The other day I was messing around on YouTube and I came across the Rascal Flats song "Why", which is a song about suicide. I scrolled down to the comments and saw something that seriously disturbed me. A young girl made a comment that she was struggling with thoughts of hurting herself, she was putting herself out there into cyber land hoping for some sort of support that she obviously couldn't find at home. What she got were a few supportive responses trying to convince her that life is worth living and to keep fighting, but what stood out were the comments tearing her down. This girl was fifteen years old and people were telling her things ranging from an eternity in hell to flat out telling her to do it. They didn't know her or what she had been through, but they were all willing to pass judgment on her. She was a kid, vulnerable and reaching out to the only thing she thought she could. I've been thinking about it since I saw it, she was a random user name on YouTube with no way of finding out who she is in real life. I've prayed that she found the strength to keep fighting and reach out to someone in her real life to help her. It really hit home to me, reminding me of the person I was just a few years ago. I went back and forth about blogging about it, not sure if I wanted to share the details of my own struggles, but as I sat here unable to sleep tonight I was reminded that I told myself I would be completely raw on here and maybe I can help one person realize that life is worth fighting for.
It is no secret that I struggled with anorexia and self harm from the age of fifteen until I was able to find my back up that mountain at twenty three. Despite the fact that I was starving myself and cutting to deal with my feelings I was never really trying to die, in my own way I was trying to survive. It wasn't until 2007 that I began that downward spiral that ended with me in a graveyard. In April of 2007 my first serious boyfriend who I thought I loved and trusted raped me taking what was only suppose to be mine to give...my virginity. I was devastated and ashamed too scared to tell anyone what happened. I held what happened deep inside for almost two weeks before I fell apart to a close friend of mine. For those two weeks I stopped eating, I barely drank anything, tried to bleed enough to cover what was tearing me apart on the inside, and sleeping on the floor of my bedroom unable to even sit on my own bed. When I broke down to my friend, letting that secret escape it all became real. She went with me to my doctor and stayed with me as I told him that I wanted to die, that I couldn't eat because having anything inside of me made my skin crawl, and she stayed when I was admitted to the hospital and a tube was shoved down my nose to nourish me. My doctor made the call to my dad and step mom telling them my shameful secret, and the reaction sent me even faster down the rabbit hole. My dad, the man I thought would kill anyone who hurt me never acknowledged that it happened and my step mom's reaction was it never would have happened if I hadn't broken the rules and had my boyfriend over while they were out of town. At this point the guy was stalking me and I filed a police report and an order of protection. I lived in a women's shelter for over a month, faced the monster in court with a victim advocate standing with me rather than my parents, I made the "cold call" where a detective bugged my phone and I called him and he admitted what he did on tape, and I was alone when the prosecutor called to tell me that he was very sorry about what happened, but even with the confession on tape there was no physical evidence and he didn't think he could get a whole jury to convict. He is still free today, living a normal life never thinking of me while I still have raging night terrors that leave me kicking and screaming as a man that loves me tries to pull me out of it, holding me until I come back to the present. I didn't know when it happened that the rape was just the beginning of my world crashing down.
For seven months after the rape, living in the shelter, facing him in court for the restraining order, and walking around wondering if he was there I convinced myself that things couldn't get worse...then the phone rang. In November I got an emergency call from my step dad telling me that my mom was in the intensive care unit unable to breathe for herself with her liver and kidneys shutdown from years of being unable to beat her alcoholism. She laid there for a month unable to improve or get the liver she so desperately needed (alcoholism means you have to be clean at least a year before you can be listed for transplant). On December 7th I got the call that they were going to take her off life support, I was two hours away with no way to get to the hospital. At 4:30 AM on December 8, 2007 my mom died alone with no one there holding her and helping her know that she was loved. Four days later I stood in front of her coffin and read the eulogy and held my five year old sister as they put our mom in the ground. As I held Kelly's hand I knew I had to be strong, not just for her but for my grandma and my step dad yet on the inside I felt like more of me was dying.
The next year was a blur...I met a man who was nothing but a crack head, convinced myself that I loved him and we got married. The only sane act of that year was not signing the marriage license which was a blessing given the character of the man. I'm pretty sure I was as clinically depressed as one can get by Spring of 2009, the insanity of the previous two years had turned me into a shell bent on self destruction. The first time I swallowed all of those pills I don't think I was trying to kill myself I just wanted to sleep so I didn't have to feel all the pain, sadness and anger raging inside of me. I spent three days in the hospital and they sent me back home on more sleep and anxiety medications than any person should ever have in the house at a time. It wasn't even a month after that when my need for sleep turned into a need to disappear. I didn't think about it for weeks or days before I did it, hell I didn't even intend to do it that morning when I woke up. But that sunny June day I pushed enough meds through my J tube directly into my intestine to ensure that the sun wouldn't come up for me again. It was a miracle that a facebook friend states away noticed something was wrong when she txt me and made sure that a group of EMTs and Firefighters burst into my apartment. I can't remember much...the EMT smacked me in the face when I stopped breathing, there were a bunch of doctors everywhere, and then I came to in the intensive care unit covered in wires and tubes. I realized at that point that I didn't want to die and how close I had been to actually succeeding.
I shared that because it is really easy to pass judgment on someone who has attempted suicide or expressed thoughts of suicidal ideation. They call them selfish cowards for quitting and leaving behind their loved ones. In my head dying was a way to protect my family, I had hurt them enough, put them through years of torture as they tried to understand why I wouldn't eat and why I would take razor blades to my flesh. I was ashamed of being raped, ashamed of the "marriage" to a bad man, I blamed myself for my mom's death thinking if I could have been better she wouldn't have needed to drink and would still be alive, and I lost hope that life could be anything but pain. It hurt so bad just to breathe and I didn't know how to reach out or how to ask for help mainly because I feared the response that poor girl got on YouTube even worse I feared it from the people who truly loved and cared about me. The hurt little girl trapped way down inside my twenty three year old body wanted to hear from her daddy that she wasn't dirty for what that guy did to her, it wasn't her fault, and mainly wanted it to be real to others besides her. She had been hurt and no one stood up for her and it made the shame that much worse. That same little girl inside of me wanted her dad to be there holding her as she watched her mother get put into the earth like she had been holding her five year old sister. It was like everyone pretended none of it happened, but the problem was I couldn't forget and I still can't. If I died I wouldn't have to see the images of him in my head or her laying in that hospital bed thrashing around instinctively trying to pull her wrists out of the restraints.
I think about that day a lot and I am so happy that I didn't succeed, I was given another chance at life. I lied to myself awhile after that saying it was a mistake, I wasn't paying attention, or I just wanted to sleep. Four years later I see it for what it was, I tried to commit suicide and I knew what I was doing. Life became too painful to keep going and I was convinced I was removing a burden out of everyone's lives, no more anorexic Andrea bleeding and being crazy causing upheaval in everyone's lives. During that time I didn't need to hear I was stupid, going to burn in hell, or to have someone antagonizing me acting like I wouldn't do it especially random strangers like on that YouTube video. Suicide is a tragedy, not only does it rob someone of their life, but all the questions left for the people who loved them. You get to spend the rest of your life wondering if you couldn't have done something to save them, and will never have peace. It is a tough subject to approach and it has to be done very carefully. This day and age the age of people killing themselves is dropping dramatically, 14 and 15 year olds are ending their lives before they begin. The only way to lower the number of suicides that happen each day is for people to show compassion rather than judgment. I was saved by a girl I've never even heard her voice, but she spoke up and followed her gut and I am here because of it. I've been the person who has lost all hope and thinks death is the only way out and today I cherish everyday I have to watch my toddler grow and smile. I want to live with everything in, which makes it even more of a tragedy when you think about those who succeed because with help they could be here today appreciating their life. I know it is cliché but the organization TWLOHA had it right when they said, "Love is the Movement".
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