this blog will be the most descriptive and probably the hardest to read. If you do not feel comfortable, please do not feel obligated to read on.
Suicide has never been an option for me. I have always known that whatever the obstacle, I could conquer it. I have seen first hand the effects that suicide can leave on the ones left behind, and I knew I would never cause someone that pain.
But, when your mind is so far gone and you cannot control it, it wanders. It wanders to the darkest of places - to the places you never thought you would face.
I woke up on Thursday, October 18th in a despair I had never felt before. I had once again woken up numb. These last few days I had just been living. I didn't put any effort into anything else. No makeup, no brushing my hair, and no showerring. I simply went to classes, and went back to my dorm. I hardly talked to anyone besides my roommate. I gave up on all the counseling advice because it simply was not working.
I woke up feeling nothing. No pain. No happiness. Nothing.
I had never felt this bad before. I looked at my countdown - still five weeks. Five weeks of this fucking shit. Five weeks of breathing and nothing else. Five weeks of utter darkness. Well, five weeks was too long.
I am never one to give up. But right there in my bed, I have up. Five minutes to get to class - who cares. Who cares about anything anymore to be honest. I tried so hard just to sit up, only to sit there. In the dim corner of the room.
You can only have so much strength.
I got up, and knew immediately that I needed my medication. This is where I lost control of my thoughts. It was like watching a scene in a movie. I pulled out my second drawer, found my antidepressant and just stared at it.
'Give it a few weeks.'
Well, my friend, I had. Why the hell was it not working? Why am I sinking deeper and deeper?
I shook the bottle to get the tablet into the lid, but a few more can with it.
'Take one tablet twice daily.'
One tablet huh? One fucking tablet? I knew what would happen if I took all the pills that had poured out. I knew very well what would happens if I took more than one....two....three....the whole bottle.
I did not care. For the first time, my depression won. For that moment, life was not worth living if it meant living in utter darkness. The battle was no longer worth it. The struggle was winning.
I wanted to take my own life. Sitting on the floor, feeling the rough carpet and the smooth tile beneath me, look at the countdown that was nowhere near where I needed it to be, looking at the mess of what I had become, I wanted to get out. Get out of it all. Not go to another stupid counseling session that gives me glimmer of hope only to leave and feel it disintegrate. Not to get out and go to music theory to learn the minor scales. Not to get out and even feel the sun. I wanted to get out of the whole situation. I had lost my strength. I had lost my fight, my desire to go on. Home was too far away, and if everyday in between was like this...I couldn't make it. Even when I would go home, after a few days I would be right back in this hell. Thanksgiving was too short of a time to really fight for.
'You can't do this anymore.'
I really believed that I couldn't. My depression had permeated into every part of me. I did not believe I could make it.
I had really hit rock bottom.
The hardest part of contemplating suicide for me was not weighing the pros of getting out of the darkness, but talking myself out of it.
What would you do if you thought you were going to die? If you had only a few moments...what would you do?
I opened the top drawer and took out a letter Kelly had written for me. She gave it to me that night before I left and I kept it close to me as much as I could. She talked about how much she loved me and how I had become her best friend. She talked about how she would always be there for me, no matter what.
When I looked up, I saw the picture that accompanied the letter. A picture of Kelly and I waiting for Toy Story Mania at Disneyland. My heart ached. How different things were now.
I wanted to be able to go to Disneyland with her again. I wanted to see Kelly grow into a woman and see how many ways she would change the world around her, but I would have to get through this first.
Right above me, I saw the frame that held my favorite picture of Eric and me. It was taken at senior reflection day. We were both suffering in the picture because we were both facing a countdown that would seperate us across the country from the other. We looked so happy. Being in his arms looked like the greatest thing in the world. A few days ago I was limp in his arms sobbing.
How I wish I could be in his arms now.
Next to it was a picture of him dressed as wolverine for Halloween. I don't know how old he was, but I think it is the cutest picture ever. Look how cute he was. The love of my life in a little xmen outfit. .
Look at little Eric. Look how happy he was. I had always wanted to marry that little wolverine and be his wife forever. We both knew we would be together. I wonder if our kids would look like that little xman. I wonder if our little son would love to watch xmen and the avengers like his dad. I wonder if he would have Eric's contagious smile or his beautiful brown eyes. I wonder what house we would live in, if we would have a little corgi running around. I wonder if that little boy would have Eric's laugh. The loud laugh that makes everyone else giggle and curl their lips into a smile.
I wonder.
I wanted to find out. I had so much to live for. That little 4 x 6 photo brought out a fight in me. Looking at Kelly and Eric brought me back to earth. It helped open the screen I was living behind.
I took out my phone and dialed 'Eric Pfaff'.
No answer. Of all the days that I had called Eric, there was no answer on this scary morning. I think I called him four times laying on that cold floor.
Those pictures saved me.
I put the one pill in my mouth and hurried to class. The last thing I needed at that moment was to be alone. I was too scared to be alone.
I ran to the music building and never looked back. I was in the same clothes I had slept in, but I didn't care.
I needed to tell somebody.
Matt would understand.
'Matt, I really thought about taking all of my pills today.'
'Call me'
A fleeting death wish is what I experienced. I never went back to a class after I stepped out of that music theory class
I went straight to the counselor and told them everything. One, two, three counselors came in asking me all sorts of questions.
'If you stay, we're going to control your medication. You will have to come into this office to receive your two doses a day. Suicidal tendencies are not taken lightly here.'
'If I stay?'
'Well, it is very common for those who experience suicidal episodes to medically withdraw from the school. Your condition more than qualifies you for this.'
I was sick. I wasn't just crazy. Medically withdraw? I didn't even know that was a possibility.
My counselor got on the phone where it was decided my condition was so severe that I would medically withdraw from Catholic.
I was going home.
Suicide has never been an option for me. I have always known that whatever the obstacle, I could conquer it. I have seen first hand the effects that suicide can leave on the ones left behind, and I knew I would never cause someone that pain.
But, when your mind is so far gone and you cannot control it, it wanders. It wanders to the darkest of places - to the places you never thought you would face.
I woke up on Thursday, October 18th in a despair I had never felt before. I had once again woken up numb. These last few days I had just been living. I didn't put any effort into anything else. No makeup, no brushing my hair, and no showerring. I simply went to classes, and went back to my dorm. I hardly talked to anyone besides my roommate. I gave up on all the counseling advice because it simply was not working.
I woke up feeling nothing. No pain. No happiness. Nothing.
I had never felt this bad before. I looked at my countdown - still five weeks. Five weeks of this fucking shit. Five weeks of breathing and nothing else. Five weeks of utter darkness. Well, five weeks was too long.
I am never one to give up. But right there in my bed, I have up. Five minutes to get to class - who cares. Who cares about anything anymore to be honest. I tried so hard just to sit up, only to sit there. In the dim corner of the room.
You can only have so much strength.
I got up, and knew immediately that I needed my medication. This is where I lost control of my thoughts. It was like watching a scene in a movie. I pulled out my second drawer, found my antidepressant and just stared at it.
'Give it a few weeks.'
Well, my friend, I had. Why the hell was it not working? Why am I sinking deeper and deeper?
I shook the bottle to get the tablet into the lid, but a few more can with it.
'Take one tablet twice daily.'
One tablet huh? One fucking tablet? I knew what would happen if I took all the pills that had poured out. I knew very well what would happens if I took more than one....two....three....the whole bottle.
I did not care. For the first time, my depression won. For that moment, life was not worth living if it meant living in utter darkness. The battle was no longer worth it. The struggle was winning.
I wanted to take my own life. Sitting on the floor, feeling the rough carpet and the smooth tile beneath me, look at the countdown that was nowhere near where I needed it to be, looking at the mess of what I had become, I wanted to get out. Get out of it all. Not go to another stupid counseling session that gives me glimmer of hope only to leave and feel it disintegrate. Not to get out and go to music theory to learn the minor scales. Not to get out and even feel the sun. I wanted to get out of the whole situation. I had lost my strength. I had lost my fight, my desire to go on. Home was too far away, and if everyday in between was like this...I couldn't make it. Even when I would go home, after a few days I would be right back in this hell. Thanksgiving was too short of a time to really fight for.
'You can't do this anymore.'
I really believed that I couldn't. My depression had permeated into every part of me. I did not believe I could make it.
I had really hit rock bottom.
The hardest part of contemplating suicide for me was not weighing the pros of getting out of the darkness, but talking myself out of it.
What would you do if you thought you were going to die? If you had only a few moments...what would you do?
I opened the top drawer and took out a letter Kelly had written for me. She gave it to me that night before I left and I kept it close to me as much as I could. She talked about how much she loved me and how I had become her best friend. She talked about how she would always be there for me, no matter what.
When I looked up, I saw the picture that accompanied the letter. A picture of Kelly and I waiting for Toy Story Mania at Disneyland. My heart ached. How different things were now.
I wanted to be able to go to Disneyland with her again. I wanted to see Kelly grow into a woman and see how many ways she would change the world around her, but I would have to get through this first.
Right above me, I saw the frame that held my favorite picture of Eric and me. It was taken at senior reflection day. We were both suffering in the picture because we were both facing a countdown that would seperate us across the country from the other. We looked so happy. Being in his arms looked like the greatest thing in the world. A few days ago I was limp in his arms sobbing.
How I wish I could be in his arms now.
Next to it was a picture of him dressed as wolverine for Halloween. I don't know how old he was, but I think it is the cutest picture ever. Look how cute he was. The love of my life in a little xmen outfit. .
Look at little Eric. Look how happy he was. I had always wanted to marry that little wolverine and be his wife forever. We both knew we would be together. I wonder if our kids would look like that little xman. I wonder if our little son would love to watch xmen and the avengers like his dad. I wonder if he would have Eric's contagious smile or his beautiful brown eyes. I wonder what house we would live in, if we would have a little corgi running around. I wonder if that little boy would have Eric's laugh. The loud laugh that makes everyone else giggle and curl their lips into a smile.
I wonder.
I wanted to find out. I had so much to live for. That little 4 x 6 photo brought out a fight in me. Looking at Kelly and Eric brought me back to earth. It helped open the screen I was living behind.
I took out my phone and dialed 'Eric Pfaff'.
No answer. Of all the days that I had called Eric, there was no answer on this scary morning. I think I called him four times laying on that cold floor.
Those pictures saved me.
I put the one pill in my mouth and hurried to class. The last thing I needed at that moment was to be alone. I was too scared to be alone.
I ran to the music building and never looked back. I was in the same clothes I had slept in, but I didn't care.
I needed to tell somebody.
Matt would understand.
'Matt, I really thought about taking all of my pills today.'
'Call me'
A fleeting death wish is what I experienced. I never went back to a class after I stepped out of that music theory class
I went straight to the counselor and told them everything. One, two, three counselors came in asking me all sorts of questions.
'If you stay, we're going to control your medication. You will have to come into this office to receive your two doses a day. Suicidal tendencies are not taken lightly here.'
'If I stay?'
'Well, it is very common for those who experience suicidal episodes to medically withdraw from the school. Your condition more than qualifies you for this.'
I was sick. I wasn't just crazy. Medically withdraw? I didn't even know that was a possibility.
My counselor got on the phone where it was decided my condition was so severe that I would medically withdraw from Catholic.
I was going home.
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