In honor of Suicide Prevention Month, and out of appreciation, today I took a trip back to Memorial Hospital to thank all of the nurses and doctors for the amazing experience they gave me this past March. I was surrounded with love and support from every person that helped me at Memorial. This was such a healing experience for me and I was so grateful to every nurse I came in contact with this March. Thank you so so much to all healthcare workers who help with suicide prevention and awareness. I could never have been to the place I am now without the love and support. I am beyond thankful to be here and to be alive today. They quite literally saved my life. These nurses saw the most vulnerable side of me, and saw me in such a dark place. I am so thankful to have been able to do this today. Today marks 6 months since the date I overdosed. I am now living so much better than I was 6 months ago. Thank you Memorial Children’s Hospital for everything you all do.
A passage I wrote when struggling so badly with urges to cut. I know there are some people who understand these feelings and thoughts, and there are people who may not have experienced these. However, it is so important to bring awareness to these feelings. I hope this passage will help bring awareness to the struggles of self harm and the pain involved.
TW- self harm and mention of ED (eating disorder)
“Cut deeper” my mind would say as I held a knife against my small wrists. I enjoyed watching the blood pour out of my arm as I sat there, on my bedroom floor, in tears. It was 2:30 am. I thought this could be what my parents were talking about when they said “nothing good comes after 11pm.” As a drop of blood fell on my tan carpet I tried wiping it up with a rag, only for it to remain a stain. It was crazy to think about, one drop of blood stains my new carpet. I didn’t realize that months later I would stare down at my carpet and notice that same drop of blood laying there. The first drop that led to me staining an entire towel red. I’d thrown it out so my parents wouldn’t see, and hoped they wouldn’t find it in our garbage bag. The day I seriously could have used medical help, yet I wouldn’t tell a soul, I’d just let the scars scab over and wear a sweatshirt in the 100 degree Georgia weather. “Aren’t you hot in that?” adults would ask me. The answer was yes, however I knew I’d never be able to uncover my arms unless I was willing to go to another mental facility. I’d go through the day, telling my parents I was doing fine, then lying straight to my therapist about my urges to self harm. “Honestly, I haven’t even thought about it”, I’d say. “That’s really good, we are super proud of you!”, she replied as my weak veiny arms looked as if I’d been in a horrible accident under my sweater sleeve. I don’t really know why it was so difficult for me to open up, but all i know was that it definitely was. It was easier to keep my struggles a secret than to actually get better. I was so so comfortable in my depression, I didn’t want to heal. I wanted to stay exactly as I was. Coming up with reasons to starve myself day by day, thinking of what kind of knife to cut with that night. Worrying that my scars were not deep enough, therefore my feelings were not truly validated. It wasn’t until residential when someone said something that changed my point of view on my scars. “It doesn’t matter what your scars look like, what matters is that they are there because you were experiencing enough pain to do it” said another one of the 18 girls who I was living with at the time. It helped me so much to hear that because I was no longer comparing myself to others in order to feel validated. I knew my pain was enough to cause me to hurt myself, and that is validation in itself. From that moment on, if I ever caught myself comparing scars, I knew to stop myself because I was validated enough just how I was.
This passage I wrote while I was in a very dark place, but during my time of healing. These emotions are vulnerable and can be triggering to some. I share this because I want you all to realize that things can be extremely hard, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better. Self harm was a huge escape for me, however it has consequences that are really hard to deal with. The difficult times don’t last forever, I, myself am proof of that. There is a much better version of yourself lying underneath all the pain. Soon you will experience that. I never would’ve if it weren’t for the residential facility I attended and all the people in my life. We must let go of the past, to experience life at its fullest.
This is something I posted on my Instagram upon returning home from residential. It spread so much awareness and positive energy around mental health, so i wanted to add it on here too 🙂
I am currently sitting in an airport in CT, waiting on my flight to go home. Yesterday I got out of a mental health facility/rehab I’ve been at for the past 6 weeks. A lot of things happened in the past year. I struggled with suicidal ideation, self harm, and substance use. Since August I was just having a very difficult time with the concept of living. My anxiety and depression led me to one of the darkest places I’d ever been mentally. My family & friends have never showed me anything but love and acceptance however my depression convinced me otherwise & led me to feel the worst I have ever felt. In December I lost a lot of important friendships in my life & it really took a toll on me and my mental health. I felt as if I weren’t worthy of love or for anyone to stay in my life and the abandonment of those friendships hit me very deeply in the heart. Fast forward to March 19th, I tried to take my own life by overdosing while my parents were asleep. At 2am that night I woke up, feeling more sick than ever and eventually went and got my parents & told them what I had done. They took me to the ER and I don’t remember much after that. I do remember my mom seeing my self-harm scars for the first time ever. I saw her cry and break down in the hospital because she hadn’t known that I’d been struggling with cutting for months at that point. It was all new to her. After being given several doses of Ativan my heart rate would not come down. The next morning, I was taken in an ambulance to Memorial in Savannah and was there for 4 days in ICU. I don’t really remember any of those days. I then got transported to a critical care mental hospital. I was there for 7 days and I hated every moment. I had never felt so alone in my life. At that point my suicidal thoughts were nothing but worse. For the month after that my derealization was insane and I felt crazy at times because nothing felt real. I felt like from the moment I decided to swallow two bottles of pills from my kitchen cabinet, I was floating outside of my own body and only in my dreams did it really work. I continued getting worse after returning home. I relapsed with self-harm. I wore sleeves every day because I was terrified anyone would see my recent scars and would send me back to the mental hospital. I made friends with a lot of the wrong people. All I cared about was that temporary happiness that getting high left me with. I was constantly chasing that short term feeling and in the moments when I wasn’t using, I felt empty. Shortly after that I spent two weeks waiting for residentials to accept me so I could get the long-term care that I needed. Finally, Turnbridge accepted me. At first, I was angry at everyone for the fact that I was leaving. I didn’t I know that this facility was going to change my life and perspective on the world. I met some of the kindest, most amazing people while I was there. I formed so many bonds with the other people there and I feel so differently about life now. I’m posting this because there have been so many unsaid things about my story that I felt needed to be shared. Also because no one really knew I was struggling and I want every person who reads this to know that you are not alone. Mental Health is just as important as physical health and I spent so many months of my life truly sick. It affected not only me, but my family and every person that I love. Through all of this I have learned the importance of trusting the process. I couldn’t have done it without the help of Turnbridge and everyone there. Know that you are loved and you deserve to live a happy and long life, even though we might not always feel like it. I hope that sharing my story will bring hope to anyone else who is struggling with the same things that I struggled with. I am thankful that I am here today to say all of these things because at one point I didn’t know if I would be. Recovery is so so important and it is seriously the most bad b!tch thing that a person can do❤️
