Please give yourself at least 24 hours to think about it, because there's a small part of you that knows your wrong. Feelings alone will not kill you but they will definitely cloud your judgement.
I'm sharing my story in case it might help someone feel less alone.
I remember my first suicide ideation like it happened yesterday. It was May 1991. I was about to turn 10 years old and I was more than ready to end it all. I had had enough of living with my alcoholic parents who seemed to hate me. I just couldn't stomach one more insult, one more painful reminder that I wasn't wanted.
There were four bars in our little town and I knew each of their phone numbers by heart. My parents were never home. Instead they'd go out to the bars most nights. I would wait until I couldn't stand it and then start calling, usually around midnight. The bartenders would usually put my mom on the phone but sometimes they'd lie for her. That was the worst. My heart would be pounding. Not only was it dark outside but I was home alone with my little sister.
"Hey JoDee!!" I'd hear the bartender shout over the music, "phone's for ya". "Huh? Ugh, tell her I'm not here" my mom would slur back. "Haven't seen her" they'd casually tell a terrified kid looking for their mom.
When they made it home they'd be completely trashed. For as poor as we were I have no idea how they afforded their booze. Not only did they drink at bars but the fridge was perpetually stocked with beer and boxed wine, the cupboard with vodka. If they didn't pass out they'd end up in a huge, violent fight. I would try to get them to stop, then I'd call 911.
So when my birthday was nearing I couldn't fathom why I should stick around. I would do chores until the drama started. Patiently waiting for the alcohol to kick in and hate to emanate from my step-dad, Mike. It seemed he hated my guts and could never quite control that intense feeling from surfacing every moment I was in his presence. My mom was a little better, she'd make sure I was fed dinner. But she couldn't contain her disdain for me. I ruined her childhood and I was a pain in the ass. I had been colichy, bit her toe once really hard and was too smart for my own good. I constantly had her on her toes which she really didn't appreciate.
My plan had been to shoot myself in the head on my 10th birthday. The pistol I was going to use was kept in the hall closet with ammunition. I wrote my suicide note that morning before school. I said goodbye to my little sister. I loved her to death but knew she, like the rest of the world, would be better off without a bad person like me.
When I arrived home from school Mike was already there. He got off work early that day. I couldn't believe it, he was never home early. I took it as a sign that I shouldn't kill myself. So I didn't until October 2005.
It's not that I didn't think about suicide after my first botched attempt. I would find myself entertaining the idea often. I felt it every time I was banished to my room for the day. Doesn't sound so bad, and it wouldn't have been, but I could overhear from my room all the nasty comments my parents made about me. It's tough to be criticized. It's excruciating when it comes from those that are supposed to love you. The thought that constantly crossed my mind was "If my mom doesn't love me, who will?". I didn't have an answer but I knew it certainly wasn't me.
Four years later I attended homecoming with my new boyfriend, Jacob. He was a junior that drove his own car and offered me a ride to school. One morning he brought a dozen roses with him and asked me to the dance. I ecstatically said yes, trying to conceal how lucky I felt to carry roses with me to school that day.
I brought my homecoming pictures with me to visit my family three hours South. Dad loved them but when I asked if I could take them to my cousin's place my dad said no. He was adamant that I not see him. My cousin had been in a lot of trouble lately and I felt that he needed his family to support him but dad disagreed.
After dad left my grandma gave me a ride to my cousin's house anyway. I showed my cousin my Homecoming pictures, excited to show him my new boyfriend. I brought my new Alannis Morrisette CD with me as well, not realizing it would be the soundtrack of my rape, my first sexual experience.
I was horribly ashamed. I didn't speak more than a few words to anyone until I saw Jacob two days later. Being the upstanding and responsible person he is, Jacob dragged me to the counselor's office. I was then sent to the police station for a report and the hospital to have my genitals probed with a magnifying glass by a group of nurses. The shame seemed to never end.
My grandparents were notified and made the decision to never tell my dad what happened. To say I felt horrible would be a huge understatement. Not only did I disobey my dad, but my cousin, who he already had issues with, raped me while I disobeyed him. It was a double whammy.
The only time I ventured South during the next year was for the deposition. My grandparents told everyone they were going to the beach so no one would know I was in town. I felt like a shameful secret.
Even though you might think you're right about this doesn't mean you can't talk it out with someone in the meantime. You're worth that, every single person is worth a conversation. 1.800.273.8255 to talk it out.