‘I stand by my decision to live’

This article was submitted to the Montreal Gazette as an opinion piece by someone who has contributed to this publication in the past. In this case, the author has asked for anonymity. Quebec’s Suicide Prevention Week runs till Feb. 6.

My name is X, and I tried to commit suicide. On the night between Dec. 25 and Dec. 26, for no discernible reason, I thought to myself (heard my brain say to me) that I would never stop feeling disconnected from other people, that I would always feel like a robot faking human emotions, and the profound sadness I felt as a result would always be there.

It told me there was no point going on when going on meant feeling alone and feeling sad and feeling completely extraneous to the world around me.

That sudden thought told me I had a way out of feeling these things, a way to erase myself since I didn’t matter.

This thought told me — whispered, delicately, the suggestion — to kill myself. I had a full bottle of anti-depressants, so I had a way out. I picked up the bottle, and I swallowed all of them. I had to take three handfuls of pills to finish the bottle, and I did. I swallowed them all. I swallowed every last one. Things are a bit blurry after that. I wasn’t alone — thank God. I remember coming to, briefly, lying on the floor, my friend yelling in my face, something about 911. I remember pointing to the empty bottle.

I also remember thinking to myself, “What have I done? I don’t want to die! This is a mistake — I don’t want to die!” over and over. I remember making myself throw up. I remember being afraid I would die, and not wanting to. I remember crying.

It’s been just over a month since I tried to kill myself. I stand by my decision to live. I am very, very happy I came around and threw up. I am so glad to know, on a deep level, that I do not want to die and I will fight death, even — especially — if it comes from my own hand.

I don’t remember much from that night. I remember my mind betraying me, and my heart saving me. Most of all, I remember that no matter how bad things may seem, I would rather face them than slip into the shadows.

I remember that when I thought I was weak, I found strength, and I pushed on. I pushed myself on. I asked for help from my doctor, I now have a social worker to talk to, I told some friends and some family what happened. I have the numbers for Suicide Action Montreal and Tracom, a local crisis centre. I have people to talk to when I am in crisis. I no longer have to deal with my depression alone. No one needs to deal with it alone, and that is why I am sharing my story.

It took me a few days to recover physically from what happened that night. I’m still working on recovering mentally, which will take time, but I know that by asking for help and accepting the support of others I will get better. I will listen to my doctor, I will take my medication, I will speak with my social worker.

What I won’t do is feel ashamed for needing help. What I won’t do is try to pretend I am okay when I know I am not. What I won’t do is think I am alone — no one is alone, not me, not you.

So, that is my story. It ends well, thankfully. And because it does, I want to remind others that their story can end well, too. There are resources out there to help you. There are people out there who care about you.

There are people who are there to listen to you, and to help you through your pain. Don’t be afraid to reach out — there are people out here, waiting to catch you.