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my own suicide
Feb. 22nd, 2012 12:18 pmI don't watch Glee, because there are so many reasons I can't. But I hear a lot about it, because one of my best friends writes really interesting things about the show and its place in current culture and fandom and art and the world. So I sort of know, more or less, what is generally happening because it fills up Tumblr and my friendslist. That's nice in a way, because I can learn about the cool stuff and read the good fic without having to actually watch the show and deal with how hard it punches my buttons about high school.
Today that's really goddamn hard. Because apparently the most recent episode of Glee deals with suicide.
I tried to kill myself when I was sixteen. (written about here and more recently here) It's a strange thing to think about, outside that moment. I'm terrified of dying. It's my worst fear. But I remember that day and how everything built up that year and culminated in swallowing dozens and dozens of pills with a can of Coca Cola, sitting on the floor by my bedroom window. I remember with eerie clarity how fucked I knew I was, twirling the stereo knob so that the sound of the Kraftwerk album would obliterate everything else. That morning I read a story and in that story there was death. I was so hurt and messed up and scared that for some reason my mind went "Yep, death, that is the answer to this hole you can't get out of anymore."
It wasn't a bad grade that tripped me up. It was winning, over and over again, at a competition that weekend. It was winning those prizes and knowing that it didn't mean a damn thing, that come the next school day I would be back at the mercy of a lunatic teacher and a world full of adults who would not listen. It was knowing that I was trapped, halfway through my junior year with someone I could not get away from and could not fight back against who relentlessly savaged already shaky self esteem and sanity.
Despite my efforts, I survived. It's never gotten quite that bad in the fifteen years since. I've had some dark moments and I recall sitting on the edge of the bath tub during my first marriage wondering if suicide was going to become an option again. I've hurt myself six ways to Sunday in the intervening years, but I've never actively, seriously tried to die again. But it has shaped my entire life in the years since.
I am so unbelievably lucky. I survived without catastrophic brain damage though there are gaps in my memory that have never filled from that year as of a result of the antidepressants I was made to take and the overdose. My life is a millions times better now that it was then. I feel safer and saner all around. For whatever reason, I was lucky.
Every story is different. You just absolutely do not know what it will take to break you until it comes.
Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696
Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433
LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255
Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743
Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438
Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673
Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272
Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000
Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253
Crisis Chat Online: www.crisischat.org
Today that's really goddamn hard. Because apparently the most recent episode of Glee deals with suicide.
I tried to kill myself when I was sixteen. (written about here and more recently here) It's a strange thing to think about, outside that moment. I'm terrified of dying. It's my worst fear. But I remember that day and how everything built up that year and culminated in swallowing dozens and dozens of pills with a can of Coca Cola, sitting on the floor by my bedroom window. I remember with eerie clarity how fucked I knew I was, twirling the stereo knob so that the sound of the Kraftwerk album would obliterate everything else. That morning I read a story and in that story there was death. I was so hurt and messed up and scared that for some reason my mind went "Yep, death, that is the answer to this hole you can't get out of anymore."
It wasn't a bad grade that tripped me up. It was winning, over and over again, at a competition that weekend. It was winning those prizes and knowing that it didn't mean a damn thing, that come the next school day I would be back at the mercy of a lunatic teacher and a world full of adults who would not listen. It was knowing that I was trapped, halfway through my junior year with someone I could not get away from and could not fight back against who relentlessly savaged already shaky self esteem and sanity.
Despite my efforts, I survived. It's never gotten quite that bad in the fifteen years since. I've had some dark moments and I recall sitting on the edge of the bath tub during my first marriage wondering if suicide was going to become an option again. I've hurt myself six ways to Sunday in the intervening years, but I've never actively, seriously tried to die again. But it has shaped my entire life in the years since.
I am so unbelievably lucky. I survived without catastrophic brain damage though there are gaps in my memory that have never filled from that year as of a result of the antidepressants I was made to take and the overdose. My life is a millions times better now that it was then. I feel safer and saner all around. For whatever reason, I was lucky.
Every story is different. You just absolutely do not know what it will take to break you until it comes.
Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696
Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433
LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255
Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743
Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438
Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673
Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272
Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000
Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253
Crisis Chat Online: www.crisischat.org