This Is My Life’s Story Part 8
Captain Jigglypuff
Registrant
This part is going to talk about suicide and a bit of me talking about self harm and full of triggers. I rarely ever talk in detail about the stuff in this part to anyone.
My Suicide Plan
As I have previously mentioned in my story, my senior year was essentially hell on earth for me. I was falling apart in so many ways and I had to keep myself together and pretend that everything was fine because I didn’t want to be blamed for being bullied again. The fundraisers for Garth’s recovery and the thoughts I were having associated with it just kept echoing in my head and taunting me even in school. I just needed to get away from everything and I figured suicide was pretty much my only option as I knew that I couldn’t run away given my dad is pretty well known in the area as an Asian import car expert and has connections everywhere and I had no place else I could run to and hide without someone calling my family and saying where I was. I didn’t want to use a gun because the sound of one going off has always scared me. Pills were thrown out of my ideas of how to kill myself because all I really had were Ritalin which was not going to be lethal if I swallowed the entire bottle or Prozac. There were never any sleeping pills. I didn’t like the idea of hanging myself and there was no place high enough in the house that I could reach up to throw whatever I used to do it. I didn’t know that some victims jumped off of high places to kill themselves. Which basically left cutting my wrist as the only option I knew about.
So I started using Ask Jeeves (anyone remember that search engine) if it would be considered suicide if someone starved themselves and I even asked this question on a forum for teens with depression but I phrased my question “Are anorexics committing suicide if they starve themselves to death?” and “If a person dies from starvation during a hunger strike, is that considered to be a suicide?” No one knew that I was asking about starvation because I was originally going to do it but then I realized that would take too long and I could always be forced to eat thus ruining my plan. But I still wanted to kill myself just to escape from everything. I had known for a couple years that cutting your wrist could kill you after the daughter of a friend of Maria’s had tried to kill herself by cutting herself with a paper clip in school I believe. She was discovered and placed into the hospital for treatment. She also admitted to being a cutter. This was the first time I had ever heard about self harm and how a cut on the wrists could kill you and people committed suicide that way. So I figured that was my only option but I really didn’t want to do it at home.
Then one day, I was my usua emotionless self just sitting at my assigned table lost in the thoughts that kept plaguing me when I heard her say that our next recipe would involve knives which suddenly got my attention. I saw this as my only chance to try to kill myself and maybe see if one person cared enough to stop me. So I wrote a note to myself to volunteer to be the dishwasher because then I could have full access to the knife while not being required to do a lot of work. It was the easiest chore to do during the prep and cooking days of the class. I was ready to stand my ground and insist on being the dishwasher if necessary but no one else wanted the job. My plan was to just cut myself with the knife and only stop it if a single person saw and stopped me and actually listen to me for once which I was really really hoping someone would do. If not then I’d go out similar to the ending of the Pearl Jam video Jeremy in front of a classroom of people and make them realize what their actions and not trying to help me or trying to stop the bullying whenever they saw it happen had forced me to do. I kept going over the plan for the next couple of days. The day that the class would be using knives had finally come and I was ready.
I sat at the table and just started humming to myself a bit while I used a pen to draw a dotted line across my left wrist. You’d think someone would have noticed that because it was so random and an odd thing to do. I was determined to go through with my plan and told myself the only way I would stop is if someone notices me and stops me and asks me why I wanted to do it to which I could finally tell someone what was going on inside my head constantly. I never wrote a suicide note. It was pretty clear that I was already suicidal and I did say out loud a few times how I thought people would be happier without me. This is the first clue that something was definitely wrong with me that everyone else should have noticed. I was actually showing an emotion that wasn’t apathy and I was humming which I never did. I only had one chance to pull off my plan and I didn’t want to screw it up. So my group’s cook and helpers were following the recipe and I waited and washed the utensils as they were done being used until they were done with the knife. It was the chef’s knife and I washed it and dried it and then just stood there and held it. I stared at the blade and then raised my left arm palm facing upwards to just cut on the dotted line. I just stood there staring at the blade and I was in a pretty well lit area and where everyone could see me. I wasn’t hiding in some dark corner in the room. I was facing forward towards everyone in the room. It felt like time had slowed down greatly and I was aware of what everyone was doing in that classroom. Not one of them noticed me holding this large knife and standing still as I just flipped it back to front staring at the blade. I was hoping someone one would notice me and just tell me to stop and listen to me for once and showed me that someone actually cared about me. I just wanted to tell someone how unhappy I really was and all about the horrible thoughts that had been plaguing me for months. I was at a breaking point and I really needed help. And because no one noticed me standing there holding and staring at the knife, I just wanted to kill myself even more. I remember looking at the dotted line on my wrist and thinking how easy it would be to place the blade on my skin and just slice across the line. I then began to wonder if I even had the right location to cut myself in order to kill myself and what if I messed up like I always seemed to do? Tears then began to fall as I continued to stand there staring at the knife. I was locked to that spot on the floor. It really hurt to see that absolutely no one cared enough about me to notice this very obvious cry for help. I wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that I was planning on cutting myself with the knife. During the chore/job selection for the group, I showed signs that I wanted to be the dishwasher because I could then access the knives because I was extremely eager to do it and I immediately said that I wanted to do it before anyone had asked what job everyone had wanted. I wanted to cut muse but something kept holding me back. It definitely wasn’t the thought of my family or Maria and i definitely wasn’t thinking about how my suicide would affect everyone else. I just wanted to cut my wrist now with a goal to not only die but as a form of revenge for everyone not noticing my cry for help that was out in the open literally right in front of them and make them feel guilty for not caring enough to about me to even try to help me. During the days before i had access to the knife, I was acting different and I admit that I said some pretty mean things to a girl in the class that was always mean to me and her friend came to her defense saying how I should stop saying such mean things to her friend and all I said was “Oh so you’ll defend your friend when someone says mean things to her but who defends me when everyone else especially your friend says mean things to me and throw things at me? No one.” This stunned the girl and it was obvious that she knew that I was right. No one even cared enough to stop kids from bullying me when they saw it happening. This girl didn’t make fun of me or say those five little words that I was constantly hearing whenever I tried to say something but she was still part of the problem because she saw her friend bully me and did or said nothing to stop it or to see if I was okay. I just wanted everyone to pay for either bullying me or their inactivity to stop the bullying and seeing if I was even okay. I just stood there holding that knife for at least half of the class period and not once did I see anyone looking in my direction and noticing me or even whispering asking each other if something was wrong and that maybe someone should say or do something to help me because it was extremely concerning that I’m just standing there doing nothing else but staring at the knife. Eventually I just gave up and put the knife away and kept silent the rest of the day with the knowledge that I was right when I had told myself that absolutely no one in that school cared about me and would be happier without me. It felt horrible knowing this was true and I had confirmation of this fact. I also felt extremely guilty for the thought that I was being selfish because I had just wanted someone to stop me and tell me that they cared about me and that I mattered.
So I tried to repress it for years and never talked about except once in the self harm group but all I said was that no one noticed my cry for help and I felt selfish for wanting someone to tell me that they cared about me. Maria never knew I did this and my family didn’t know. No one but me knew about this aborted suicide attempt. My sister still doesn’t even know about this and I’ve pretty much told her everything that happened to me in that school including the sexual assault and being severely bullied. I did tell Garth about the attempt though and he told me if he had known how I was feeling back then and about the bullying , he would have done something to stop it as he was “the big man on campus” and everyone would have listened to him. This is part of why I’m afraid to tell him about how his accident affected me and I never told him that the thought and emotions I was having about it was a major reason why I had wanted to kill myself. I just wanted to escape from all the pain.
Next time I will describe my home life after my dad got remarried and what led me into refusing to go home one day and why I moved into the group home.
My Suicide Plan
As I have previously mentioned in my story, my senior year was essentially hell on earth for me. I was falling apart in so many ways and I had to keep myself together and pretend that everything was fine because I didn’t want to be blamed for being bullied again. The fundraisers for Garth’s recovery and the thoughts I were having associated with it just kept echoing in my head and taunting me even in school. I just needed to get away from everything and I figured suicide was pretty much my only option as I knew that I couldn’t run away given my dad is pretty well known in the area as an Asian import car expert and has connections everywhere and I had no place else I could run to and hide without someone calling my family and saying where I was. I didn’t want to use a gun because the sound of one going off has always scared me. Pills were thrown out of my ideas of how to kill myself because all I really had were Ritalin which was not going to be lethal if I swallowed the entire bottle or Prozac. There were never any sleeping pills. I didn’t like the idea of hanging myself and there was no place high enough in the house that I could reach up to throw whatever I used to do it. I didn’t know that some victims jumped off of high places to kill themselves. Which basically left cutting my wrist as the only option I knew about.
So I started using Ask Jeeves (anyone remember that search engine) if it would be considered suicide if someone starved themselves and I even asked this question on a forum for teens with depression but I phrased my question “Are anorexics committing suicide if they starve themselves to death?” and “If a person dies from starvation during a hunger strike, is that considered to be a suicide?” No one knew that I was asking about starvation because I was originally going to do it but then I realized that would take too long and I could always be forced to eat thus ruining my plan. But I still wanted to kill myself just to escape from everything. I had known for a couple years that cutting your wrist could kill you after the daughter of a friend of Maria’s had tried to kill herself by cutting herself with a paper clip in school I believe. She was discovered and placed into the hospital for treatment. She also admitted to being a cutter. This was the first time I had ever heard about self harm and how a cut on the wrists could kill you and people committed suicide that way. So I figured that was my only option but I really didn’t want to do it at home.
Then one day, I was my usua emotionless self just sitting at my assigned table lost in the thoughts that kept plaguing me when I heard her say that our next recipe would involve knives which suddenly got my attention. I saw this as my only chance to try to kill myself and maybe see if one person cared enough to stop me. So I wrote a note to myself to volunteer to be the dishwasher because then I could have full access to the knife while not being required to do a lot of work. It was the easiest chore to do during the prep and cooking days of the class. I was ready to stand my ground and insist on being the dishwasher if necessary but no one else wanted the job. My plan was to just cut myself with the knife and only stop it if a single person saw and stopped me and actually listen to me for once which I was really really hoping someone would do. If not then I’d go out similar to the ending of the Pearl Jam video Jeremy in front of a classroom of people and make them realize what their actions and not trying to help me or trying to stop the bullying whenever they saw it happen had forced me to do. I kept going over the plan for the next couple of days. The day that the class would be using knives had finally come and I was ready.
I sat at the table and just started humming to myself a bit while I used a pen to draw a dotted line across my left wrist. You’d think someone would have noticed that because it was so random and an odd thing to do. I was determined to go through with my plan and told myself the only way I would stop is if someone notices me and stops me and asks me why I wanted to do it to which I could finally tell someone what was going on inside my head constantly. I never wrote a suicide note. It was pretty clear that I was already suicidal and I did say out loud a few times how I thought people would be happier without me. This is the first clue that something was definitely wrong with me that everyone else should have noticed. I was actually showing an emotion that wasn’t apathy and I was humming which I never did. I only had one chance to pull off my plan and I didn’t want to screw it up. So my group’s cook and helpers were following the recipe and I waited and washed the utensils as they were done being used until they were done with the knife. It was the chef’s knife and I washed it and dried it and then just stood there and held it. I stared at the blade and then raised my left arm palm facing upwards to just cut on the dotted line. I just stood there staring at the blade and I was in a pretty well lit area and where everyone could see me. I wasn’t hiding in some dark corner in the room. I was facing forward towards everyone in the room. It felt like time had slowed down greatly and I was aware of what everyone was doing in that classroom. Not one of them noticed me holding this large knife and standing still as I just flipped it back to front staring at the blade. I was hoping someone one would notice me and just tell me to stop and listen to me for once and showed me that someone actually cared about me. I just wanted to tell someone how unhappy I really was and all about the horrible thoughts that had been plaguing me for months. I was at a breaking point and I really needed help. And because no one noticed me standing there holding and staring at the knife, I just wanted to kill myself even more. I remember looking at the dotted line on my wrist and thinking how easy it would be to place the blade on my skin and just slice across the line. I then began to wonder if I even had the right location to cut myself in order to kill myself and what if I messed up like I always seemed to do? Tears then began to fall as I continued to stand there staring at the knife. I was locked to that spot on the floor. It really hurt to see that absolutely no one cared enough about me to notice this very obvious cry for help. I wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that I was planning on cutting myself with the knife. During the chore/job selection for the group, I showed signs that I wanted to be the dishwasher because I could then access the knives because I was extremely eager to do it and I immediately said that I wanted to do it before anyone had asked what job everyone had wanted. I wanted to cut muse but something kept holding me back. It definitely wasn’t the thought of my family or Maria and i definitely wasn’t thinking about how my suicide would affect everyone else. I just wanted to cut my wrist now with a goal to not only die but as a form of revenge for everyone not noticing my cry for help that was out in the open literally right in front of them and make them feel guilty for not caring enough to about me to even try to help me. During the days before i had access to the knife, I was acting different and I admit that I said some pretty mean things to a girl in the class that was always mean to me and her friend came to her defense saying how I should stop saying such mean things to her friend and all I said was “Oh so you’ll defend your friend when someone says mean things to her but who defends me when everyone else especially your friend says mean things to me and throw things at me? No one.” This stunned the girl and it was obvious that she knew that I was right. No one even cared enough to stop kids from bullying me when they saw it happening. This girl didn’t make fun of me or say those five little words that I was constantly hearing whenever I tried to say something but she was still part of the problem because she saw her friend bully me and did or said nothing to stop it or to see if I was okay. I just wanted everyone to pay for either bullying me or their inactivity to stop the bullying and seeing if I was even okay. I just stood there holding that knife for at least half of the class period and not once did I see anyone looking in my direction and noticing me or even whispering asking each other if something was wrong and that maybe someone should say or do something to help me because it was extremely concerning that I’m just standing there doing nothing else but staring at the knife. Eventually I just gave up and put the knife away and kept silent the rest of the day with the knowledge that I was right when I had told myself that absolutely no one in that school cared about me and would be happier without me. It felt horrible knowing this was true and I had confirmation of this fact. I also felt extremely guilty for the thought that I was being selfish because I had just wanted someone to stop me and tell me that they cared about me and that I mattered.
So I tried to repress it for years and never talked about except once in the self harm group but all I said was that no one noticed my cry for help and I felt selfish for wanting someone to tell me that they cared about me. Maria never knew I did this and my family didn’t know. No one but me knew about this aborted suicide attempt. My sister still doesn’t even know about this and I’ve pretty much told her everything that happened to me in that school including the sexual assault and being severely bullied. I did tell Garth about the attempt though and he told me if he had known how I was feeling back then and about the bullying , he would have done something to stop it as he was “the big man on campus” and everyone would have listened to him. This is part of why I’m afraid to tell him about how his accident affected me and I never told him that the thought and emotions I was having about it was a major reason why I had wanted to kill myself. I just wanted to escape from all the pain.
Next time I will describe my home life after my dad got remarried and what led me into refusing to go home one day and why I moved into the group home.