Going back in time. Nearly 14 years back to late 2010 and early 2011 This is part 1 (part 2 is coming) of the diary from my sophomore year. Most of the attempts were pretty minor. I thought things were bad then; that things couldn’t get any worse. Yet what I went through after that in the years to come was far worse than I could have ever imagined, and much more serious, as my previous posts describe. This is as it was originally written. Minor grammar edits, a couple edits for clarification, and a few names are changed. Other than that it’s as raw as it was when it was written, hence it’s not the most eloquent writing or written as well as my other posts. I was just 15. If it seems like it expresses the same thing over and over, it’s because that’s how it was day in and day out. Feel free to leave comments if you have questions. Just please be respectful. This is the first time I’ve shared this.
For your reference to the parts in Spanish: voy=I’m going, a=to, pero=but vivir=to live, morir=to die, matar(me)=to kill(myself), disparar(me)=to shoot(myself), tal vez=Maybe, sé=i know, tengo que=I have to. Durante el Recesco=during break. No puedo=I can’t That should cover most of it.
Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that this is told from the perspective of someone who is mentally ill. My parents were not bad parents. They’re not perfect. No one is. And they didn’t understand what was going on. As is the case with a lot of people. That’s why education and relating experiences is so important.
Wednesday 12/15/10
Yesterday was terrible, but today is a little bit better. Yesterday, I missed my entire seventh hour. I was in the office calling the hotline. It took them an hour just to bring me back to neutral. I was really going to kill myself, before I called. Ms. Johnson understands; she used to work there herself, but they almost didn’t talk me out of it.
Fortunately today, I feel little bit better. I’m riding tomorrow, so that helps – I’m not going to kill myself today, or tomorrow. I know I need to get help, though. I have trichotillomania, but my parents won’t take me seriously. They’re focused on this one disorder, which therapy will not help, but ignoring the other three, which will be benefited by therapy. It took me a while, but I decided just to concentrate on getting help – before it’s too late – and not worrying about my riding lessons. That was a very hard decision to make. Now I have a plan in place to get help. I’m going to go to guidance and tell her what’s going on. I might set up a meeting with her, my parents and I. If that doesn’t work, I’ll go to the hotline. I’ll have them talk to my parents. If that too fails, I’ll go back to the hotline the next time i’m suicidal. The last resort is to call the hospital, or 911 and tell them that I want to kill myself and I need help, and that my parents won’t get it for me. I hope I don’t have to go that far, though.
One of the other problems that recently started is that I sniff white out. I haven’t today yet, though I think it makes me high. Whenever I want to cut, or I feel frustrated or angry, and I sniff it, I feel better, and the feeling that was making me want to cut goes away, and when I sit up I feel sort of lightheaded. I know I shouldn’t do that but I don’t really want to stop. I don’t think I’m addicted to it – at least not yet, but I don’t know if it will stay that way.
The other problem I have is school and Ms. Barrett. Ms. Barrett is always fussing, and yelling at the kids. I have a low self-esteem already, but when I come out of her class, it’s lower. She talks to us like everyone’s stupid, calling us dimwits, and stupid, and dumb, and she curses a lot. I take the exam on Friday. It’s worth 300 points, and is almost 200 questions. I know I’m going to fail. A lot of the material on the Study guide was not even reviewed in class. She doesn’t even really teach. She talks about things and asks questions about things that aren’t even in The book. I just know I’m going to fail biology. I want to see if I can switch out for the second semester. Another thing: One day when I was suicidal, (I was going to do either during her class, or during seventh hour) I asked her if I could go to the office, and she wouldn’t let me. She said that I wasn’t going to do it, there wasn’t a gun in here. That made me want to do it even more. (I missed seventh hour to call the hotline where I was successfully talked out of it) I cannot take this class along with everything else. I have to switch out before this class literally kills me.
I can’t stop pulling my hair out either. I’ve tried everything. Polishing my nails, working lanyards, squeezing needed erasers, snapping rubber bands on my wrist, splitting hairs and/or breaking them….Nothing works. And then there’s one symptom I’ve only been able to admit to two people – that when I pull my hair out, I rub it against my lips – that one thing that defines trichotillomania. But I cannot admit that to my parents – I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to tell them anything for fear they will pull me out of school, or follow me around at school or take my riding lessons away.
12/16/10
My parents sort of found out about Tuesday. My mom saw my attendance on parent access, which showed a tardy for seventh hour by 42 minutes. I had time to think about what I was going to tell my mom, though, so I told her that I went to guidance. She asked me what I told her, so I just said what happened last week when I went to guidance to tell her my decision about me deciding to focus on getting help and not worrying about my riding lessons. She seems to think that I got help, or that I don’t need it, but I know I do.
Today’s been pretty good so far though. I felt good, and I only sniffed white out once today, and not long either. I also went to guidance during lunch today for the 31st time this year. I asked her what she thought of me calling my parents and telling them when I was suicidal instead of having them find out through someone else. She said that I could call her and tell her how I feel, and then give her the options of talking to me, coming to the school, or allowing me to call the hotline. I also asked her if I could possibly switch out of Ms. Barrett’s class and get a different teacher. She said I could switch fourth and sixth hour, but then my parents would have to talk to the administration and get it approved, but she thinks that they’ll approve it because of the problems that I have.
I took a math test but I know I failed. I studied, but I just didn’t understand the problems on the test. I took my English midterm. I think I probably got a low C on it. Fortunately, I got 20 bonus points last class. I’m really worried about tomorrow’s tests though – biology and geometry. There’s no telling what I’m going to be like tomorrow, I’d rather not think that far ahead.
I also have my riding lesson today – and math tutoring. After school, I’m going to change my riding clothes and then go to tutoring, and I’ll get picked up around 3:30 to go to my lesson. I wonder who I’ll ride. I hope Cathy’s better. She got bucked off of Champ two weeks ago and landed on her neck – she’s really fortunate she’s not paralyzed – just sore. I can’t wait until this class is over. I want to ride!
Cathy put me a Boxcar. I did a lot of posting trot, and some sitting trot. Then Cathy asked me to canter. I cantered 1–2 times around before I lost my outside stirrup, but I kept cantering. I lost my stirrup the first few times I cantered, and I told her that I thought it was because when he turned the corners I tended to lean with him, loosening my outside stirrup so that it would fall off. She had me do circles at the canter, and told me to keep my weight on my outside seat bone and stirrup. I cantered circles at every corner all around the arena without dropping my stirrup. Toward the end of the lesson, she had me drop my stirrups and do a sitting trot. She watched me and said that my back was relaxed and absorbing the movement, and that I looked like a dressage rider. After the lesson, she told me that she wished she could have me demonstrate the sitting trot to some of her other students. She also said that I did really good and she was pleased with the lesson and what I’d accomplished. It was a lot of fun, but I don’t think I’ll be riding for a while – we’ll see.
Friday 12/17/10
I’m tired and sore from yesterday. And second hour today, I studied for my geometry exam. I just finished taking it. Actually think I did okay – maybe an A or B. It took a while – it was 50 questions. Now I have to study for my biology exam that I’m probably going to fail.
I’m worried I might be getting addicted to white out. Last night I want to sniff it so bad I almost got out of bed to do it. I wanted to do it during the test to, but I didn’t. I still want to sniff it, but I don’t want to be obvious to other people. I don’t know how much longer I can go without doing it. I’ll probably feel like going crazy over the break because I won’t be able to sniff it without risking my parents finding out – that would be disaster.
I can’t stop pulling my hair out either. I don’t know what to do. I can’t work on three different things at once. I feel like I’m about to go crazy. Nothing is turning out right – only riding. If it hadn’t been for my riding lesson yesterday I would probably kill myself.
I’m really worried about the break. I’m scared I’m going to get suicidal, or I’m going to get caught sniffing white out. We are supposed to go up to Tennessee, but my dad doesn’t want to take me if I’m going to tell my Aunt or Uncle anything. It’s not fair.
I just finished my biology exam. I may have done okay. Maybe somewhere around a C – but I don’t know for sure. The rest of my exams are pretty easy – civics, art, strings, and Spanish.
I didn’t sniff white out today. I can’t believe I pulled through today. I still want to, I might, but it’s unlikely. I couldn’t do it either because I was testing, or it would be too obvious what I was doing. I’m still worried that I’m addicted to it, but maybe it’s not bad yet. The thing is though, that I don’t want to stop. I know I should, but I don’t want to right now. I’m really afraid of what will happen if my parents find out.
The weekend’s coming up. I’ll see how I handle it. I’m even worried about the weekend, not to mention the winter break!
12/21/10
My weekend wasn’t too bad. I didn’t sniff white out. That’s probably a miracle. Part of it was that I got a cold and I couldn’t breathe or smell anything. That would make a pointless even try sniffing it. I did want to really bad though. I was almost craving it, but I didn’t give in. I knew there was too great a risk that I’d get caught. I almost got out of bed a few times, but I was afraid I would wake someone or get caught. I think I’m addicted to it already, and it’s not going to get any better because I don’t want to stop, I don’t care either.
Betty talk to my dad on Sunday. He said that she said that I was cutting myself, but I think one of them misunderstood, because I haven’t cut in a month – four weeks today – another miracle. Then my parents search my school bag. I was so lucky that I had taking out the cutting utensils and hid them somewhere else in my room. I can’t imagine the trouble I would’ve been if they had found it. It was a pencil sharpener with missing blades, (I honestly don’t know where they went) a clump of staples, and a snap off blade to a box cutter from art. (They’re in my locker now.)
We went to the mall on Saturday, and I got some new shirts. I wasn’t feeling that great, but I kept going. The next day (Sunday), I was sick and had to stay home. I figured out how to print lyrics to songs in different languages, so, over the course of Saturday – Monday, I copied, pasted, and printed all the songs I had available in Spanish, Italian, German, Portuguese, French, and Romanian.
I still want to die, and sometimes I get carried away. Like over the weekend. I said to myself that I was going to shoot myself, but then I asked myself where in the world am I going to get a gun? It was impossible. And nice idea, but totally impossible. I’m sort of debating whether not to take what I need to kill myself to Tennessee or not. (Mostly debating whether not I should bring white out) it’s very risky if I did – it might be discovered,or I could get caught. But if I don’t bring it, I have no way to escape if I feel I need to, and I might go crazy if I’m really addicted to white out. Being in a different, somewhat unfamiliar place, with my parents, without anyone to talk to, without anything to write on, without being able to call the hotline, and having a possible addiction without being able to satisfy it, is a recipe for total disaster. I’m really scared about what’s going to happen on the break.
Today’s been okay so far. I guess. I haven’t sniffed white-out yet. I still might, though. I know I failed my first hour exam, but I just finished my third hour exam. And I know I made an A. It was Spanish, and it was easy.
I’m not going to be able to ride for a while. We’re going to Tennessee this week, next week they won’t be lessons. I’m not sure about the week after that because that’s the day I’m supposed to get braces. I’m not looking forward to it. I know it’s going to hurt really bad. Maybe I’ll be able to kill myself before they put them in, but I might have to wait until the next day unless I have to take what I need home with me today – a huge risk for two weeks.
I’m pretty much craving white-out right now. I’m trying to fight it because A, Ms. Olsen knows, and I’m so scared she’ll probably catch me, and B, because it’s the right thing to do. It’s hard though. I want to do it really bad. I don’t think I can hold out much longer, but I can’t do it because it will be obvious to others, and Ms. Olsen will catch me, and I don’t know what will happen if she does.
Well, I just did it, and managed to get away with it, but it’s not enough. (Squeezed some out of a pen onto paper) I want more. I want the whole bottle to sniff to feel better.
Friday 1/7/10
I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to white out. I’ve sniffed it every day since the third day of the break. I sniff it before I go to sleep because it’s the only time I can get away with it. It makes me fall asleep faster, now, I don’t want to stop. I don’t care what it does to me.
I got my braces yesterday, and I can’t really eat anything. I don’t hurt that bad, but they’re really painful if I bite down at all. My jaw’s locked too. It’s been locked since yesterday.
Anyway, here’s what’s happening today. I managed to switch out of Ms. Bennet’s class, but my entire schedule got changed around – including English. I now take Ms. Fortenberry. My best friend, Breya is transferring to another school tomorrow, and my other friend is moving to Texas. That was the last straw. I can’t take anymore. I feel like crying. I only have an hour left – then I’m going to kill myself. There’s no point in trying to keep going. There’s no point in living anymore. Eventually, my parents will find out, and that will be it. Why wait until that happens? My chest hurts, somewhere deep inside me. Emotional pain that I have to escape. I don’t have a choice. I have to go through this, and has to work. I hate myself so much. I just hurt all over. I don’t know where it’s coming from. It makes me want to cut, or run until I escape, but that’s impossible. The only way out is suicide. These feelings are undescribable. I just know that they won’t go away for very long time – maybe never. The only way to permanently escape this is suicide. It just has to work.
I went in the bathroom to kill myself, but something else inside me wouldn’t let me. I went to room 101 instead, but when I walked out, I felt angry. Angry at myself for not going through with it. I kept telling myself, I should’ve gone through with it. I should’ve done it.
I still want to do it I wish I had another chance. I wish someone would shoot me. I do it myself if I had a gun. I think part of what’s stopping me is the fear that it wouldn’t work, and my parents would find out. Maybe I can get out of one of my classes to use the bathroom – so I can kill myself. I have to get out of here. I can’t take anymore. What’s worse, I completely pulled my eyebrows out. I’m totally afraid. I can’t go backwards, and I afraid of the present and future. That’s why I have to escape. It’s the only thing I still have. Knowing that I can leave when I want is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.
Monday 1/10/11
Went to a convention over the weekend. The program was good. The only downside is that my teeth were still really sore, so I couldn’t really eat anything. My sister was baptized on Saturday. That was an exciting event for us.
I decided to stop sniffing white out. I laid in bed craving it. I eventually gave in. I can’t stop. I’m addicted to it. I don’t know how much longer I can go without my parents finding out. Probably not long.
I’m in Free Enterprise now. Terry is not here even though I saw him this morning. I’m really worried about him. Breyá transferred to another school. I can’t take anymore. Everything hurts. I’m going to kill myself today. I can’t wait any longer. I have to go through it. I’m in so much pain. I can’t take anymore. I’m not even sure I’ll call the hotline. I want to do it so bad. I don’t even think I’ll be able to wait until lunch.
After English class, I talked to Ms. Johnson for a while, and told her how I felt. She told me to go call the hotline. I told her I didn’t want to call, but I wanted to go through with it. She told me “do something” so I looked at her and asked her “can I go through with it?”, And she looked back at me and said no. I reluctantly agreed to call the hotline.
Ms. McCain wasn’t there, so I told the lady at the front desk what I needed to do. She talked Ms. Talbot, who agreed to let me call until the bell rang. So I went into the principals office and called. I think I got one of the people I had before. I told her how I felt. I didn’t have much time, so when the bell rang, I had to hang up. I was in tears. She said that she had an obligation to see that all of the caller stay safe, she would have to call the school and check on me.
When I got to fifth hour. I told Mr. Harrison (my art teacher – someone very special to me) what happened. A little later, Ms. Talbot came in to get me. She told me to bring my stuff, and she told Mr. Harrison that I probably wouldn’t be coming back. She escorted me to guidance, and told me to sit right there, and not go anywhere. I had to wait for Dr. Sanders (the guidance counslor I spent the most time with the previous year, also the freshman guidance counselor also seeing half of the sophomore class (my half)) to get out of a meeting with a parent. My stomach is flip-flopping, and I was shaking from head to toe, but I took this opportunity to eat.
Dr. Sanders finally called me into her office. She asked me about what happened, and I told her. She talked to me for a while. She told me about what happens to some people who try to kill themselves. And she said that she would have to call my parents. She asked me if I would be safe to go back to class, or if I had to wait for my mom to come pick me up. I told her I would go back to class. But I finally made a good decision – I offered to call my mom. I did – even though it was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My mom seemed upset when I told her what happened. She asked why, and how she knew I was going to be okay. I finally managed to convince her. I hung up, and took my note from Dr.Sanders and went back to class. I open the door of my art class, and said “I survived!”
***
When I got home, my mom met me almost across the street from our house. She asked me what happened, how long I thought about it, and what I was going to use to do it, and where it was. (I had got rid of it in the guidance office while I was waiting) but she let me go in the house while she waited for Katherine’s bus. When I got home later, my mom left to take grandma back, and he asked how my day was, and I was forced to tell him what happened. He wasn’t mad though. He even let me keep my riding lessons, and my ride with Meredith on her horse, probably on Wednesday.
Later on, I decided to try to stop sniffing white out again. When I went to bed, I started craving it. I said my usual prayer, and try to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. I wanted so bad, but I was about to give in. I prayed again and asked for strength not to give in, and to please help me not to do it. After I said “amen”, a great calm can’t over me and the cravings stopped. After I fell asleep, every time I move or rolled over, I got really dizzy and felt like I was going to roll off the bed. Other times, I felt like I was sinking, or floating. It made me want to sniff it to get rid of the dizziness, but I refrained, even though it was hard.
Tuesday 1/11/11
I don’t understand how yesterday could be so bad, but today be so good. I feel better today. I want to live, and I’m happier, and I’m looking forward to tomorrow and Thursday. It feels so nice. I wish it could stay like this forever. I don’t remember ever having a will to live the strong. It’s really weird, since yesterday, I never wanted to kill myself so bad before. This is so different, but it’s a Nice change – a change for the better (for now). I wish I felt this good all the time. I don’t know how this is possible – it’s truly amazing. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest, and the pain that was tormented me is gone today. I love this, I love feeling like this. It’s absolutely wonderful!
When I went to bed tonight, I try not to sniff way out. I get I laid in bed craving it. Just when I was about to give in, I prayed, and the craving stopped, and I went to sleep.
Wednesday 1/12/11
I feel as if yesterday never happened. I feel “dead”, like I’m here, but I don’t have any motions. I feel dazed, and depressed. I want to kill myself. Everything inside me is hurting again. I’d do it today, but I’m riding tomorrow. I need some way to escape. It’s too painful. I wonder if most of this is withdrawal symptoms. I want to sniff white out to get rid of all this. I don’t think I can stop. The withdrawal is too powerful. I need to do something but I don’t know what to do, or where to turn. I have to get out of here. Maybe will be worth it to commit suicide today anyway, or maybe I would feel better if I sniffed white out. Maybe I should try cutting again.
I cannot stop sniffing white out. I’m too addicted to it, and the withdrawal symptoms are too much. I can’t do it. I’ve never succeeded in doing anything. It’s like I’m putting out effort, but not going anywhere. It’s too hard. I cannot keep going.
I feel out of it, like I’m only half here, and the other half is somewhere else. I’m starting to wonder if I killed part of my brain. I feel strange, like I’m half crazy. I can’t seem to stop rocking from side to side, or bouncing my leg up and down. I feel like I belong in some sort of mental institution, or a drug rehab. I wonder if it will go away if I sniff white out again. At the same time as all this, I feel really tired, with no good reason, but I feel like part of me is missing.
I was supposed to ride with my friend today, but she canceled because her mom had a last- minute meeting she had to attend for something. I’m going to have my regular lesson tomorrow, though. I’m not sure yet, but I might kill myself tomorrow night (if I’m not riding in the show), or Friday, but probably no later than Monday or Tuesday.
Tonight, when I went to bed, I started craving white out. I couldn’t take anymore, and I was tired of dealing with the withdrawal, so I gave in and sniffed it. I feel so much better, and I went to sleep almost immediately.
Thursday 1/15/11
I got really depressed today, and I wanted to kill myself, but I’m riding today. I know I need to get help – tomorrow – or I’m probably going to kill myself. I’m still not sure how I’m going to go about it, though. Maybe I’ll call the hotline when I feel bad, and ask the particulars about having someone come get me. I might go to Dr. Sanders. I’ll probably play it by ear and see how it goes.
Cathy put me on Boxcar. I had a good lesson. When I went to put them away, though, I broke down. I put my arms around his neck and cried, then I patted him goodbye, and left the stall.
Friday 1/16/11
Today I decided I was going to try to get help, or else I was going to kill myself. When I got to school, I wanted to end my life, but it wasn’t really bad yet. When I got to lunch, though, I really wanted to die. I didn’t really want to call the hotline; I wanted to go through with my plan to kill myself, but I decided to call anyway and try to get help.
I went in the main office, but the principal told me to call from guidance, so I went to guidance for the second time today. Dr. Sanders let me call for 10 minutes, and I took the opportunity. I told her how I felt, and asked her how I could get help and told her that I felt like I needed to go back in the hospital. When I had to hang up, she said that she would get me help. I talked to Dr. Sanders a while, and then went to lunch, and class.
About 10 minutes into sixth hour, the intercom came on and I knew they were calling me to guidance – they were. When I went down there, she told me that things had escalated, and then explained to me that the hotline called back, and told them that they needed to call the CART team, Dr. Sanders talked with the principal and decided that they would call the CART team, so they did, and the CART team said that they had to call my parents, and set up an appointment for an evaluation. Then Dr. Sanders called my parents, told him what was going on, and that they needed to come pick me up, and call the CART team.
When she came, mom told me to clean out my locker – everything. I had some stuff in there that I could not let my parents see. I was forced to throw out the best blades I had, only I forgot the notes! So I stuffed them in my boot. I managed to give this journal to the guidance person, and I stuffed what I was going to use to kill myself in my jacket. When we left the school, my mom informed my dad and drove me to get evaluated by the CART team. They asked me a bunch of questions. They also made me sign a no self–harm contract, which I didn’t want to sign. Everything was okay until he asked me if I was on drugs or alcohol. I hesitated for giving a soft “no”. At that point my mom gave me a funny look, But I ignored it.
When I got home, mom found the papers I jammed in my boot, that said I was addicted to white out, they found out alright. Later on somewhere around the time when my dad came home, everything started hurting. I was in so much pain that I just started crying. I couldn’t stop. Somewhere deep inside me was a pain that I felt, but I couldn’t really tell where was coming from, or why it hurt. I just knew that it did. This made me want to escape through suicide more than ever.
My dad found an article on whiteout on the Internet and made me read it, but I could hardly see the screen because of the tears in my eyes. While I was trying to read the article, my dad started mimicking me, and I got mad and started yelling hitting things. My parents decided to “restrain” me. My mom held me, but I managed to escape her grasp a few times, but she pulled me back before I could get far enough away. My mom had my upper body, and my dad decided to grab my lower body and legs, but he doesn’t know his own strength (I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt) and he was “crushing” my legs and twisting my body while I was being swung around. (This probably sounds worse than it was) When he finally let go, I felt my legs wouldn’t hold me up and my mom was still swinging me in circles. My mom spanked me with her hand. It was a good while before they let me go.
I was so upset and in pain, that I either want to kill myself, or call the hotline and tell them that I needed someone to pick me up now, but I didn’t. I went to sleep.
Tuesday 1/18/11
The weekend (three days) was just one big blur. Micah Thomas talked to me on Sunday, and a meeting is set up for today. My parents wanted (and still want to homeschool me.) It was tricky to talk them out of it. My dad’s final decision was that if I go to the hospital again I would be homeschooled. He also thinks that the administration will put me out of the school. Amazingly (this really is a miracle) my parents aren’t going to take my riding lessons away. I think that may be partly be due to the fact that I talked about how I could make a living off of being a riding instructor. This is one fact I’m happy about. I feel like it will always be there for me to fall back on. Just as good, I think my parents are probably going to get me help. (Psychologist and psychiatrist) I just wish it hadn’t taken this for them to get it for me.
I am sorry I sniffed white out. I look back on it and realize that it wasn’t worth what it cost, and I wish I never started in the first place. I know it’s wrong, and I wish I hadn’t done it at all. I know I could be in serious trouble for it. I really don’t want that, but I know it’s for the good of others.
Today, I actually feel okay. I’m looking forward to Thursday. I must admit that I’m worried about tonight, though. What if I get in serious trouble? I’m to the point now where I want to kill myself, but a little piece of me still wants to live, but I don’t know how long that piece of hope will stay lit, or how long it will be before every part of me wants to die again. It could be tomorrow, or Friday, or maybe not until next month. I just know that when it hits, that’s going to be it – I’m either going to end up dead, or in the hospital. Then I’ll be homeschooled. I’m really and truly down to the wire here, and I don’t know how much longer it will be before I’m under it.
Wednesday 1/19/11
Today, for the most part was okay. I felt depressed, and “dead” during second hour, but I snapped out of it during art. Art class always makes me feel better somehow, and I made it through the day.
Later this evening, I had to talk to the three people in the meeting, about white out, and wanting to kill myself. They asked me a lot of questions, like when I sniffed it, how often, and how long. They tried to reason with me, and explained why it wasn’t a good idea to end my life, and how everyone including God would feel if I took my life. Even through this, I still want to kill myself. I would have done it earlier today, but I had a riding lesson tomorrow.
Thursday 1/20/11
Today started out okay, but I got depressed, suicidal but there was no way I was going to do it when I had a riding lesson later on. When I got to geometry, the feelings intensified. I almost decided to kill myself anyway, but for some reason, for the first time in months, this feeling changed into the sudden urge to cut myself. I’d forgotten what it feels like, how much hurts, the intensity of these feelings, and desires to cut. It all came back in a flash. I didn’t have anything to cut with, no blades, no pencil sharpeners that I could get the blade out of – nothing. I needed to cut. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate, and I was about to go crazy. I felt like I was about to explode inside. I want to jump up and scream, kick, hit, and throw things. But I had to contain myself. I knew that if I could cut, that everything would be gone in a few seconds. This made it even harder. I tried to fight it, but there was no way I could make it through another hour, and I got desperate. I saw the stapler on the teachers desk, I got an idea. I pulled the staple out of the old midterm study guide, I pushed up against my finger and jerked it sideways. The small opening it created was more like a puncture than a cut or scratch, but it was just enough to take the edge of my feelings. I still wanted a blade, but I didn’t have one. I suffered through the rest of the class until I got to art.
I was better during art, as always, but when I got to biology I wanted to cut again. It was hard to resist. After I suffered through another class, I had to go to tutoring. I still wanted to cut. I had to get rid of this feeling somehow, so I ran around the perimeter of the school. Even after everything, I still wanted to cut myself. The run had taken the edge off my feelings, just enough so it was bearable. Then I changed into my riding clothes.
When I got to tutoring, I tried learning about proofs for the test the next day. My focus level was slightly better. When my arm started itching, though, and I scratched it, I realized that part of my nail was uneven. I couldn’t resist. I dug my nail into my arm and slid sideways, twice. That made me feel better, and my full concentration was back.
I went to my riding lesson after tutoring. Cathy put me on Skipper. He tried to bite me while I was grooming him. I fetched Paris for my instructor and help collect tack for the other students.
When I finally got in the arena, I realized that Skipper was different – very different, then Boxcar. I had to kick him to make him trot. His strides were shorter and choppier compared to Boxcar’s smooth even trot. Cathy soon asked me to two-point the trot. I did and I felt Skipper speed up until he broke into a canter. I pulled back on the reins and slowed him back to a trot. This was not the Skipper I knew. The Skipper I knew wouldn’t canter without a crop. And when Cathy asked for the canter, he broke as soon as I asked him. I cantered him around the arena several times, and slowed him back to a walk. Through the whole lesson, he kept trying to break into a faster gait, so I tightened my grip on the reins and shortened them. He was wired, and he was a handful, but I enjoyed riding him. Cathy said we made a good pair.
I told Cathy that I might kill myself tomorrow. She told me to at least wait until I got help and saw how it went. I should’ve listened. I should’ve headed the warning.
Friday 1/21/10
Today at school was okay. I wasn’t that suicidal. I wanted to cut myself, but I managed to hold out.This was really hard in biology. I had to take a test. I stayed up and studied last night. For some reason, my brain wasn’t working. I couldn’t comprehend the questions or the answers. I felt like I wasn’t even there. Like I was there physically, but somewhere else mentaly. I knew cutting would probably help me focus, but I couldn’t get the blade out of the pencil sharpener. I didn’t finish the test. I only got to question 28 out of 55. The teacher let Terry and I (he didn’t finish either) bubble in random answers. This made me miss my bus, So my mom picked me up around 3:00.
I found out that one of my friends started cutting. His friend does it too. He said he stopped, but today he said he had a relapse. He said he told his parents, but that they didn’t care. I’m worried about him. I wanted to cut more too, only I’m afraid of the consequences.
Later that evening, as I was about to get ready for bed, the age to kill myself came over me. Somewhere deep inside me. I hurt, and I felt like crying. I wanted to escape so bad, that I decided to kill myself, so I prepared. I took what I was going to use out of the hiding place in the closet and placed it under the waistband of my pants. When I went to bed, I burst into tears. I Was in so much pain. I couldn’t stop crying. I had to escape, I felt like I would never get better, that there was no point in trying.
I got the phone unit of my parent’s room and dialed Cathy’s number. No answer. I called her several times, hoping to get ahold of her. I finally left a message saying that I wanted to kill myself really bnd, and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. A while later, around 10:30, I decided I was just going to go ahead and do it. I took the two headbands that I had attatched together out of my waistband. I put it around the front of my neck, crossed it in the back, and brought it back around to the front. Then I pulled it as tight as I could, and waited. It felt like forever. My head felt really big. I could feel my brain pushing on my skull, and my whole head was throbbing. It didn’t hurt, it was just throbbing. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head, and they felt smaller -like I couldn’t keep them all the way open. I felt like they were doing sideways. Still I kept it tight. I wanted to die. I wanted this to be the last attempt. I felt I had to escape. I didn’t want another day of everything. I laid like this for several minutes before I took it off because I felt it wouldnt work. I couldn’t accept the fact that I had just attempted suicide yet again. I fell just short of a year. Just over a month left and I ruined it.
I waited about 15 minutes, then I tried again. I got the same results as the first time. Again I failed. I had one attempted suicide a total of 15 times and I hadn’t succeeded yet. As this began to sink in, I became angry, and I hated myself even more than ever. I felt stupid, because I couldn’t even kill myself. More than anything I wished I had a gun. I started thinking about other ways I could kill myself, but I couldn’t swallow pills. I got up to use the bathroom, and I looked at my neck. I had pulled it so tight that it raised a welt on the side.
I felt so bad. I needed someone to talk to so I called the hotline. The first person I got just talked to me. It took me awhile, but she got me to agree to call back if I was going to try again. I waited awhile. I felt like I was going to do it again, so I called back I got a different person. She pulled up my notes from the previous call. I told her how I felt and what I still wanted to do. She said that she had to send a report to child protection services and talk to her supervisor. She put me on hold while she did this. When she came back she said that child protection services said that this was a situation that couldn’t wait until Monday or Tuesday. She said that she would have to send someone out there tonight. Then I was terrified. She told me to pack what I needed because I would probably be going to the hospital.
I quietly got my things together that I would need. A few minutes later, she phone rang. By this point, I was staining from head to toe. My dad comes in my room, turns the light on, and tells me to get up and come to their room. Just as I walk in , my mom hangs up the phone. Then the questions start coming.
They start yelling at me and fussing me, asking why I wanted to kill myself, and why I called the hotline instead of talking to them. Thy order me to get ready – I was going to the hospital. The police knocks on the door before we can leave. She starts talking to me and asks me what was going on. I told her that I tried to kill myself. The officer, my parents, and I talked for awhile, then the EMS cane to the door. He talked to my parents and I and said it was up to my parents whether or not I was to go to the hospital. So, of course, I didn’t go.
My parents stayed up talking to me until around 4:30. My mom set up a bed on the floor in my room where she slept the rest of that night, and I had to wake up at 8:00 the next morning. My mom set my alarm and she said she won’t let me sleep during the day.
1/24/11
My weekend wasn’t too bad. Sunday, after the meeting we went bowling. I think my sister won even though I got a strike. I’m finally getting help too! My appointment is tomorrow at 4:30. My mom has slept in my room since Friday night. It’s really annoying – she snores almost all night long. I’m really tired too. I can’t seem to get enough sleep or catch up on all the sleep I lost.
I wanted to cut at school today, but somehow I held back. After school, my mom came to get me for my doctors appointment. It was in Denham Springs and it took awhile to get there. When we finally found it, and went inside, we had to fill out papers. I did my homework while I was waiting.
The doctor seemed nice. My mom and I told her what was going on. She gave me a new diagnosis and stated what she thought, and what her goals for me are. (What I need to work on to get better) I think that she’s probably right. My mom agreed to make another appointment. My mom talked to my dad when we got home and he sort of went back on his word. He told me that if I made anymore phone calls, that he would cancel my riding lessons. I asked him if that would just be for one week, or for good, and he said that it was a possibility that he would cancel them for good if I ever called the hotline again. And yes, if I hadn’t been getting help today, I probably would have tried to kill myself today and it might have worked.
1/25/11
The first part of my day wasn’t bad at all. I didn’t think about killing myself – not even once the whole day! I wanted to cut instead. It got worse during geometry and I finally took out a blade and cut my finger, but I still wanted to cut. This feeling built up again and when I got to Spanish I cut again, even though I sit in the front. It made me feel a little better as this one was deeper.
When I got to biology though, the feelings and desires to cut came back. I couldn’t think or concentrate. Terry said he wasn’t going to let me cut. When I went in the back for something, though, I took the blade out again and cut my wrist. This time I went even deeper. I wrapped a Kleenex around my wrist and put my watch back over it to hold it in place.. When Terry came back, he saw it. He told me to stop, but I couldn’t. I felt so much better. I was calmer and I could concentrate, and the wanting to cut was gone. When I got on the bus, I removed the makeshift bandage and covered it up with my watch.
1/26/11
The first part of today was really good. I had fun in art and Spanish. I wanted to cut a lot but somehow managed to hold back. Until biology anyway, When I got to biology, I took out the blade and extended the cut on my wrist. The second half was deeper than the first. It soon stopped bleeding but then started again. Later, I covered it up with the watch.
When I got off the bus, I shaded the sun with my hand. Mom asked me what happened to my finger. I looked at it and said I didn’t know it was like that. I told herI thought I got it caught on one of my folders when I was digging through my backpack. She accepted this explanation and dropped it. When I got inside, I was terrified that she would tell me to take my watch off, so I sprayed on some liquid bandage and tried to cover it with face cream, but to no avail. I’m really worried that they’re going to find out.
1/27/11
Today was good. I wanted to cut myself almost all day, but somehow I managed to hold out. After school, I went to tutoring and changed into my riding clothes.
Cathy put me on Boxcar. I love him. Cathy had me trotting and cantering circles. I did good. I didn’t lose my stirrup once! I had a lot of fun. When I put Boxcar away though, I broke down and hugged him while I cried. Mom took a video of me cantering, and I watched it. I looked pretty good, and I wasn’t bouncing.
1/28/11
In 1st hour I went to guidance, and told them how I was doing (not about cutting, of course) When I got to 2nd hour, I wanted to cut really bad, so I gave in. I pulled out the blade and slid it right above the previous cut. Later on, I extended the small cut to about an inch across. Finally it hurt. Mr. Donald called me up to the front to do and activity we had been doing, while my wrist was still bleeding. Finally I felt better. When it finally stopped hurting, I became frightened and worried. I’m scared to death I’ll be discovered, that someone will find out, that my parents will be angry.
I’m hurting inside. I want to cut again, but I need to save that spot for 7th hour. I’m about to go crazy. The more I cut, the more frightened I am of being discovered, the more frightened I am of that, the more I need to cut. There’s no end to this. There’s no stopping, no turning back, nothing I can do to make things better.
I might end up trying to kill myself at lunch. I cant take anymore. I’m scared out of my mind. I’m hurting and theres really no way to escape. Maybe if I cut deeper…I need to talk to someone, but no ones available. I don’t have anyone to turn to. I don’t know what to do except commit suicide.
1/31/11
My weekend wasn’t too bad. I was busy. I started my math project, finished my Biology, worked on some sun catchers, and started a horse painting for my riding instructor. I did want to cut, but I didn’t because I would probably have gotten caught, and I didn’t have a blade. I’m really happy that my parents didn’t see the cuts on my wrist. I thought they would.
I’m in English now, and I want to cut myself really bad. I think I’m about to give in. The way I’m feeling is impossible to describe. It just hurts from somewhere on the inside, somewhere deep inside me. I must admit though, that I’m scared of getting caught, but then, Ive never gotten caught before. Everything inside me hurts though, I feel like I have to cut, or I’ll never feel better.
I did cut myself. It turned out deeper than the others and it bled for awhile. I wrapped a tissue around my wrist and held it in place with my watch. Now I have to wear my jacked for awhile. I feel so much better now, though, more relaxed, and calmer, and the urge to cut is gone. Even so, I know I cant live my life like this. I have to find a way to stop but I don’t care. I know its wrong, but just like the white-out, I cant bring myself to want to stop. I want to die, so I’m not worried about hitting the artery, I just don’t care.
I went to therapeutic riding to volunteer. Cathy wasn’t there – she was in Florida. When my mom came to pick me up, she seemed angry. She found out hat I had been cutting. Juilette told her. She was mad. She demanded to see the cuts, which were completely hidden under my watch. She asked me what I did it with, but I told her a pencil. She told me that she was going to watch me.
When I got home, she demanded that I take a shower. She made me keep the door open, and wouldn’t let me close it. I had to take a shower with her watching me. All the while I was yelling at her to stop. It was hard. My dad asked her why she was in the bathroom and she told him that I had cut myself. It was really hard. She also sat in front of my door until I went to sleep.
2/7/11
I hadn’t gotten a chance to write in a week. There was no school Friday, so I had extra days to do my homework that was due on that day. I didn’t have a riding lesson Thursday. My parents took my riding lessons away – but the park closed because of the weather.
I had to take another shower with my mom watching me. This was worse than last time. My mom insisted in standing in the shower door where she could see everything. I kept hitting the door and hitting the door against her body. At times, I would become so frustrated and angry that I would hit myself in the face repeatedly with both hands, It was terrible. My dad said that he couldn’t live like this, and he threatened to put me in a mental institution. To be honest, I really don’t care. I wanted to kill myself the whole weekend. It was all I could do to hang on until Monday (today) where I would have the chance to go through with it. I wished I had a gun so I could pull the trigger. I wanted to die so bad.
Today, I still might kill myself. I want to die so bad. I have what I need. I wish someone would shoot me. I want to cut, but if I do the same things will happen. If I make a decision for sure, I’m going to try it until something happens. Ive even considered trying to cut a major artery, and going off campus to see if I can get a gun from someone. (I’m not going to do that through because I’ll get in trouble with the law, the school, and my parents) I just want to die do bad. It’s indescribable. I’m tired of hurting all the time. I have a 42% in Geometry, a 68% in Biology. I’m failing and I’m not going to therapeutic riding lessons today. I don’t think anything is going to get better. My sister won’t stop hurting me and being mean. I cant handle my parents anymore, and I’m in constant emotional pain, that I don’t know how to escape from besides suicide. Life isn’t worth living, and so many people would be better off without me – my friends, my teachers, and especially my parents and my sister. Their life would be better without mine. No one needs me. I’m not good for anything at all – all I do is cause problems. I can’t take anymore. I have to go through with this at some point, and it MUST, it has to work, or else everything is going to get worse.
I would have done it in Biology, but I was afraid to ask to use the bathroom, and I was afraid my friend would try to stop me, plus, we were doing a lab, so I didn’t. I wanted to go through with it, but I sort of changed my mind (for today)
2/8/11
Everything’s different today. For the first time since I stopped cutting again, I haven’t wanted to kill myself. I knew I had a math test today, but even that didn’t bring my spirits down. This feels so nice. I think I actually passed my math test for the first time this semester.
I started studying the chapter after next in Spanish. I was looking at he words and suddenly things started coming together! It was amazing! I saw words I recognized from the songs that I had learned in Spanish and I started to understand what it meant! I wanted to learn everything, right then, but that was impossible.
I just finished taking a Spanish test and I think I did pretty well on it. For the first in my life, I can feel some self-esteem. I feel like I’m actually pretty good at painting, at Spanish, at singing and playing the violin. I wish I could feel like this forever. But I know it wont happen.
I had a doctors appointment with the counselor. I showed her the painting I painted, and she thought I had taken a picture of a real horse. The she asked me to sing. I asked her to pick a language. She pickled Italian so I sang, Uno io te, or, Now We Are One. She was impressed and thought I sang really good. She asked how I knew what syllables to emphasize so I told her how I learned the songs. My next appointment is Tuesday.
2/11/11
I had a riding lesson yesterday on Skipper. I mainly did walk and trot, and not too much cantering as there were too many horses in the arena for me to feel comfortable cantering on Skipper. I had fun, but when I got home after the lesson, I broke down twice, and almost a third time, I just hurt so much.
Today’s even worse. Tengo que morir. Voy a matarme, maybe in 7th hr, since lunch has already passed. I’m in Spanish right now, but I hurt, everything hurts. I want to die so bad, I feel like going to sleep and never waking up – possible with a generator running but 110% impossible with my parents and everything. I only have two options – to strangle or hang myself, and neither one is sure to work. The last thing I want is to end up with a 16th attempt and have my parents find out about it.
I hurt so bad right now. I wish I could just cry or double over in pain. I know cutting would help, but I can’t. The only way to escape all this is through suicide. Tengo que matarme. It has to work. I don’t know whats going to happen, or how I’m going to feel if I can’t go through with this. Not only that, but people would be better off without me. No one needs me, and if I was gone, people’s lives would be so much easier, especially my parents. I have to take every opportunity I get to go through with this and do my best to make it work once and for all, and I cant be afraid to ask Ms Moore if I can use the bathroom porque tengo que morir! Ahora mismo!
I didn’t get a chance, Ms Moore was teaching the whole time. Ms. Olsen took me to my next class. It was all I could to to keep her from taking me to guidance. After school, I missed my bus. I went in Ms. Olsen room and let her know that I was still here. I had broken down in Biology because I hurt so bad.
2/14/11
My weekend was ok. Disc 2 of the songs came out in Spanish so I learned #74 in Spanish on Sunday. I wished I had gone through with it Friday. I wanted to die all weekend. It was all I could do to hang on until today.
Today, I’m hurting. I want to die yet again and I’m not sure I’m going to make it this time. I have so many things going on with me right now, hair pulling, skin picking, cutting, hurting inside, longing to die, breaking down for no reason…There’s so many things that people would be better off if I wasn’t here, if I didn’t exist. I wish I was dead, and then I wouldn’t hurt anymore. No one needs me. Nothing I do is needed by anyone. I have no purpose on this planet and its better for me to die than it is for me to keep on living.
Ms. Olsen told two guidance counselors about me. When I walked out of Ms. Fortenberry’s class for lunch, Ms. Simmons (the other sophomore guidance counselor) was waiting for me. I quickly found out what had happened. This marks either the 43rd or 44th (43rd) time I’ve been in guidance this year. I was in guidance the whole lunch period and did not get the chance to end my life like I’d planned. Now I’m in biology, and I feel horrible.
Here’s whats going on inside my head; how I feel; what im saying to myself. Why am I still alive? I’m supposed to be dead. Why am I still here? What am I doing? Can’t someone just shoot me?
I hate myself. I want to die, but can’t. I hurt inside. I cant bear it any longer. If I had a gun I would pull the trigger. I want to escape this – everything. No one needs me; they’d be better off without me. I want to die so bad….If it wasn’t for the fact that were taking notes, I’d probably see if I can use the bathroom….
I feel like I’m longing to die. I want to do it so bad, I’m tired of fighting; tired of feeling like this; tired of hurting, basically, I’m tired of living. Being dead would be easier than being alive. It wold be so much better, and the people here that know me wold be better off if I wasn’t here, or if I didn’t exist.
My parents would not let me go to the stable because I had 2 67%’s. I got mad because I didn’t understand why when the teachers hadn’t put any grades in in a month. I got mad and yelled at my mom. Everything that I’d been feeling poured out, as if I’d been given an excuse to cry. The pain was back and I laid on twisting and crying with my eyes shut trying to endure what hurt. During that moment, I wished I had managed to have gone through with it with all my heart. I wanted to cut. I wanted pain to counteract the emotional anguish. There wasn’t anything I could do. I just had to wait it out
2/18/11
The last part of Tuesday was good, Wednesday was good, and Thursday, I was neutral. Cathy put me on Paris. She was a challenge. She started off on a rack (lateral pace) that was bumpy and bouncy when she was going fast. I couldn’t sit without bouncing, so I started to “post”. Brian was laughing and I was too. He said “You can’t post a gaited horse”. I was rising out of the saddle a couple inches. It was hilarious. She actually did a good bit of regular trot, which was fast and impossibly bumpy. She kept throwing her head and neck all the way up in the air, turning toward the inside on a dime suddenly) and stopping on a dime, not to mention if she’s racking, trotting, or cantering. I had fun.
Today though, quiero morir. Quiero dispararme pero no Puedo. I might do it durante el recesco, pero no sé for sure. Maybe 60%-70% chance that I will. Tengo que morir. I failed another geometry test, and a “D” on my report card is certain. That was the last straw.
I attempted suicide during lunch. I wanted to die, and I wanted it to work. I took the ponytail holders that were linked together out of my pocket and wrapped them around the top of my neck. I pulled them so tight I couldn’t get my finger under it. I sat down and leaned my back ggainst the wall. I was calm. I crossed my hands so that if I passed out it wouldn’t loosen and let in oxygen to my brain. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I really thought that I was going to die. My head felt big and like it was under pressure, and my eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of my head, but I remained calm. It was familiar to me. But it didn’t work and I figured out why: when you swallow, your throat moves, so when I would swallow, it would rise up under what I had around my neck, letting the oxygen back to my brain. I wish there was something I could do to keep that from happening, otherwise, I think it would have worked, but now I have 16 suicide attempts. And if my parents find out….
2/21/11
One Month today (except for Friday) I tried to kill myself in the middle of the night. To be frank, I still want to. Voy a matar me durante el rescesco. Maybe 50-50. Maybe more. My weekend was okay, even though I wanted to die almost constantly, and would have, had I have had something to do it with. Again, quiero dispararme Pero no pue do. I wish I could. I would have killed myself today, but I didn’t get a chance. I won’t have another one until Thursday or Friday
Monday 2/25/11
I Rode Wednesday because Ed and Gail are Flying in from California on Wednesday, but we won’t see them until
Thursday. Cathy put me on Roscoe. He has a big trot, but a beautiful rocking horse canter. I had fun on him even
though he’s not perfect (he drops out of gait and cuts corners and dives for the inside) After the lesson, I felt really bad.
I told Cathy I wanted to kill myself the next day. I told her that I felt like I was going to break down. She gave me a hug and I fell apart. I sobbed into her shoulder with pain inside me and just kept saying “I have to, Cathy. I have to do it.”
A couple of the little students asked her why I was crying. She just told the little kids that I was having a sad day. She
told me that I couldn’t do that, that I would start a chain reaction, that It would be too much on her – push her over the
edge too. She told me to spend some time with the horses, that I could go in the barn and cry if I needed to. I took Roscoe back, and cried just about the whole time. Then I sat on the bench in the middle of the barn isle and cried. I hurt so much inside. When I went back to the cow pen to get Dusty, I broke down again. Then I saw my mom standing there, and in my best voice I told her that I was taking him back, but I was careful not to let her see my face. I tried to gain my composure as I led Dusty back to his stall. Then I went back and got Skipper. By the time I finished taking Skipper back I felt that I was ok and didn’t look like I had been crying. But my mom noticed anyway and asked if I was Ok. Then she said my eyes were glassy, so I just told her that my nose was stopped up – I was getting a cold. It was true just, not the reason my eyes looked glassy. So it was believed and she didn’t find out.
The next day, Thursday, I still wanted to die really bad. It was all I could do to wait until lunch. Ms. Olsen convinced me to go to Guidence, so I went during 3rd hour. However, when I got to lunch, I decided I was just going to go ahead and do it. I tried to get a phone call to Cathy, but I couldn’t. I went in the bathroom and pulled what I needed out of my pocket and wrapped it around my neck, careful to get it as high up as I could. Then I pulled it tight and leaned my head against the wall and waited. My head felt huge, and it felt like it was moving in and out like it was the heart. My vision blurred, and faded in and out, and my eyes felt inflated like they could explode out of my head. My eyelids were closing up, and it was hard to keep them open. My hearing was fading in and out and I “knew” I was close. I started to lay down to die, but I lost my concentration and swallowed. The oxygen went back to my brain, and the symptoms diminished. I took it off and stood up shakily. My head was still throbbing, and my vision was still slightly blurred. I was slightly dizzy, and I sort of stumbled out the door to go eat lunch, running into it as I went out. Today, I still want to die, and I wish I knew how to make it work. I can’t, though. I didn’t attempt today even though I wanted to.
2/28/11
My weekend was pretty bad. I had a cold, so on Saturday, My mom and sister went to a baby shower. I stayed home with my dad. I wanted to die, still. I called Cathy, but she didn’t answer so I left a message. I called Ms. Melancon, My 7th grade history teacher, and talked to her for awhile. She told me not to do it, but I still wanted to. Later that night, after my parents went to bed, I was ready to commit suicide. I called Ms. Melancon back and told her I really wanted to kill myself because I was hurting so much inside, and I didn’t see any point in trying to keep going, or fighting anymore. I felt like nothing was ever going to get better, and people’s lives would be better without me. After I hung up, I called Cathy, but she didn’t answer, so I left a message saying that I was going to do it, and if it didn’t work, I’d call her back.
I pulled out the two headbands that I had: It wasn’t as good as what I could have had, it was less likley to work, but I was willing to try. My friend had taken what I had away from me on the bus. I wrapped what I had around my neck and pulled it tight. I wanted to die. I tried not to swallow. My head felt big, and it was almost impossible to keep my eyes open. My brain was pounding in my skull, and I thought I was going to die this time, but again, I lost my concentration and swallowed, and the oxygen went back to my brain, and I took it off. I failed again. I wished there was some way that I could die. I wanted a gun so I could shoot myself. I was tired of the pain, and I felt like I couldn’t take anymore – I just wanted out. I called Cathy and told her it didn’t work (through a message) I really wished it had, though.
The next night, Sunday night, I still wanted to die. I was seriously considering
making another attempt, but I went to sleep. I woke up halfway through the night. I was hurting inside. I felt like breaking down and crying, but at the same time I wanted to remain strong. I was fighting the urge to make another attempt, but inside, I felt like I couldn’t keep going, like I couldn’t make it. I needed to talk to someone. I called Cathy but she didn’t answer. I called the hotline several times, but the line was busy, so I called my Aunt in California. She talked to me a few minutes, then I hung up, and eventually went to sleep.
Today, I feel ok. I’m not sure if I’m going to therapeutic riding today. I’m worried about Cathy. I’m going to see if I can get the grade from my last test to pull the grade up so I can go. As it turned out, the teacher wasn’t there. I went to my locker to get my lunch. While I was there, though, the urge to kill my self came over me. I thought to myself “why not?” I could think of no reasons. So in those few seconds, I decided to go through with it. No guarantee that it was going to work though, but I took what I needed out of my locker and went in the bathroom.
When I got there, I took what I had and sat down against the wall. I wrapped it around my neck and pulled it tight. Again, my head pounded, and my eyes felt big, and like they were going to pop out of my head. I laid back against the corner. But I accidentally swallowed, and I failed again. I was still alive when I wanted to die more than anything, bu I got up and went to eat lunch.
When I got home, my mom had found out about the call last night. I guess my Aunt told her. She was mad and so was my dad. He wanted my riding lesson to be taken away, but would do what the doctor said tomorrow. I know that if I don’t have another lesson, I’ll probably end up with another attempt or I’ll succeed. Today marks number 19.
There is Help and Hope 