Suicide. To some, it's a dirty word that means you are sent straight to hell. To others, it's something that hits close to home, whether it's the loss of a family member or friend.
And for a small number of us, it is a reality that almost became our own.
(note, the girl I am referring to will be referred to as Alexia in all blog posts to protect identities) For years I refused to talk about my dark thoughts at the age of 13. After ten years of emotional abuse resulting in PTSD (which I am now beginning treatment for with EMDR), I thought there was no other choice. I was ashamed of my thoughts, but I would go to bed, dreaming of my funeral with a smile on my face. It scared me. I was afraid of myself. Without *Alexia, the girl who abused me, I had no friends. I couldn't explain what happened to me because huge chucks of my childhood were and are still missing that I've supressed. My physical health has also been affected, since those significant years of development were interrupted with extreme stress and pain. I could never figure out how to go about taking my life though, and in the end, my perfectionist nature prevented me from trying anything for fear that I would survive a botched attempt.
If my mother had not intervened, I would not be alive today. If she had not gotten me into therapy, I wouldn't have been able to give the eulogy at her funeral four years later. But most importantly, I wouldn't have been able to turn to her a couple weeks before she died and say to her, "Mommy, for the first time in my life, I'm truly happy."
So no, there is no way I can believe that God would damn someone with a mental illness to hell. People, unless you've been there, you cannot understand. I hate hearing people talk about it; their conclusions they jump to make me sick to my stomach.
"It's the most selfish thing a person can do."
"Didn't she think about how it would affect her family?"
"It's a cowardly move."
These statements make me quiver with anger. Selfish?! A person, who is so deep in despair that she sees no light at the end of the tunnel, selfish and a coward? When I hear about a young person taking his/her own life, it shakes me to my core. Depression is one of the hardest battles in a person's life. Parents struggle how to explain it to their child. Tell him, "She was sick and she died." THAT'S THE TRUTH. There is no blame except for the chemicals in her brain. No finger to point.
Luckily for me, I never made that final jump. I have so much to say and so many books I wish to write that taking my life would have been the wrong choice for me, and because of my mommy, I was able to pull myself up out of my pit of darkness and see the light. When I look outside and see the sunshine now, I see my future.