Suicide

So, it's 2:30 AM, and I need to write something.  I know I wanted to take a few steps back from "emo Penny," but something just happened.

You see, when I left my therapist's office on Friday, he made sure to give me his number, and asked me if I thought I was a danger to myself or anyone else.  I said "no."  He asked me if I ever thought of suicide, and I told him.  I'd never said it out loud before, but I told him.  But I also told him that I promised I would never, ever do it.  And I keep my promises.  I may not be reliable every single day, but my word is my bond.  Maybe it's a part of my OCD or something, but I can never break a promise.

One of the reasons I delayed in taking my life all those years ago, was that it would be hard to do.  Anything I could think of would be painful and difficult to pull off successfully.  So, I waited until I was desperate enough to do it.  But since that promise, though I have thought about it more than I'd like to count, every time I'm reminded that I made a promise, and so I won't even let myself think about it.

Man, this is harder than I thought it would be.  You see, tonight, I was watching TV, and a character dramatically pulls out a gun and a bullet, and talks about killing himself, and then I remember, I remember months ago, finding a gun in my parents' safe.  I hadn't thought about it much then, I was just surprised, but tonight I realized how easy it would be, just to go and get it, and use it.  You see, I heard it takes 80 milliseconds for your brain to register what's happening.  That means I'll be dead before I have time to feel it.

I'm so ashamed.  I promised I wouldn't even think about it anymore, and yet here I am.  And my life isn't half as bad as it was back then.  I know what's wrong with me now, I didn't back then.  I have a therapist and everything, so everything's going to be okay, but I'm thinking about it anyway.  Thinking about how easy it would be, how it would all just be over.  I could do it in the back yard so my parents wouldn't have to clean up the house after me, and I PROMISED.  I promised.  I promised.  I promised.

I don't understand why this is happening.  I'm happier now than I was then.  I really am.  I have things I love to do now, that I can do, like singing and writing.  I have a family I know loves me.  I didn't know for sure back then.  But I know it would kill them to see me do this to myself.

I tried telling myself the things that people are supposed to say to people on the ledge, like "it'll get better," and "you don't really want to," and "you promised, Penny, and you've never broken a promise.  This would be the worst possible time to start."  But none of it was working.  I'm not even sure how much I actually wanted to do it (I didn't go and get the gun yet, my parents are sleeping down there), but the fact that I couldn't get it out of my mind was disturbing me.

Then I started praying.  I don't want to offend anyone with this, but I love God with all my heart.  He saved me from myself when I was fourteen and alone.  He's taken care of me, and led me to be the person I am today, which, despite my flaws, is a million times better than who I once was, and I owe him everything and more.

But tonight, I started thinking about what I thought about that first time, about Hell.  I believe that if you kill yourself, and you're not truly sick (I don't know how God judges these things), then you're going to Hell.  And do you know what that means to me?  It means that whatever state you were in when you died, is what you're going to be stuck in for the rest of eternity.  So, if you die feeling trapped in your own head, you're gonna stay that way.  On the other hand, if you die striving to be the best possible person you can be, continually growing and improving, than that's how it's going to be in the next life.

Then, of all things, I started thinking about you guys.  I thought, "what's the point of this whole thing, if it ends with you killing yourself?  How in the world is that supposed to help people?"  I don't know if anyone's going to read this, but if they do, I hope it helps them.

If you're thinking about suicide, please, please, don't do it.  Talk to someone.  Call someone.  Know that whatever it is, whatever hell you're in right now, it has an end.  You can crawl your way out of it.  Ask for help: we all need it sometimes.  I feel like a hypocrite for saying that, since I fought tooth and nail against it, but I'm here.  Get help.  Better yet, give help.  The times when I've been the least wrapped up in my own pain was when someone I loved was hurting.  Find someone to help, even if it's a stranger.  It's amazing what that can do.  That's what I'm doing right now, and look: I'm not even crying anymore, and the feeling is passing.  I'll be okay tonight.

Thank you so much for reading.  I don't know if this post is more for you guys, or me, but there it is.  Just keep breathing in and out.  I'm going to make another promise, and I don't take it lightly.  I promise you, all of you, that I won't do it.  Because that would be a pretty sucky way to end this blog, especially when I'm trying to help people.  I promise that I'm going to hold on, every time I'm tempted, and when it's not enough to do it for me, then I'll do it for you, whoever you are, because I know somebody out there is having as bad, or worse a time as me, and sometimes all it takes to be strong is to know that there's someone out there who will not give up, no matter what.

I love you guys.
Penny