I’ve always said, and I will always continue to say that the first month after a… collision… with suicide are the hardest.
People think that once the immediate danger is over you’ll be fine, maybe a little sad for a few days but that you’ll eventually turn back into the person you used to be. They think that there’ll be no long-term damage. Every single time that I have tried to end my life I have failed- or have I?
I always used to think that I had, that I was still fine and in one piece physically and was therefore totally fine and unharmed by my dance with death. Now I think that I was wrong. I think that every time I tried to kill myself I succeeded, not physically, but mentally. I feel like every time I killed off a little part of myself, of Wren.
It’s been 19 days since I tried. Four days after I tried I had to go back to school, it was one of the worst days of my life and I can say that with no exaggeration. I remember sitting there in class humming and staring at the ceiling and flinching at loud noises. Someone ran past the classroom and I almost started crying, I wanted to curl up and sob in my seat. People smiled and asked me how I was, commenting that I “seemed quiet” and withdrawn. I just smiled sadly and forced out a couple of falsely chipper words.
Recently my grades have been dropping. Only in some subjects, I have to add. Most noticeably in chemistry and physics- the two subjects that have never seemed to agree with me. I sit in the classroom and I have to try to hold myself together, I’m constantly focussed on how I’m holding myself, what my facial expression is like, my breathing- etc, etc. All the time trying to ignore the emotions that are welling up inside of me and the noise in my head.
It’s hard. It’s hard to act normal and keep that mask on, but I try so hard, it’s all I have and I really covet the tastes of normality that I get. People are scared of what I am, people can’t handle it. I’m sick of hiding it like some dirty secret- it’s hurting me and affecting my life. I see countless therapists just to help me get through the week.
One of the ways that I cope with things is by writing; I have written several novels, I write for over an hour a day but am at a loose end at the moment, I’m editing my most recent one and planning the next novel, but not actually writing. I’ve noticed that this, combined with the stress of my looming exams has ended in me taking a downwards spiral. In an attempt to give myself something to focus on and a way to express myself I have decided to start writing this blog.
So that I don’t have to repeat myself I’m going to say it all, bluntly:
I was bullied for seven years from the age of four onwards, I then suffered three months of sexual molestation at the age of thirteen- this lead to my first suicide attempt- after this I experienced nothing until I was about fourteen and a half, then I started experiencing mood swings and severe low mood. I started self-harming and have been ever since. My family are messed up, my friends live in a different world to me- and I’m sick of being alone.
My name is Wren, and it’s been 19 days since I tried to end my life.