It is hard to imagine why a teenager would rather die than go one more day. Why they feel it would be easier to end their life then face the possibility of being harassed another day. Teen suicide is a hot topic right now because there seems to be a trend happening, they are being driven to do the unthinkable by their peers. It gives me the chills, it makes me so sad for these teenagers because if they can get through it they will one day realize that this time in their life can become the past. I know this because I have been there at their age. I have wanted to die because of they way that I was being treated by my peers. In fact I became very close to dying but I survived. I am a survivor of teen suicide.
I moved to Moorhead in 9th grade. Growing up I was in 7 different schools, as soon as I would get comfortable at a school and had made a group of solid friends we would end up moving. It may have been because my dad got a new job, maybe we moved to a new home, or it was time to switch from parochial to public education. It did not become unbearable until I was in junior high and high school. Why? Because kids at that age no longer have to be polite. The teachers aren't in all of your period classes, they are very busy, and are not there to encourage the children to be "nice" to the new kids. Changing classes every period you kind of get lost in the mix. Especially when there are over 400 kids in your class. It is not anyones "fault" it just is what it is.
My first week of school not hardly any of the girls spoke to me. The boys did but that almost made it more awkward. I would get those,"who did you think you are looks?" Not only was I not making friends at my new school but my old relationships from my old beloved school were deteriorating rapidly. The girls that had become my sisters were angry with me, some for good reason others not sure why. I broke up with my first boyfriend that I thought I was going to be with forever. 8th grade romance sounds ridiculous but in all seriousness I did love this boy. I moved away and I was now the outsider.
I remember walking the halls of Moorhead High School and feeling like my heart was literally broken in half. Walking in a dark cloud. I could hear the voices around me, they felt as if they were drowning me. I would cry before school, in the bathrooms at school, and would cry all night long in my room after school. My parents fought me on phone bills. They fought me on trying to steal the car to go to Perham. They fought me on smoking cigarettes. I know that they were so tired of fighting me that the started to almost resent me.
The last straw was when they had given me permission to go spend a weekend in Perham. I was at one of my girlfriends, actually one of my best friends, and I kept reciting the calling card number my mom had given me so I would not forget it. I came home from the weekend and a couple weeks later my parents received the phone bill. It was over $200 and there was a $60 call from the calling card. They went ballistic! I told them it was not me but after crying wolf so many times they were done listening to my lies. There was nothing I could say or do to get them to believe me. I know that my girlfriend did it to me out of spite because I had done some things at the end of our friendship that were not right. But no matter what I said my parents did not believe me-they were done with me. At that point I felt like I could not go on any longer. I truly wanted to die.
I went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle that I had already premixed with all of our medications. This was not a new thought, I had been thinking about this for months. I looked at myself in the mirror, opened the bottle, and began swallowing pills. One by one I took an aspirin, Tylenol, ibuprofen. I would take each handful of pills with some water cupped in my other hand. I thought about how my parents were going to find me sleeping in my bed but not breathing. I thought about all of the pain I felt and how it was soon going to be ending. I thought about how all my friends were going to be sorry for hurting me. I thought how I could not wait to be gone.
After I had taken anywhere from 60-75 pills I walked to my room. In my head I had imagined that I would lay down and go to sleep. That is not what happens. Quickly my equilibrium was gone, I could not stand up right. My speech was soon to follow, I started slurring like I had one too many cocktails. But the thing that scared me the most was my vision. I was not seeing in double but more like triple and quadruple.
I woke up in the ICU with both of my parents staring at me. My mom looked like she had been through a war and my dad was sitting in his referee shirt still with his whistle on staring at me in disbelief. They both were being questioned by a social worker. Guilt flooded over me, this is not their fault, they are good parents. This is my fault, I am a bad kid please leave them alone.
After I was out of the fog but still in ICU one of the nurses sat with me one afternoon. She was my favorite, she looked after me as if I was her own, and she wore bright yellow scrubs. She asked why I did this to myself. I told her it was because I really wanted to die. She then explained to me that I have a disease and it is called depression. That she sees cases like mine all the time, I am not alone. She also explained to my how close I was to dying. That if my mother had gotten me there 5 minutes later it was very possible that I would not have made it. Do I realize the long term effects on my body? I still have some kidney damage from it.
From Meritcare ICU for five days I went to St. John's Odyssey for a month. The movie Girl, Interrupted with Angelina Jolie and Wynona Ryder was a 1960's portrayal of Odyssey but it was set in 1992 and was coed. I was there with girls with very colorful pasts. I shared a room with a girl that cut herself, her name was Joni and she painted on her eyebrows. Another girl that I had group counseling with who was 12, was there for trying to kill her parents-classified as a "sociopath". I felt like a mild case but it was also the first time that I felt like I belonged in a really long time. It was still very hush, hush. I remember my parents telling the school to tell the other kids I was gone for appendicitis or some sort of ailment. Depression was not as commonly spoken about in the early 90's like it is today.
I was there for 3 weeks. 5 rounds of counseling per day and released jacked up on Prozac and Lithium I was good to go. The rules were I could no longer look back only forward. I had to be honest with my parents even if it was uncomfortable and I had to keep seeing a counselor as well as a psychiatrist.
This experience has helped to mold me. It has not defined me. I came out of it with a strength I did not know existed. Now that I am older and 17 years wiser I am okay with sharing my story. Each time I hear about a teenager that is losing this battle it literally reaches in and crushes my heart. Being a teenager is just the beginning of your life, when you are in the mix of it you believe that this is it. But when you turn 30 you can barely remember it. We have to fight for these kids and stand by them. They need to know that they deserve to have a significant other, children, and a career they love. That some day they are going to have a group of friends that will support them no matter what and love them for being who they are. I found all of these things and so much more. In fact I found many of them after being released.
They deserve to be happy.
We all deserve to be happy.
I am very happy.
