"Tell me about the events that led up to you attempting suicide."
I elaborate. I tell someone for the first time. I tell him everything. About how I know too much. About how scared I am. About how I was almost pulled into an elaborate scheme that would have put me in prison, too. People around me went. They spared me. Lied. Said I knew nothing.
"I can see how you thought that suicide would be your only way out. I'm not going to prescribe any medications. I don't think you're clinically depressed. I think what was going on was entirely situational. As a matter of fact, I might consider the same thing under those circumstances."
I didn't expect such understanding from a psychiatrist. I thought maybe I had overreacted. It feels good to be understood. For someone else to validate my feelings.
I head back to my room without any drugs. It's nice to talk to someone who can't repeat anything I've said to him. It feels good to just say it all. Get it out in the open.
I spend four days going to group therapy, individual therapy and finally therapy with my parents. I tell them with my own voice that I'm a lesbian. And now they know. For sure.
I leave this place with feelings that I haven't felt in years. I feel joyful. Happy to be alive. Hopeful. Light-hearted. Happy. Loved. Understood.
Recently, I spoke with someone that is very down. I wrote this for her. So that she can see that there is light. You can get help. If the therapist who is supposed to be helping you right now isn't, you can find another therapist. Keep looking. Go right now. It's okay if you go through 42 different therapists as long as you find the right one that will help you. Don't worry about hurting THEIR feelings. Screw 'em. You do what's right for you.
Listen to me...there is hope. Your life can be so different in a month that it would be impossible for you to believe.
After I started writing this, someone else came up. She had been on the other side. We both thought the other couldn't understand our perspective. I hope that I've given her mine. I would love to hear her side. If she ever decides to talk or write about it. I, for one, would love to know her story.
Trust me when I say that writing this was difficult. I've never told this story in this much detail. I've told it, briefly. But never with the feelings. I've brushed it off as something that happened years ago. That I'd gotten past. And I have. It is in the past. But if bringing it up again helped either of them or another person reading it, then it was worth the tears that I've shed over the past few days as I revisted my 25 year old self.
I know that I didn't tell you everything. I can't. I don't know who reads this. And knowledge is still my power. I'm keeping my mouth shut.
In case you're wondering, not once since that time have I ever tried suicide again. It has crossed my mind. But that is a totally different place than doing it. I hope you understand. You never know when you might use what you've learned here. Keep it in the back of your mind. Somebody...somewhere might need you to help them. To show them where they can get help.
If you're feeling like suicide might be the answer. Don't do it. Get help.