STORY OF MY LIFE

ENOUGH WITH THE SUICIDE! YOU GUYS DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS! YOU NEVER LIVED IT, TRIED IT! HAVE YOU? HAVE YOU? NO! YOU'VE NEVER KNOWN WHAT ITS LIKE TO PHYSICALLY WANT TO DIE.

...none of you-as far as I'm aware-has gone that far. If you are, speak up. I wanna share what this is like. It's not something to joke about. It's not something to say you're going to do if you're not. So shut up, suck it up and listen.

My first time I tried to kill myself (sad I had to say first time?) I was eight years old. I remember standing in front of the door to my room and sinking to my knees. I remember the tears as they blurred my eyes. I remember the pain and the anger...everything's blurry, my child hood is a little repressed guys, sorry. I remember how badly I wanted it. I tried and tried to shove the safety scissors into my heart and how hard and quietly I cried when I kept failing. I was a failure that didn't deserve to live. I remember hearing the voices of my family members down stairs, and how they were oblivious to what I was doing. I remember hearing them complaining about what I'd done wrong. I tried harder....

Second time was almost identical. I was in front of my closet with the safety scissors again. I remember whispering through the tears (by now, after every night of crying, I had learned to sob violently and softly) "I want to die...I want to die!"

There were other times to that I don't remember as well. My last time was 2010, October. I stuck a plastic bag and put it over my head. After two minutes I took it off because I got scared. What was really sad was after that, if I hadn't met the criteria I wanted to meet, I gave myself another date which to attempt suicide. I wrote it on my calendar. "LAST DAY" in bright green letters.

I haven't tried since the day with the bag. I have to remind myself that if I kill myself, how much joy will I take away? Not from my loved ones now, they would get over it, I know. They don't care that much. It was one of the reasons I wanted to leave. But, my husband...how long would he be lonely? And my unborn children? And their children? and theirs? How many lives would I be catching with that one plastic bag? How many of God's plans shattered? I'll never know unless I live.

I hope this sheds some light on the subject. I hope you learn from my mistakes.

-MEG GIRY