Memoires Of A Suicidal Teenager – Part 3
The morning after the night before arrived, too early if I am honest.
I used to start school at 7 AM, which meant I had to be up 4.30 AM to be out of the house for 5.15 and arrive at school any time between 6.15 and 6.30 AM.
I woke up feeling guilty and ashamed, I had failed at something that “seemed easy” and was “important” to me; not only that but once my mother found out I would be in trouble and she would think even less of me.
My routine started as usual, getting out of bed for 4.30 AM or earlier; I felt nauseous, the taste of pharmacy hadn’t escaped my mouth, the vacuum in my heart seemed greater than it had been the day before and I felt lonelier than ever.
I was a walking “zombie”, I looked like death, I smelled like a pharmacy and I was numb, physically and emotionally; no one seemed to “notice” anything different about me, my teenage classmates and other peers were too “busy” in their teenage lives to be able to realise somebody else’s “drama”, my drama!
I felt “invisible”, I felt “dead”; although, I hadn’t succeeded, the difference between been dead and where I was was that instead of being 6 ft under I was walking among the living.
Hey, Mr Vence, what’s up with you? This husky voice shouted at me…
I stood still, wondering if there was someone talking to me? It took me sometime to register it, when I did I turned around and glanced in that direction.
What’s up with you, it repeated.
Crap, I thought!
I avoided the biology teacher, sadly it was in vane; there was no escaping.
Hey, what’s up with you I asked!
A bit of background about my biology teacher, she was a cat and dog lady, loved by some students, hated by others; equally admired by some teachers and hated by others.
She would arrive first thing in the morning (and again late at night) to feed the dogs she had rescued; she would encourage her students to recycle cans and the money would go to good causes in the school itself and to feed the dogs at school. Simply remarkable!
Judith Atencio, was intense, in your face, loud, and very, very perceptive.
Why haven’t you brought your urine samples to the lab classes? (Apologies, it sounds pretty graphic but it was for an experiment).
Oh, I forgot I muttered as I started crying.
What’s the mattered with you? She asked with concern in her voice.
I tried to commit suicide yesterday and I failed, I feel disgusted, ashamed and guilty.
Her first reaction was to ask if I’d been to hospital to which I replied negatively.
She advised me to go, I simply declined.
We chatted for the duration of the break.
I felt relieved, I felt I had taken a massive weight off my shoulders. Though, I had promised myself to keep what happened as a secret, I needed to talk to someone, I had to release that “evil spell” out of me.
The day went better than I had anticipated, no one saw me different, no one could “guess” I had tried to commit suicide, I was making it out to be much bigger than it actually was.
That moment of honesty opened my mind and my heart to a new realm of possibilities. I just didn’t know it.
For the first time in my life I had been honest and it was “healing”, I was able to say I needed help and I didn’t die in the process, even when I had done so the day before.
I started to see a tiny spark of “hope” emerging from this situation. I didn’t know what would come out of it, but I went from wishing I wasn’t on this planet to wondering, what IF there is something else, something “better”, something “bigger”, what if I am supposed to grow stronger from this situation, what if, what if, what it…
It would be a massive lie if I said my life “changed” straight away, I could still feel the sinking hole in my chest, I felt unloved (even if someone had shown they cared), I felt alone (even when there were thousands around me), I felt vulnerable (when in fact there were many who were truly vulnerable), I felt shame and guilt (when I wasn’t the only one feeling it).
The 28th of March was the day of a new beginning, a new beginning of what or to what, I had no idea, I only knew that I didn’t die and the options were pretty slim, I either chose life or I chose the other option.
Had I changed? Had something changed? Who knew…
I was clear about one thing though, I was not going to be the priest’s prisoner and I was not going to be a victim.
How was I going to accomplish it? I had no idea, nor did I care, I had the desire to make it happen.
I had found someone who was willing to listen, and it got me thinking, were there others willing to listen and help me too?
I hope you have enjoyed today’s blog. More blogs as part of Memoires of a suicidal teenager are to follow.
Till next time,