Let's Talk About Suicide!

In my previous post, I wrote about how dark the year 2016 was for me, and in honor of National Suicide Prevention Week, I wanted to share this one moment with you guys. 

From what I can recall, the day was quite a beautiful one and from my window, I could see my friends walking around this tree that bloomed the most beautiful white flowers I had ever seen. Actually, if I close my eyes right now I can smell their strong perfume, it engulfed me, bewitching me to the point of wanting to smell nothing but that scent for the rest of my life, but that might’ve been the impending asthma attack from all that pollen. I still loved that smell though. My friends’ laughter rang so loud I could hear it through the thick glass. I remember feeling jealous of that laughter, so undeniably happy, a contrast to everything that I was. I remember that realization making my chest tighten, and my breathing get shallow. My eyes started to water, and I felt like my skin itch as if it was a few sizes too small. This had been the 100th time this exact feeling had came over me but somehow that day I guess I wasn’t strong enough to fight back. I just wanted it to stop, I wanted to feel something other than emptiness, and anger with just enough self loathing to rival any 19th century poet. I decided then that I wasn’t going to feel like that another day.

I remember frantically running around looking for my razor blades that were neatly stored in a lime green pouch with an army green bow on it, it was my favorite color. I tore apart my room and bathroom cabinet looking but I couldn’t find it. 3 hours later I found myself on the floor of my closet surrounded by a wreckage, that could be seen as a visual representation of my mind at that time, I realized that I had been crying the whole time. I felt pathetic, almost like I had yet again confirmed my own failures to myself and so I got up and kept looking. I was a whole mess to be honest, my eyebrows were nowhere to be seen, all I had on was this crusty shirt that was 10 years old, I was in dire need of a shower. I was the visual representation of desperate. I looked for 3 more hours until I completely drained myself enough to fall asleep. When I opened my eyes and came face to face with that green pouch lying peacefully on the floor on the foot of my bed I was overwhelmed with this sense of disappointment. I had failed, and just the thought of living another as myself was heartbreaking.

I actually remember checking my phone that morning and seeing the texts from my friends and family and feeling so ashamed that I had to live another day being a burden to them. I had to walk around another day like I couldn’t feel the 100 college textbooks sized weight on my chest. Or the fact that I was failing high school, and all my parents’ efforts to give me a better future is going down the toilet. I knew the people I was leaving behind but at that moment I genuinely believed that they would be better off without me. I just wanted all of it to stop and that is essentially what suicide looked like to me: a way out.

I share this story because around this time my timeline gets flooded with a wave of pictures and posts like the one above, talking about the selfishness of suicide or how “it just transfers the pain to the people who care about you”. My favorite one being the “think about those that you’re leaving behind”. All you are telling us is that what we are feeling is our fault and that we should control them. These posts are meant to instill guilt in people who are suffering, and all it does is make them feel like they can’t come to you in their time of need. Nobody deserves to be made to feel bad about their feelings especially someone who is fighting suicidal thoughts and ideation. The kind of pain someone has to be in for suicide to be the only solution that they see is far more complex for a note on a bridge to fix for some of us. That kind of emptiness is suffocating, every breath you take feels like nails, the color drains from your world, and suddenly everything that made you who you are disappears and all you find yourself left with is the emptiness. It’s not that I didn’t know that I was loved or cared for, it’s that I didn’t love and care about me. I thought I was doing them a service by not being around, and that right there is the power of the dark. People going through those times can only see the world through a window painted by their mind, it’s hard to see all the reasons to live when all you can see are the reasons to leave. It’s hard to hold on to life when you don’t really want to be in it. Seeing posts like that especially when you’re a survivor brings this feeling of guilt, that frankly doesn’t help with healing. Yes, suicide leaves a lot of suffering, but how can we prevent that and not shame us?

Language is an incredibly powerful thing that when used incorrectly can cause a lot of damage, especially when discussing matters as fragile as suicide and mental health. People on the edge don’t want to hear that they are selfish, sinners, or that they should think about others or any other variation of those phrases. Find them before they get to that edge and show them a reason to live for themselves. Become a safe space for people to come to, educate yourself on the realities of suicide and mental health. We need to create a conversation about suicide without the shaming or guilt tripping. We need to create a world where people like me can share their stories and feel loved and accepted, but that can only happen when we change the language that we use with people fighting suicide ideation and attempts. And so to the person reading this that might be contemplating ending their life, I understand and love you. There are so many resources out there that are in place to help people like us, whether it be a professional, friend or family please reach out to any of them. You are not alone, and there are other ways to make the pain stop. Suicide is not the only answer. Below are resources in both Rwanda and the United States that you can reach out to and my contact information will be listed as well if you just need a friendly ear.

Remember there is no shame in suicide or mental health, but there is shame in shaming others.