
And that night it was all over…
-Lexi Williams October 2015-
In honor of national suicide awareness month, I decided to sit down and get honest/ transparent with myself hoping that maybe helping myself would help someone else as well. I chose life.
For as long as I can remember I have been hurting. Everything is fine and frantically falling apart simultaneously. It is honestly the hardest feeling I have ever experienced because I can not truly find a way to express it to others. I’m not sure if it is so crippling because I don’t want to tell anyone-for fear of judgment or if I have just simply convinced myself that no one else will ever be capable of understanding. I grew up in a verbally, emotionally, sexually, and physically abusive home. For as long as I can remember, as far back as to like the first grade, my stepdad was talking down to me and my mother or putting his hands on the two of us. He was always apologizing and pulling my mother back in. So, on the outside we were this great blended family. My mother had this rule, that I think many families have “What happens in this house stays in this house!” So, of course this was initially are little closet secret. While most young girls were having sleep overs I was under a microscope, he always had to have his eyes on me. School became the only place I was allowed to venture to, even my grandparents house was out of the question at one point. The isolation really helped shape this angry person I now know as self. I was angry at my stepdad, at my mother, at anyone who I wanted to save me from what they didn’t know existed, at God and even at myself. One day in the sixth or seventh grade my stepdad was in my presence for the last time watching him leave I WAS RELIEVED!
That was until the dreams started, or the little voice in my head whispered “he was right you know?” The abuse from him, the outside source had stopped but I was now my biggest abuser. I didn’t know it at the time but I had internalized every action, every word every dirty look. That internalized abuse had become what I seen in myself so I unknowingly started inflicting those beliefs onto myself. “You’re not good enough.” “Your mom will leave you before she leaves me.” “No man will ever love you.” These are just a few of the many things I can vividly remember him saying to me over and over again, I thought of them constantly and they manifested into actions. I started looking for ways to “cope” smoking and drinking wasn’t my vice, the attention of older men started to be my fix. I tried to drown my pain and anger in sex, which was no healthier than becoming addicted or an alcoholic. Then when that stopped numbing the pain I realized I had never really healed and I wanted out. I wanted to sleep forever, to stop the thoughts and the constant pain in my chest…simply I wanted to die. I remember texting my closest friends “I love you” and calling my then boyfriend crying when he didn’t answer as usual. I took a bottle full of sleeping pills a whole prescription and downing them in handfuls. It was over, I would go to sleep and not wake up, hopefully it wouldn’t hurt. Except WAIT I didn’t actually want to die, I wanted someone to listen, to understand, to truly love me. It was too late… right?
Thankfully for me, he seen my missed call and voicemail then proceeded to call my mom who rushed me to the hospital. Two days, two cups of liquid charcoal, and many questions later I was home. I was angry at myself for not going all the way through with it at the time. Now, I can’t imagine if I would have ever did it. Since then I’ve played sports that I loved, made great friends, graduated high school and currently in college working towards a degree where I will be in the same position to help as the nurses that helped me that day. I have a wonderful supportive friend group that loves me. An amazing boyfriend who listens to every breakdown and holds me through every anxiety attack even if he doesn’t understand.
I’m definitely not the happiest person and it is a constant work in progress but I know now that there are people in my life who love me and would be devastated if they lost me especially by my own doing. Someone’s situation may be far worse than mine but that feeling of wanting to end it is one I know all too well. However, I swear that I’m proof that it gets better and there is definitely a reason to keep fighting and pushing. When you find it hold on to it like your life depends on it… because in some cases it does.
My best advice is to find real friends that love and support you, find someone to talk to when you’re at that lowest point. There are also so many other outside resources that are here if you feel like have no one.
The national suicide prevention hotline: 1-800-273-8255 The website offers an online chat here: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/