Summary: Girl whines. Recounts sad stories over the years. Tells all suicidal thoughts that have come across her mind. Reflects on them. Pretends to have a positive outlook on life. Thanks people who’ve temporarily erased all suicidal thoughts from mind at the moment.
Hi. How you’ve been? Just wanted to get this off my chest for now, I got triggered by some TEF posts haha. Here is my own list of suicidal thoughts dating back to my high school days. Bear with me, as I try to articulate my feelings in a way I hope you, dear reader, would understand. This is not much, but somehow, I hope I can help by sharing my experience and my thoughts. I’ve thought a while about writing something like this, but I was always held back by what I thought people might think. Because believe me, a voice inside my head is always screaming, “No, just change your fucking perspective and put some work into it”. I live with that voice every day, but I also live with other voices in my head. So, here we go. This is me.
Every suicidal thought I’ve had:
2nd-3rd year high school;
hanging myself off the ceiling of the third floor of the dorm using the wires and makeshift benches from construction
slitting my wrist using broken shards of glass after an accidental cut fascinated me
4th year high school;
jumping in front of a bus, or a jeep
jumping into the pier
1st year college;
jumping in front of a vehicle
jumping off never ending bridge(but then thought I wouldn’t really die, maybe a broken spine or limbs, prolonging agony and depression)
sneaking into the carillon tower, then fall to my death (more probability that I’d die. I imagined climbing to the second landing to get to the stairs)
hiding under the grass hoping the grass cutters don’t notice me til I break their machines with my severed body parts
2nd year college;
overdose on paracetamol and other OTC medication
alcohol intoxication, coupled with overdose of OTC medication
slipping down the stairs and breaking my head
3rd year college;
choking self with belt
overdose on paracetamol and other OTC medication
alcohol intoxication, coupled with overdose of OTC medication
jumping in front of a vehicle
4th year college:
lock self in room and start a fire, choke on smoke (but thought that I live in an apartment so I don’t want that)
lock self in room, knife my throat
cut self with rusted blade
5th year college:
jump in front of train
use college money to leave island and go someplace where no one will recognize me, dye my hair, cut it short, wear contacts tie myself to a bag of rocks and jump into the sea
find a pack of rabid dogs and agitate them prompt them to devour me
alcohol intoxication + overdose
lock self in bathroom, drink zonrox, cut self and bleed into the water pail
Here’s to note, that the overdose includes all OTC drugs I can find and drink a liter of them. As of writing, I’ve realized that I won’t probably die from all those plans. But, if I had attempted at least one of them, I’d get better until I see a result. So what made me think that? Me, who’s privileged enough to go to private school, eat three times a day, parents who never quarrel in front of me and my brother. What made me think of ending my life?
I’ve had suicidal thoughts since sophomore high school. It was the middle of the school year, my grades aren’t what I’ve expected. I was a transferee. I wanted to make friends immediately, to belong. I disappointed myself. I felt like I’ve disappointed my parents. I felt like I didn’t deserve my slot as a scholar. But somehow I survived, I made friends. Come junior year though, things got a little bit tougher. I was still in my shell, but I did try my best in reaching out, to socialize more, to escape the despair in my mind. Because it’s scary, my mind. I’ll talk about it later. The dorm where I was staying then was under construction. My room was up on the third floor and I think the hall windows weren’t finished yet, there were wires near the staircase and wooden makeshift benches. Most afternoons as I prepare myself for dinner I think about how easy it would be to grab those wires, climb the window, and hang myself from the ceiling. Luckily I never had the guts to do such a thing. I also thought of slitting my wrists with broken shards of glass when an accidental cut at the back of my hand fascinated me. The window in our classroom broke because of a storm I think. I thank April for snapping me out of it, for listening to me and giving me company. I looked for distractions. I watched TV series, movies. I saw 3 Idiots.
I struggled but was becoming disinterested. My teachers tried to help me, they gave me every opportunity to stay. I got kicked out anyway. I was either too lazy or too uninterested in what was going on. But damn did I regret it at the time. I was going to enter senior high without any friends. I was already picturing myself among batchmates during graduation, everyone hugging each other, wishing each other well for college, reminiscing all four years of high school. Well, that happened eventually, but let’s not skip too fast. I delayed telling my parents about failing my second attempt to remove that subject. I wanted to be alone and find a sharp debris behind the building. Thankfully Jamil hugged me tight enough to keep myself together. They who know who they are promised to keep in touch, and until now they still do, just recently I visited them and we had a great time, though not everyone was present. I’ll forever cherish those 6; for keeping me sane for a few months, introducing me to Tumblr, and for staying.
I missed my friends that summer. I could have contacted my elementary friends to catch up with them, but I was ashamed and disconnected. I lost touch with my freshman year friends. I got into a fight with my dad and basically, I was aloof and lost for a whole summer. Mostly April and Ben entertained me with their time, for that I thank them.
Senior year. I was this silent, weird, awkward girl still. My classmates thought I was a snobby know-it-all pretender, maybe I still am. I felt held back, I got bored, because I already knew what they were teaching. I got lazy. I never studied any of my exams there, but I passed because I knew them already. My new classmates either got jealous of me or wanted to know how I’m “so smart”. I struggled to make friends with them because I felt like I could never belong anywhere. Kristel, Abby, Zara, Mikey, Lyka, Chan, Joebert, Jason, Edmarc, thank you for listening. Mir, Gwin, Sarah, Kenny, your craziness saved me from myself. The graduation scenario happened still. I felt alone, an outsider looking in. I watched as my friends hugged each other; some were crying, some were glad they could finally have dinner after that 6-hour ceremony, and most were taking pictures together.
I never thought about what my goals were. I just wanted to be happy, to matter. But I had no idea how. So I botched my college application forms. I had my hopes up but didn’t really expect much. I thought I was making progress, I passed every college admission test in the city and got a slot in UPLB. That was nice.
First year, first sem. I enrolled in a degree program that had an available slot. It was interesting and I could really see how it would help the country. But it just didn’t feel ‘me’. I failed math11(college algebra) for the first time because I was late to the final exam, I had my zoology 1 lab exam prior. My friend raced to the exam venue, but I lost hope and gave up, not having the confidence to take it because I didn’t study enough. I sat around Fpark at noon watching the wind sway the leaves on the tree. Trying not to cry. Telling myself it’s okay and that I was stupid for not trying, but it’s okay. I got lumped in the dorm with two girls who I’ll never get tired of hearing from. One is the bubbly loud Joscel and the other is the metamorphosed Genesel. These two strong women are a gift.
First year, second sem. I still felt like I didn’t belong in UP, and during an initiation process, I was convinced because they said so. They told me so loud enough that I still hear the echo of their voices when I get stuck with a problem. They told me that I wasn’t using my brain, that I was stupid. I felt numb, I felt validated. Yes, I am stupid, thank you for telling me, though I knew that was not your intention, you made me feel that way. It still makes me feel that way. No, you didn’t break me to make me strong, you shattered me. It hindered my already slow progress. The splinters ached inside for months. You made me believe I didn’t have what it takes to survive in UP, and right now I’m trying my best not to blame you for all the times I failed because I didn’t believe in myself. I wanted to change my degree program, but I saw all the potential in my current one. I stayed. And am still currently enduring.
Second year, first sem. I was pushed into joining a contest where I had to face an audience. I believe I was making progress. I was hanging out with my friends. I was still failing math and I still didn’t know what to do, how to give meaning to life. I was slowly getting out of my shell though, starting to love my skin a bit. Still cried, still thought of jumping in front of a high-speed car or drinking something toxic, but I lived. Because of 3 Idiots I thought of those who loved me and felt guilty, and how I would disappoint them. So I lived. I went on dates with friends. I started to sort through people. I believe to have fallen in love with a guy who’s independent, caring, always late, but always strives to better himself. He loves adventure, is a great cook, and loved hip hop and reggae songs. He wasn’t my ideal guy in the external aspects, but he had qualities that really count. He made me feel safe and that I can count on him to hold my hand whenever I feel reeling into my void. I still failed math. I still wanted to shift.
Second year,second sem. Third year. I had so much fun in my GE courses, especially those under AH. I tried doing art but I lost my passion for literature and photography somewhere down the road. Adrian forced me to see my worth. He pushed me to try and get myself better. I finally freaking passed math11. I decided to stay, finish this degree, then take up a second degree after. It was around this period that me and my elementary classmates would have reunions during Christmas break. I got drunk twice maybe thrice now with them, but they were great. They gave me different perspectives and they gave me comfort. Even though they are now in their first years of their respective careers, they don’t make me feel as though I am lagging behind. Thank you; DCS Batch ’12. I am also grateful to my housemates during my third to fifth years in college; Nice, Faith, Jay Ann, Abby, Richellen, Jelen and Genesel. Thank you for the movie marathons and series binges and being each other’s alarm clock system. You girls have seen me bitch and whine and cry and breakdown and you didn’t kick me out of the apartment. Thank you. And thank you so much for listening.
Fourth year I panicked. My batchmates were graduating. I calmed down a bit when I reminded myself I can still meet maximum residency if I don’t fail anything and I keep full load for three extra semesters. Ha. I had hoped. Fifth year I went to volunteer, a tiring but fulfilling experience. I had fun, I felt relaxed. I practiced faux calligraphy. But I dreaded the interview for major applications. Here I was, already four years in the university, and it’s my first time to file for a major. I feared not being able to live up to expectations set by my professors. I panicked all the more, my friends and batchmates were getting jobs, passing respective licensure examinations. I was beginning to start taking major courses. At times I hated it. I hated how I didn’t—still don’t—have the spine to accept where I’m good at, what I’m willing to be good at. Still dragging my feet to the finish line. I started to look for distractions again— water coloring, faux calligraphy, watching TV series.
I’m in my sixth year now. Haha. I still feel worthless whenever I think of the money my parents spend on me, of those people who are far more worse off in life. I feel guilty about receiving education and not being able to finish on time not because we have trouble financially, but because I’ve always felt like the weakest crap. Like, there are people with more debilitating disabilities. Valid ones. And all I need is a change of mindset. Believe me, it’s not difficult because I have a myriad of scenarios going on in my brain for every given present. But I seem to be more focused on what could go wrong instead of everything that could go right. I am fixated on the negative because it’s easier to accept failure that way. All my pre-teen and teenage life I’ve felt like a failure.
Remember those voices in my head? I first noticed their existence back when elderly people compared their children to each other. “Oh, she’s such a good girl. Whenever she gets home she studies and does her homework” or “Oh he’s so disciplined, he keeps his room tidy” and everything ending with, “Why can’t you be more like that?” Since then I never stopped comparing myself to others. It shouldn’t be totally a bad thing, right? Because it says that I set standards for myself. But what’s wrong is that I beat myself up continually if I don’t meet those standards. And so ever since then, there have been conflicting voices in my head. Some would bring out all the negative, how useless I am, how insignificant I am and what I do. Some would tell me not to listen to those voices, that I will soldier through whatever obstacle I am facing right now and that I can take it. The instances I fear the most are when two or more speak up and I am left to curl up in my bed and cry because I want them all to be silenced, hence leading to all my suicidal thoughts. It’s true when they say the worst enemy you can have is yourself, but it’s also true that you’re the only one who can help yourself. And it’s a nightmare when those two things happen at the same time, and all you can do is freeze, and take a breath and wait for them to eventually dull into silence before you shakily get back on your feet and resume your life.
My problems aren’t that great, I know. I’m lucky. But please don’t invalidate my feelings. I know there are people worse off than me, but maybe I can help shed a little perspective to people who have similar experiences, insecurities, pain? Battling and belittling yourself is well, it batters you down. I survived though. I survived because I surrounded myself with people willing to listen to me, no matter how much I drain them. Each and everyday I wake up and tell myself that I will get better, that I will be strong enough to silence the enemies in my mind. So if you’re like me, or you’ve actually attempted to harm yourself in any way because of whatever reason, please struggle. Struggle and strive to get yourself out of the mud. Because darling, you are surrounded by angels, even when the world looks so full of evil, even if your mind has demons. Keep an eye out for those people who are sincere in wanting to alleviate you from your problems. Keep your head up. Keep struggling until, believe me, you find your happiness and contentment. The hurt in your chest, no matter how deep or how long it hurts, is only temporary until you’ve worked hard enough in healing it; but ending a thrilling chapter with a period and closing the book will make readers go mad with “what happens next” and fills them with never ending “what if” theories, but they’ll never get it, because you’ve already ended your story there.