Suicide: Is It REALLY the Answer?

Depression: Feelings of severe despondency and dejection.
That term alone means almost nothing to you until you're the one experiencing it. Depression. That is the dictionary definition of the term, but what does it really mean? What does it feel like?

"350 million people of all ages suffer from depression."
"At its worst, depression can lead to suicide." (World Health Organization, April 2016, http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs369/en/)

Depression is not just a term used for sad people. It is not a term to be romanticized. Depression isn't only wishing for the boy you've been crushing on for years to love you back. It's not that simple. Depression is a real disorder, and it's much more serious than you could ever imagine.

I know this because I have experienced it. And I have felt the affects it has on my life, and the lives around me. I am a survivor of depression, and suicide.

My Story:

These past four years I have not been strong enough to share my story with the world. I have been too afraid, too worried that I'll be judged. But honestly, I don't care anymore. I want to share my story because I know that it will help someone out there; whether it be one or a hundred.

My story begins my freshman year of high school. Up until this year I had been attending a private school, one where Christian beliefs were discussed often, and I was really able to learn from my classmates in a safe environment. I had just graduated from said private school and decided to attend my local high school, where I thought I'd experience many amazing adventures and meet exciting new people. Not all of that was true. The things I experienced were fun enough for the time, but I had little recollection that I was falling deep into depression. I had befriended a few kids I knew back in elementary school and became apart of their group. It had it's fun times- Movie nights, nerdy parties, funny stories to tell in the end.

My personality is hard to deal with at times though. I like to think I can fix everyone's problems by just reaching out to them and helping them bare the load. I thought I could fix everything by just a flip of a switch, but alas I realized I could not. The kids I begun to hang out with and love all had different experiences growing up as children, and it really opened my eyes to see that not everyone grew up like I did, with great parents, siblings, a supporting family and home. And that was hard for me to realize. I begun to think of ways to help them through it, and in some cases, I did. But I didn't realize the toll it was taking on me.

I began to care less about my health, and more about my friends. I thought, well if I could just help them through THIS situation, then I can help myself. I never really got the opportunity. I started to obsess over how I can help them that I began to brush aside the ways they treated me as a person.

Later on I had just broken up with one of the boys in the group for religious purposes, and I almost immediately began to feel the affects it had on the friendships in the group. They began to take his side on the breakup, pushing me further and further into depression. Their words taunting me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Had I really done the right thing? Had I really followed Christ's plan for me? These boys didn't seem to think so. It was too hard on me, I had lost all but two friends, and I was beginning to lose myself in the process.

I was drowning, and I didn't even know it.

Everything was becoming so overwhelming. My family life was getting harder. I felt like my siblings and parents were all against me. I felt like the people who loved me finally realized who I was, and stopped loving me. I felt alone and deserted.

I began to think about possible ways to end the pain. I mean everyone else seemed unhappy with me, nothing was going my way anymore. The vulgarity, the insults, the back-biting and life threatening things being thrown my way. It was all too much to bear.

If you know my family, you know that we are in love with weapons. We own no guns, but we have about 45 throwing knives, one sword, two machetes, and three sets of bows and arrows. I kept dreaming about these weapons and how I could use them against myself. I tried to look to Christ, but it seemed as if He had left me as well. I didn't know what else to do. I felt alone and scared. I had started to spend a lot of time alone and by myself. I felt as if I wasn't worth the effort others put in for me. I wasn't worth their time.

I had never gotten to the point where I would harm myself. But I had picked up a knife, many a times, and thought. But I'd always put it back down. I may not be one who has felt the physical pain of depression, but I know what it feels like to be that deep.

One day I couldn't take it anymore. I was sick of the nightmares, and thoughts that crept into my head at night. I was sick of the thoughts that consumed my life. I couldn't handle it anymore. I took my situation into my own hands and I knelt down and prayed. I prayed that my parents would know what to do with me. That they would understand and help me. I prayed that they would know how to help me. I hoped that they could love me again.

That night I walked into my dad's office where they often watch TV together, knife in hand, and I gave it to them. I told them the horrors I've been dealing with over the past five months, and I cried. I cried like I'd never cried before. They were shocked, it was clear on their face. They had known I'd been going through a hard time, they told me so. But they had never known that I wanted to kill myself. To end my life on this earth so that I could be happy again. That was the reason: I wanted to end it all so that I could feel loved again.

My parents took initiative and began to help. They did their best to keep me busy and they never left me alone. It was then when I began to feel their love for me. That first time when I spilled everything to them I truly began to feel their love as I watched the tears spill down my  daddy's eyes, and the respect for me in my mommy's. I began to feel Christ's love once more.

I share this with you so that you know you are not the only one who goes through this. Depression is becoming more and more common. Suicide is becoming more common. But it is not the answer. I thought that it was the only way I could feel loved again. I thought that it was the only way I could be happy again. I thought that no one needed me anymore, that I was just some towel to be thrown away when done being used.

But that's the thing, we are not the only ones who feel this way. And suicide is never the answer. Suicide may feel like the only way out, but it's not. When I realized I didn't want to feel this way, when I prayed to God to help me through this awful Hell, I was told to go to my parents. They would protect me. And maybe you don't feel comfortable with your parents, but you do with another adult figure, that's okay. Go to an adult figure and talk to them, because chances are they have overflowing love for you, even if you can't see it. They will love and protect you when you can't do it yourself.

Give life a chance again. Go to someone trustworthy, and ask for help. You'd be surprised at how willing most people are.

If you can't find anyone to go to about this, please come to me. I may not have harmed myself physically, but I know what it feels like emotionally, mentally and spiritually and I can help you. I don't care if we are close friends, surface friends, or acquaintances, I do not want to lose a friend to this awful battle.

Trust me.

Trust yourself.

Trust that you're doing the right thing.