This Is My Plea

And suddenly, there is the idea of jumping to just get away. There is the idea that everything around us has become unbearably heavy. Too heavy in fact, and there is no end in sight, no relief ahead and nothing promising in the horizon. There is the heavy weight of nothingness, which no one else can see but yet, only you and I can feel it.

There are the people in our life that we’d never want to hurt or let down. And there are relationships we have that mean so much. It’s not that they don’t. It’s not that we don’t love anyone. It’s that we can’t see our way through. We can’t see our own worth. We can’t find our own value. We feel like a burden. Everything is raw. Everything seems so goddamned mismatched. And everything seems so goddamned complicated, but like it or not, this is life.

Ever have this kind of mindset:

-You want to step out of this. You want to climb out and be free.
-You want a minute. Just a goddamned minute.
It’s hard to see the world this way.
God forbid you tell anyone or talk about this because, hell, if we say anything or tell anyone; then we have to deal with it. Then we’ll have to face this and talk about it. But why?
Why bother? It’s not like anyone else gets it.

There is this little room where we keep ourselves.
Let’s call this place what it is –
It’s the mind.
Here we have maps and pictures, memories and files of experience.
We have dreams, fears, worries, concerns
We have aspirations and hopes
We have regrets and files upon files of our mistakes
We have this kid inside that just wants to laugh and play
And the kid has needs
We have this need to be, to fit, to be able to walk in any direction without worrying who goes, who stays, who we let down, and of course, who will let us down. We want to be able to go in whichever direction and not be afraid that someone will bully or abandon, expose or embarrass us. We want to be free from the ideas that someone might betray and reject us.

We have preconceived notions and biases. We jump to conclusions on behalf of fears and the distractions caused by the misleading calculations of our wild misperceptions.
Misperceptions. I like that word.
This means to understand or perceive incorrectly; to misunderstand, which happens often. Yet, we seldom see this as a misunderstanding. Instead, we take our misperceptions and perceive them as law because after all, this is how we “Feel” and this is what we “Believe”.
Therefore this must be true.

I don’t know how many people understand. I don’t know if anyone understands.
I don’t know why this is such a constricting idea.
It’s suffocating . . .
Mental illness?
What kind of words are these
Emotionally disturbed?
Who says this to someone?
Who wants this?

This is why people keep things to themselves. This is why more than 50% of people that are struggling with anxiety or depression or any kind of depressive disorder keep this to themselves. Less than half of the people that struggle will reach out. And why?
Well, first is the stigma that comes with being “Labeled”.
Second, (and I say this from my own experience) is because there’s a sense of hopelessness that comes with depressive thinking. There is the wasteful idea of “Why bother?” that comes with suicidal ideation.
Plus, who wants to be a burden to anyone else.
As it is, when you’re stuck, you already feel like a burden. And the bitch of it is when you’re stuck, the people that come and tell you “You can always come to me,” say this to us, they don’t realize how even their beautiful words and sentiment can hurt down to the core.
I never wanted to feel like a mental invalid, or handicapped, or disabled. I grew up with these inaccurate ideas that taught me how to “Be”. Only, I never fit in that way.

I never dared to talk or tell anyone what was going on inside of my head. I was too afraid of rejection. I was too ashamed. Too embarrassed and too lonely because living the way I lived was an absolute fraud. I had to pretend and act “As if”.
I had to go along to get along.
But this never worked for me
To never feel free; to never be comfortable in your own skin.
To constantly wonder when it’s all going to go wrong.
To wait for the impending doom: “It’s all gonna happen any minute now.”
You just watch.
Just you wait and see . . .

This is why you want to step out.
This is why you want to just get away.
You want to jump out of it and get away from everything.
But how?

Someone once told me, “Just give it a minute and let it turn to something else.”
I waited.
It didn’t turn.
Just give it a little more time.
I waited
But I was never sure what I was waiting for.

Someone once told me, “Suicide is a permanent fix to a temporary problem”.
I get that
But sometimes temporary ideas can become permanent if we don’t address them.

That’s why I never say “It’s okay,” or “It’ll all get better.”
I don’t ever make promises that I cannot keep.
Anguish is very real. Heartache and pain is very real.
Beliefs are real too.
Even if what we believe is inaccurate; the truth is this is still real to us.

I am in fact a survivor of this.
I am in fact a survivor of my own hand. 
At the time, I saw no other option and no other hope.
At the time, I swore this was it.
Might as well.

When I woke up and realized what had occurred, I also realized that I was still alive. In part, my first thought was that I failed.
In part, I was scared of what I had just done to myself. I was capable. I learned how easy this was; to go, to end it all, to walk away, and yet, in part, I wept with all I had because somewhere deep inside of me was at least a glimmer of hope. Otherwise, I’d be gone.

And this is another reason why I never dared to speak about this with anyone else. If I spoke then I might lose my nerve. I might lose the courage it takes to abandon everything (including myself) and then I would pause or stall and not go forward.

More than anything, I never believed that I could feel better.
I was wrong.
And to be honest, I was almost dead wrong.

The proudest moment I’ve had in all my life was after a 10-minute speech I gave to a gymnasium full of 9th grade students. I spoke for 10 minutes and it took me over two hours to leave the building. There were pods of kids making pacts with one another. “We are not going to kill ourselves today.”
They did this on their own. I did not tell them what to say. They did this.
One of the kids pulled me to the side. She was scared and crying. She was going to do it.
She was going to end it.
But she didn’t.

Know why this had an impact?
It’s because they understood.

Coincidentally, one of the parents called to complain about this. They were angry to learn that this happened in their school. Meanwhile, one of their kids was one of the kids in the huddle.
No wonder why people keep to themselves.
How dare I make them cry or feel or address something so painfully real –
Who wants to be honest and open, only to be admonished by the people that are supposed to love them the most?
No one wants to deal with this. And I get it.
Pre-covid, someone committed suicide every 40 seconds.
Imagine what those numbers are like now after Covid has done its damage.

There is always something to live for – even if that something is simple and small, then do it.
Live for it. Even if only for a minute.

There was a man I call Mathias.
He understood.
He was there for me. I took what he gave me and paid it forward.
I only wish I was there to repay him when it counted.
They found my friend Mathias, home alone.
Dead by his own hand and hanging, the same way I tried to hang myself.
I wish I had the chance to talk to him.
I could have saved him the same way he saved me.

Suicide is very real.
But it doesn’t have to be so deadly.
Not if we face it: TOGETHER

If you or someone you know needs help.
Please reach out.

And please accept this plea from me:
Don’t do it.
Trust me, there is a way out.
Reach out to someone.
And if you can’t find anyone
Reach out to me.
I’m always around.

3 thoughts on “This Is My Plea

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