"Open the Door, Let the Pain End"
I Am Glad I Found You!
Feeling hopeless? Think all is lost? I too have felt this way. I know and understand where you are coming from. I have once been where you are today. It doesn't have to be this way life doesn't have to end, just the pain does.
First I must let you know I am not a doctor, specialist, therapist, or any other type of professional in the mental health field. In some ways I am better than that I am a person with actual experience of suicidal thoughts and actions. All the suggestions and advice I give you are from real experience,: mine and others who have also shared your feelings and thoughts.I am not offering you anything more than understanding, hope, faith, and a hand in helping you through.
Are you feeling alone? Feeling as if no one out there really cares what happens to you at this moment? Do you think there is no hope? Feeling as if the pain will just last forever? You are not alone. There is always hope.The pain will end, and most important of all someone does care. I care. I have taken this time out of my family's life to give to you. Just you. I felt a power inside that urged me to write this article on why you should not end it all today, a power that urges me to reach out to you and offer my hand and let me pull you up, let me help you out of this hole that seems so dark and bleak. There is no reason we can't do this together. Give me your hand and you will see we can pull through this, we will succeed. Together we can change those feelings and quiet the pain.
This is my story
I remember those days of sorrow. Those days when each waking moment felt like a tortuous pain that would last forever, Days when I awoke with the same black thoughts that played over and over in my mind. These thoughts were actually fears that someone might discover I wasn't as good a person as they thought I was. A fear someone else would discover my shameful secrets which I tried so hard to hide. These secrets were my vows and promises I made to my self left broken and strewn about daily, yet I would make the same vows nightly only to awake and most often break them again. The days when I looked in the mirror and was repulsed and filled with hatred for the reflection that stared back at me, bitter rage of angry words I unleashed upon that reflection. Those days are so far away now, but yet still so close. That each day I must continue to work on never seeing such a reflection again. So far I have succeeded,and the person I have come to trust and love is the only reflection staring back at me. Daily I tell her with loving words and a gentle voice that she is my best friend, my reason for joy, my partner in crime. She is my everything. In all her beauty and glory, she is me. She smiles back, and I know that at least for now, at least for today everything will be just fine. "How did I find her", you ask? Let me tell you the only way I know how, this my friend is how I found hope, how I found my way out of the pain.
I was at the lowest point I could possibly sink to. I had lost everything: my marriage, my home, my children, my sanity. This is the background that set the foundation to my desperate actions. I am the product of an adoption gone terribly wrong. The home I was raised in was filled with a lot of emotional abuse. There was also a lack of attention and supervision allowing multiple predators to physically and sexually abuse me. The sheer fact that I survived my childhood was amazing. I often wondered if I really survived it. I think it would be more accurate to say I was merely laying the foundation for a troubled adulthood. I was married young and promptly had three children all two years apart. I adore my children, they are my whole existence, my reason for living. Yet, as with most disturbed adults suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome as a result of childhood abuse, I was very unstable creating chaos to mask myself hatred and anger, at the same time my marriage was crumbling. Leaving me feeling as if I was spinning out of control. This felt like yet another piece of evidence that I was unlovable. That no one truly cared about me or what happened to me. I felt like I was horrible, sickening and not worth any one's time or trouble. I thought I would never find happiness, I would never be loved. These thoughts were my daily life line. The abuse I heaped upon myself was extreme. I truly hated me, every detail that was me down to my fingernails. I dreamt of being loved. I dreamt of a life that would be happy and leave me feeling the way I thought others felt, normal and happy. I wasn't worthy of such dreams. I thought I was a bad person, a mean person, I thought I was an evil person who didn't deserve these things. I continued to lash out at everyone around me for the eternal pain I was enduring. That behavior only made me hate myself even more. I saw no way out of this horrible life but to end it. I just wanted the pain and hurt in my heart to stop:I didn't want to feel these feelings anymore. I didn't want to feel anything anymore. My children were no longer enough to keep me sane.What good was I to them anyways, a broken mom who hated herself and always yelled and nagged? They were better off without me, weren't they? A husband who had grown to despise me due to all the years I pushed him away and lashed out at him with the pain and anger I was feeling, was abandoning me as well and taking what little joy I had in life with him, my kids. I saw no other reason to continue living. I had no friends, no home, no family, no parents, nothing:I was nothing, and I had nothing. So why exist? I couldn't contain the desire to make the pain end any longer so I sought out the medicine cabinet. It contained a multitude of medications that I had tried to cure the pain and depression I felt inside. Each of these medications had failed to give me any relief from the eternal hell I was living. I opened the lids and poured a glass of water from the sink: With each handful that I swallowed I felt a new feeling, it was the feeling of power, Power over the darkness a sense of freedom when I reached the last handful of pills my feelings suddenly changed: I was instantaneously overcome with enormous fear, fear like I have never felt before. What if there really is a God and I have to live in hell? What if I am wrong and it's worse after I die? Maybe we go someplace even worse than this? Oh my God, what have I done. It was to late for me to question it now. The action had already been set in motion. I sank down against the wall and felt a chill from the cold tile floor beneath me as well as the chill of what I had just done. Until now I hadn't noticed the tears streaking my face. Were they fresh tears, or had I been weeping the whole time? Everything happened in slow motion. The world was suddenly moving very slow reality seemed so very far away. I let my thoughts drift to all the pain I had been through, all the pain I would no longer have to face. I finally got my revenge, the guilt they would all feel when they learned of my demise!The satisfaction I felt was the last thought I had at that moment.
I awoke in a hospital room and immediately became bitter and angry. What was I doing here? Why was I here? I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be any where! and why was I feeling?Damn it! This was wrong. I later learned that there was no medical reason I lived. I should have been dead from the lethal amount of medication I had ingested. Yet I was here. I spent two weeks on a closed psychiatric ward and then another five months on a open inpatient mental health ward. I wasn't cured when I left. As my counselor put it, all we managed to do was put a band aid over the open wound. I needed real solutions and that would take more time than a inpatient hospital was able to give. I left with lessons and techniques given to me by the psychiatrists and the counselors, yet I didn't feel they helped. I still hated the person I was. I still felt alone. In fact now I was feeling even more alone than I had before. I had no where to go and only one set of clothes tucked under my arm. I had spent five months on a open ward and had two sets of clothing. That as all I owned. I had no visitors during my stay. I feel I was detained longer due to this. The doctors and staff were baffled that someone could have no one, no one to visit or be concerned. Yet I was proof that it can happen. I refused to be a sympathy case. I just wanted to be released so I could live my life the way I chose again.
I managed to get a job and find a room to rent. I put on the mask of life frustratingly doing what had to be done each day. I sought legal counsel to help me get visitation with my children, after months of this meaningless mundane life, I decided my first decision of just ending it all was a better option than this hell I lived daily. This was not a life but an existence, I wanted no part of it. Again I sought the medicine cabinet. As I once again found myself slipping away into that black realm of utter-reality, I prayed that this time I would succeed. I prayed that this would be the last time I ever had to feel such horrid pain.
As my eyes opened blinded by the lights of yet another hospital room, I turned not angry but confused. Why couldn't I just be allowed to die? Why did I keep failing ? Couldn't I even get this right? What was the purpose behind my inability to end it all? Was I missing something? Was there some reason that I just didn't get?
The answers to these questions came soon enough. I can't tell you the exact moment that I turned my thoughts around:I can just tell you that after the second suicide attempt, I had come to the conclusion that suicide wasn't the answer to making the pain end. I now needed to find another way to make it stop, another way to quiet the tears and rage pounding inside. I begged the doctors for a magic pill to end the pain, but they all said there wasn't one. There was nothing they could give me that would make the hurt and pain stop. They told me the only way to make the pain end was to eliminate what was causing it and that was me: The thoughts I had, The way I felt about myself. While they were telling me all this, the only thing I could say to myself was "yeah right: Blah Blah Blah." That was all I heard. I knew what the source of my pain was. It was all those people who hurt me. It was my horrible parents. It was mean people in this world. It was the fact that I should have been loved, not harmed. That was the source of my pain. Couldn't they see that? How dare they tell me I was causing myself all this pain! Stupid doctors! Yet when I pondered the thoughts I realized they in fact were right. My employer could care less about my childhood or abuse. He just wanted me to show up and do my job. He didn't give me the job because I deserved something after all I have been through. He could care less about any of that. People I befriended didn't care about my past and all the pain. In truth they felt put upon and became distant as it was depressing to hear all the details I forced upon them in my moments of self righteous outrage.The electric and phone companies didn't care. They just wanted their money. Wow, this was unbelievable to me. No one really cared about what I had gone through. It didn't have any bearing on my dealings with them, so who really cared? Worse yet, was the realization that those who should care, those who harmed and trespassed against me did not care. In fact they probably cared the least of all. They had not even given my pain a second thought. I was in fact giving them a constant and steady stream of power. All these years l have been giving them my life and my power. All that time I spent trying to force them to see the damage they had created. My unsuccessful efforts in trying to inflict them with thoughts of guilt. To try to force them to feel anything, to try to make them feel. Feel, feel what? My pain? They were the least interested in my accomplishments, so why was I so interested in making them see them? Why did I strive so hard to gain their approval, their acceptance? Why? Who really cared about what I had endured and overcome? Me. Only me. Me, myself and I. What a moment of realization. So I was my own worst enemy! I was demanding the world show me sympathy and compassion. I was demanding repayment for all I had been through yet I was not getting my demands met. The reason I wasn't getting those demands met had nothing to do with the world, and everything to do with me. They weren't met because I was the only one who felt I deserved something. Until my internal demands are met by me healing just wasn't going to be possible. These feelings would never go away. I decided I needed to comfort and heal that little girl inside of me. I need to make her stop demanding things and start accepting things. I worked very hard at that. I searched for a good therapist, one who would make me work hard not just let me snow ball my way through all this. It took about ten different counselors before I found the one who challenged me, but I found him none the less. Intense counseling that was daily at first, then bi weekly and later weekly until at last I was only seeing him once a month. Two long years of internal soul searching and healing. Two of the toughest years I will probably ever live. I managed to overcome my evil self. Through understanding and accepting that person who had been harmed, I managed to love her, accept her, hold her, and heal her. I love her now. I look in the mirror and I say, "I am so glad I found you". Every night I say a prayer one of thankfulness that I was granted the day that was about to pass. No longer do I pray not to awaken. Now I am eager for each day and what joys I might find within them.
I am not saying it will be easy. I am saying it can be done! You don't have to hate yourself anymore. You don't have to feel the pain you feel. You can make it better. There is a cure for this dark chaos you feel. It's in you. The cure lies within you. You are a special person. You are unique and only you know what can be accomplished, by hard work and effort. I am one of the few who does care what you have been through. I have been through it in one way or another as well. I do care that you were harmed. I do care that you are hurting. I am here to offer you a ray of hope, to serve as proof that it can be done. Please look inside yourself. You don't have to do this by yourself. I have already traveled that road and being alone makes it even more difficult. I don't want your journey to be as lonely as mine. I am offering you a hand through your journey.The only thing is you have to take it. You have to place your hand in mine and walk the path before you. I will not come down into the hole of hell with you. So to hold my hand means to stand up, climb out of that hole and walk forward, with me. I will always listen.I will always encourage. You may email me anytime, night or day. Just don't let your light go out! Don't give up the hope that there is a more peaceful life out there, one with less pain and anger. I am telling you as I stand before you today, there is always hope. I am proof of that. You can not deny that I have been there. You can not deny that I am proof. So let me help you up, and start the journey that can heal your soul. My friend, I make you the most solemn of promises, the promise that I do indeed care.
All my love and prayers are with you,
Please note that others care as well. They give up time with family and friends, just for you, they give out of care and concern. Call them anytime at
The National Suicide Hot-line
1-800-SUICIDE or 1-800-273-TALK
I am also here, you can email me by clicking the contact author link on this page. I promise to return a message to you!
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