I grew up as a "social butterfly". I would be everyone's friend. I would go to all activities for church that I could. But no one....but maybe God knew the inner battle inside me. I went because I was afraid, and I didn't want this social fear to control me. I remember one year at girls camp crying myself to sleep, wanting to be home, safe.....where I couldn't risk being hurt. That was the last year I ever went. It was the year that I slowly started to pull away from activities. Nothing happened that made me do this. And I remember being confused every day by the feeling. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't angry at the world. I just wanted to be alone. I stopped communicating with my family, which just lead to more problems. Problems of people feeling i was pushing them away, not wanting to be loved, or to even love. I remember being told that i needed to explain how I felt. Not in a mean way. I can only imagine how a family member felt so helpless, because I did. I couldn't explain it. Because I didn't know. I wanted to be social. I wanted to be always the popular one. I wanted all the attention.
I left home at 19 to move to Provo, thinking that maybe I just needed a change. That was the worst mistake of my life. To this day, I can date so many bad choices to making that move too soon. I was running from something, and I had no idea what it was. I moved back to Mi, and tried so hard to get out of my own head, my own body. But time after time, I failed at something, and it would eat me alive. Something inside me was off. And at this point, I was thinking maybe its time to get help. So i started to go to therapy. Nope. Didn't do a darn thing. I was so closed off, that he couldn't even get me to open. This feeling was turning into one of the darkest times of my life. A time I never talked about. A time MOST including my family might not know about. The world was against me, it was out to destroy me. I didn't like what i felt like inside, so i changed on the outside. I stopped eating, and when i ate it was once a day, and I would binge eat. Food was the one thing that made me comfy, it was the one thing I had TOTAL control over.
I was living with my grandparents, and things just got more and more rough. I didn't want to go with them to see my parents, and my new sister and brother. I didn't want to go to work, I didn't want to do anything but lay in bed, comfortable in my own place. One day, my grandparents were going to visit my family. Inside I had all but given up. My mind was so dark, there was nothing left. I had what had to happen planned out in my head. My grandparents were on so many different kind of medications, and I had researched their effects. I knew how to do it, and I was given the most perfect time. I know many at this point are thinking "How selfish! Think about your family, think about what you are leaving them with!" The fact is, you aren't thinking. At this point I felt more of a failure, than anything useful. I waited for them to leave, and I walked to the kitchen, in total tears. I filled up a glass of water, as I wrote the words "I am sorry, I love you" on a piece of paper. I took down the pill box....and in what seemed like hours I stood there. Then all of a sudden, the back door opens, Grandpa walks in "Have you seen Grandmas glasses?" he asks. In a panic I help him find them, and send him on his way. I drop to my knees...numb, afraid, and all I remember thinking is "Help".
I can not tell you what clicked enough that day to make me never follow through. I can't tell you what was so hard about my life at that moment. But what I can tell you, is that you don't know what ANY OTHER PERSON feels. So no one.....no one...can ever say "Suicide is selfish." In the eyes of a person hurting it isn't. No two people hurt the same, feel the same, and react the same.
I am BEYOND thankful for that moment now. It is my driving force. It defined me. It helped me become strong, and unstoppable. And it was the stepping stone for years later, sitting in my Humanities class, having so many "AH HA!" moments personally, that I would go home drained. Some people don't believe in a higher power, some call it by a different name. But I can tell you this, it exists. Because years before taking this class.....I thought the words "Help". And I got exactly that. This class alone, because of the amazing teacher I had, who had this.....ability to connect to me without trying.....that darkness started to disappear. And years after this class, after having so many mind opening moments, I run into an article about what an introvert really is....and I am able to soak it up like a sponge. And to top that off.....a friend says "I have known you were one for a while, because you are like me."
Humanities to me is defined perfectly on dictionary.com
1. The quality or condition of being human; human nature.
2. The quality of being humane; kindness; benevolence.
I will end with this restatement. Suicide is NOT selfish. Just because a person has "everything, or so much" in your eyes, doesn't mean he or she is invisible to being a human, and having conditions that make them react and feel differently. What is selfish, are the people that keep insisting that those that choose to take their life are. What is selfish is the constant judgments from people that think EVERY form of illness, mental or not is the same. That EVERY ONE should react the same. "If I can overcome my depression, so can he or she." Wrong. Each human is conditioned differently, that is what part of humanities is. The sad part that most of us are missing is the part of being humane, kind, loving, giving, supportive, and accepting. You can't change a person, you can only change yourself.