Another year later. How is that possible? I feel like my life stopped on this day two years ago, but at the same time, it was only when this all began.
As many of you may know, today is National Suicide Awareness Day, but it’s also a day that holds a lot of value and meaning to me personally, because it’s also my own personal anniversary… for when I was admitted to the adolescent psych ward for suicide myself.
Two years ago, on September 10th, 2012, I thought I was fine. I was going to die, and I was okay with that. But I didn’t necessarily know the difference between if I wished to really kill myself or if I just wanted to find a way out; they were both the same to me. Through the most unforgettable following 17 days while hospitalized, I realized all I really needed was to escape my environment, and I found a comfortable "homey" feeling to being in the mental ward. I miss it. I really do—never had I felt more myself than I did there, and it was extremely hard to adapt back into the reality of society after being in such a fantasy for so long. Time doesn't exist when you are in there. Nothing beyond the hospital's walls seems to, really. God, I remember this day so clearly two years ago. The lunch I didn’t eat, the classes I couldn’t take notes in, the faculty member that walked me to the office, and the previous english teacher I ran to when I realized they were going to take me away. It’s hard to reflect without romanticizing and remember without realizing that maybe I’m not better at all. Think about it… sure, I hit my lowest point on this date, but it was all the times and endless nights after September 2012, after my eyes had been opened to a world of wistful souls that struggled with an immense amount of similar issues and those way out of my realm. I guess the biggest difference is now I am more aware of it.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see those people again, all the other patients I grew close to there. I don’t even know if some are still alive, or if they finally succeeded in their deepest, darkest desires of death. All I know is that they’ve affected me in ways I never thought possible. I live my life today with them in the back of my mind, in a safe corner of my heart, and secretly, I look for them in everyone, everywhere I go. Part of me hopes the universe allows them back into my life. I just need to know how they’re doing, and if the last two years have been as kind to them as I feel they have been to me. Yes, there were definitely new struggles and times where what I saw as “playing with fire” others labeled as an “attempt,” but I feel through it all, I am growing, and I am learning.
In fact, many great things have happened because of my hospital stay for suicide. The biggest being it brought me to my current (even though I left for college) therapist, the only one I sincerely liked and looked forward to seeing once a week. She’s literally so great. My hospitalization also helped me address things I didn’t even realized had names or were studied in the medical field. It helped me feel less crazy.
I got a tattoo the following summer. Music (like many) has proved very powerful in my life, one memory in particular being the boy and his guitar in the lobby, how another patient taught me how to play a song, and how we would sing in the hallways together.
I redefined myself as an artist and began exploring various mediums and focuses until I found what I loved most: emotion and words among abstract or realistic pieces. Here’s a few examples of what I mean by that:
I got some senior pictures taken too
and began the adventurous roller coaster of my senior year of high school, a place I both couldn’t wait to leave but also wish I never had to graduate. It’s a place I call home more than my own house. And right now, I’m searching for a home that I can go to. When you can’t go back and don’t know where you are currently, where do you have to turn to? I’m hoping that mine is somewhere in this city,
for after what feels like my entire life of dreaming of going here, I finally made it, (three times in one month actually) and still can’t wait to go back. Although my dream of going to college out here didn’t happen, it doesn’t mean grad school won’t or even just life after graduation. I am excited to where this dream will take me.
I went to prom, too. Twice, actually. Funny, the person I longed to spend the night with my junior year turned into the person that ruined my night senior year. A lot can change, I guess.
I graduated high school!! (a secret being, I made it by just a few hours, as I took a math final earlier that day).
I celebrated turning 19 years old in June. One last year of my teens, then onto a new decade of awaited adventures!!
I remember one reason I felt it would be okay to end my own life was because my youngest brother was only an infant at the time. I believed it would be okay because he wouldn’t remember me; I wouldn’t ruin his childhood or be the reason his parents couldn’t afford to give him all he deserves in life. I wanted the best for him, and I thought the best would be for me to leave. Well, two years later, he did a fantastic job at helping me leave for college. I really miss this guy, and only now realize that I hope he doesn’t forget me too much before Thanksgiving!
I traded this:
in for this:
and I went from my childhood bedroom of a million memories
to a new four walls of memories in the making.
and beyond what has already happened since then, the good and the bad, I also am starting to have goals again. One being the knowledge that there is so much out there that I have yet to see and experience. I want to see this world I tried so hard to leave and find reason as to why I should stay.
I know that everyone who follows me probably really hates me right now for making such a long post about something nobody else really cares about, but it’s important to me to get it out there; to say it out loud in a safe place, aka tumblr because… where else?
Basically, today is National Suicide Awareness Day, and it’s also the day I was admitted for suicide. Funny how the universe works like that.
