We Survive: 1-800-273-8255
Good Morning Ladies,
I am in love with all these amazing stories you keep sending me. There is so much strength and empowerment from all of you. You all have a story and I love that you want to share your story with me! Thank you!
Here is her story
I don’t remember when the feelings of hopelessness started…when I did I think everyone initially wrote it off as teenage angst. My first suicide attempt was at the age of 15. I spent an amazing weekend with my aunt at the river then came home and went into an immediate downward spiral. My mom couldn’t figure out what happened considering I was just “so happy”.
I took handfuls of pills ending up in the hospital to have my stomach pumped, then in the children’s psychiatric ward. Then there was cutting, a physical distraction, and release from my emotional pain. I remember my kid brother walking in as I was cutting my wrists. I told him I accidentally cut myself and he immediately ran to my mom worried.
At that point, my mom hid all the knives (along with the pills she already hid). She lived in constant fear of the worst. I’m not sure if my 2nd attempt happened before or after I was diagnosed as bipolar and was put on so many medications that I became a ghost of who I used to be.
My mom was so scared, her only objective was keeping me alive. So there was that 2nd attempt, and the 2nd hospital stay. I took a box of sleeping pills hoping I would never wake up. I ended up in the hospital, psychotic, hallucinating, and asking for my mom as she was sitting right in front of me. The more medications they put me on the “better” I got.
Then one day a few months before my 17th birthday I found out I was pregnant. I had early complications giving me a 30% chance of carrying to term. My life became that baby, keeping her alive, keeping her safe. I went cold turkey off all my medications and prayed we would both make it through.
The pregnancy was extremely difficult, but in the end, I had a beautiful baby girl and a lifelong reason to live. She didn’t take away my bipolar disorder or my constant fight against hopelessness, but she was my saving grace. I could feel hopeless, but I could never leave this beautiful girl alone in this world without her mommy.
Now 17 years later I still struggle, but I am and always will be a survivor. It’s me against my brain telling me I can’t do it anymore. I can though because I have a reason.
Advice to those in the same situation: IT GETS BETTER. When you are alone with those tricky thoughts in your darkest moments telling you-you can no longer take the pain you can’t possibly imagine it will ever get better, but I promise, stay strong, persevere, and it WILL get better.
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