WARNING: This letter contains details about suicide that may distress or trigger some readers.
This July, I felt lonely. I said a big goodbye to my partner. My children didn’t speak to me. We needed a new location with very low rent and out of reach costs. I had a dead end job that paid very little but demanded a lot. I had a hard time enjoying my work because there was no sense that there should be fun in the workplace.
I had no one to talk to. My go-to told me how bad my life was and how I was stuck in a downward spiral.
I have decided to “end” this life. An exit pack of medicines was waiting for me. After a few glasses of wine, I wrote goodbye, organized my belongings, made a bed on the floor, and took my medicine.
I was most disappointed when I woke up in the morning. I was alive My ‘exit kit’ was over 8 years old for him and after years of freezing and thawing it was of little use.
I felt unlucky… I didn’t even manage to escape.
I took the empty wine bottles and wine glasses to the kitchen to clean them. I didn’t know what to do…I was still here.
I concentrated too much while washing the wine glass and it broke. One got into my skin. I felt nothing. My body was numb. Then I took a piece of glass and started cutting to see if I could cut an artery or vein…I know where it was…they were pulsating. No, but more than that, I was curious. Can you cut yourself and start bleeding, and then sit on deck and bleed?
I used a glass shard, but it didn’t work. I took a kitchen knife and tried to help cut more…but the knife was dull, the pulsing point was deeper than expected, and there were a lot of tendons in my wrist.
Disappointed, I gave up… I couldn’t do it right either.
I thought it was a failure of living, a failure of not living.
I cleaned up and went to the hospital for a wrist seam.It was a busy ER that day and no one noticed the glass insertion point and accepted my story. I was sutured, given band-aids, and sent on my way. No one really asked how I was.
I am over 60 years old. I’m struggling to find a job to pay my rent, bills, food and save a little. There is age discrimination in this town, people say I’m too qualified or too old to work with young people.
I have struggled with my life ever since. I skipped meds due to the fact that I can’t afford it and don’t want the side effects listed that the internet tells me.
I don’t want people to know I have “mental health issues”. I’m hard to get hired, I get talked about behind the scenes, and I’m labeled as someone who just needs to work hard and get over it.
There are natural medicines to help and remedies with them, and my days go on for weeks.
At work, I keep quiet…no one asked if I was okay. There seems to be
I tried to talk to my family and friends about my mental health without coming out directly and saying I had a problem.
I said I might have a chemical imbalance and need a little microdose to help me. I got
My story is not uncommon. I am well-educated and had some childhood traumas that I could not quite let go of.
We, the depressed hidden people, have a hard time.
Don’t make mental health a one day a year topic. We need to check how everyone is doing on a daily basis and make sure our conversations don’t leave stigma or the label of being “someone who needs to get over it”.
Some days are good, some days are not. I love hugs and I’m hoping someone will take care of me…on my bad days.
We need to take this more seriously. The year he begins to recognize mental health issues one day. there must be more.
There are many people who are troubled in life. Many homeless and low income people are doing very well.
I am educated and trained, but something is missing.
It starts with chatting. Reduce the stigma of “mental health” issues…and just check in….before you “check out”.
Let’s start talking.
I’m in the process of talking to a therapist right now…I have help…but I wish someone else would ask me, “How are you?”
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, call the Interior Crisis Line Network at 1-888-363-CARE (2273) or use our chat service. .com.
Editor’s Note: The identity of the author of this letter is being withheld due to the subject matter of this letter being highly personal.
mental health suicide crisis