I'm going to write about the first time I attempted suicide. If it wasn't for my best friend and my own mental strength, I wouldn't be here today.
Trigger Warning: This take includes talk of mental illness, self harm and suicide. If you suffer from a mental illness or are suicidal, I suggest you see a therapist. If you need this warning, don't read my story.
When I was 12 years old, I started writing. I sat down at the computer and began writing a story of a little girl running away. The reader along with myself, didn't know what she was running away from. Once I finished, we found out she was running from a monster chasing her. Little did I realize that in three years, I'd be running from a monster of my own...a monster called depression.
When I was around 13 and 14 years old, my fathers abuse began. I was an innocent girl, I was writing and I was getting all good grades in school. My father slowly began to push me to the outside. Taking his wife's side with everything yet coming to me behind her back to tell me why, which only confused me more. He'd call me ungrateful if I was tired after school and wanted to take a nap.
Eventually it worked up to me not being able to write anymore-I lost the will to- and I couldn't even do my homework. He'd keep me so busy, chopping wood or doing something "manly" outside with him to work on my "muscles" that I eventually didn't ever have time to do homework. Once my grades started slipping, he took away everything I could use as communication, he made me do more work around the house/outside and he treated me like shit. He'd slap me every now and then and he'd call me small insults like a "little bitch" and "ungrateful asshole." I couldn't stand who he was becoming and I couldn't stand what he was turning me into. Everyday I wanted to run away. And this was in the beginning with the light shit too.
By the time I was 14 almost 15, the insults and slapping became worse. He'd even spank me, whether it was with his hand or his belt, and he told me "You're writing is stupid. Don't ever come to me with a story you wrote because you'll never be an author. Your dreams of travelling the world is a piece of shit." That was the moment my heart broke for the very first time, and that was when I began to realize how big of an asshole my dad was. I was beginning to hate my father.
I ended up resorting to self harm by this time. I'd light a lighter until the metal was unbearably hot and I'd touch to my inner thighs. I'd do this almost 12 times a day by that time because I was so depressed. I didn't cut/really burn myself because if anything happened (I was always optimistic) I didn't want to leave too many marks and if I did leave markings, I didn't want it to be too noticeable.
I was still living in the city at the time as a freshman. I was bullied all of my school life, I had one good friend who only became my friend in 3rd grade simply out of pity. She was my best friend though and all I had. She would walk right into my house and I hers.
One day I had enough. I was terribly depressed but my father believed I was simply trying to get attention. No shit! That's all I wanted! Some positive attention but I wouldn't use depression as a way to get attention from my own father...that shouldn't be what I'd need to do in the first place. On that day, I was just sick of my life.
My father takes Tylenol like it's candy, so we had a large 500 bottle of them, along with Ibuprofen, Midol and Excedrin. I knew exactly what I could-and needed, so desperately needed- to do. I grabbed all of the pills I could, even the leftover sleeping pills. My heart was breaking as I replayed my fathers words...and fists...over and over again in my head. "You're a stupid twat." "I fucking hate you Jade." "If you tell anyone I've left marks on you, I'll make your life fucking miserable." Too late Dad. My life is miserable already. Because of him, he gave me abandonment issues, trust issues, anxiety, depression, and severe self esteem problems. (Now that I live with my mother she wants me to see a therapist because of the mental issues my father gave me.)
When I was home alone the following day after school, I made sure to go in my room and lie on my bed after swallowing a large mixture of all the pills I could find. I took as many as I allowed myself, which ended up being over 100 of all of the pills I could find in the house. My best friend, we'll call her R, came into my house because she knew they weren't home because their cars weren't there.
R came upstairs and as I was laying in bed, allowing the pills to do their job, she came into my room. She saw me laying on my bed and didn't think much of it. R began talking to me about how she was gonna go down to Texas this weekend for a family thing. Almost immediately she realized what was next to my bed (something I tried to hide) 3 of the pill bottles along with one shoved between my bed and the wall.
At the time I was only 90 pounds, I never ate much besides a dinner every now and then because my father made me hate how I looked and would make fun of my weight. So it was no surprise she was able to pull me out of my bed, I was too weak at the time to try to fight against my cheerleading-softball playing best friend. R rushed me to the bathroom and she made me puke up the pills. She forced me to puke, as in she shoved her finger down my throat till I was dry-heaving after have almost literally puking my guts out.
Sobbing her eyes out, she held me when it was all out of my system and gave me a large cup of water to drink. She pet my hair and cried to me, and I explained to her why I was so depressed, to the point I wanted to die and I couldn't even tell her.
Once she googled how to take care of me and did everything she could, we sat in my room and talked about everything going on until my father came home from work after picking up my brothers from their grandparents.
That was my first suicide attempt, I've never told anybody about it before. R and I were the only people to know until now, now that I'm sharing it with you.
R, thank you so much for saving my life. You mean the world to me, even if we don't talk anymore. I'm always going to be here for you like you were for me. I love you <3