1-800-273-8255 and https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
I am a suicide survivor. I survived years of suicidal ideation and one small attempt. And I am here to tell my story.
Okay, where do I start? Well, I think this would be something that those of you who read my blog would assume. Which is weird. The same way you could assume I enjoy reading and knitting and stickers make me smile you can also assume I've tried to take my own life.
But I am here and I am living. And I am eternally grateful to my parents, my support system, and whatever other divine forces and human commitment kept me moving forward into the future and into the woman I am today.
Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But, see, my problems weren't temporary. My mental illness, my misdiagnosis, the life I was suffering through-- there wasn't an end in sight. Looking back now, I'm so very grateful to know I did not end it or try to make my own ending. Because despite everything, I was living.
If I could go back and talk to my younger self, I would tell her it doesn't even matter if there is no end in sight. So what if you never get better. So what if you suffer your entire life with depression and anxiety. You are a gift to this world. I mean, I am a gift to this world. Life is a gift and just surviving is enough sometimes.
Sometimes, what you seek is not an end but an escape. When I was in my deepest pits of depression and misdiagnosis, my parents gave me options. I went to an alternative school for junior year when I couldn't stay awake long enough to make it through the school day. Even little options, like watching an episode instead of struggling through more brain fog and homework, gave me a small relief.
I loved traveling during these years, as drugged out as I was. The summers we spent in Eastern Europe, London, South America-- those were the only months out of the year I really wanted to be living. Exiting through the gift shop. The cruise ship buffets. I would stumble down the Italian pavement clutching my parent's hands, and I would see how big and vast this world is.
Not everyone has the luxuries I do. I did not spend one night in the hospital, not even the night I really tried to kill myself, because my parents were there for me. My god, were they there for me. I should not be here right now, but I defeated the odds because of them. My sister too. I am so blessed.
If you don't have that gift of unconditionally perfect parents, know they are absolutely trying their best. I'm sure my parents didn't have it easy either. I heard my parents break down and cry. Watching your child go through something like that must be the most painful and heartbreaking thing you can live with. It's no one's fault. But it hurts everyone nonetheless.
I'm not sure how to end this other than to say this is not the end. I will continue telling my story, sharing my truths, because I was given a second chance at the miracle of life. If you are struggling, reach out. Preferably to a mental health professional, and I am not one (yet), but I am here to listen and to talk and to work through the hard days, one at a time. Because sometimes, that's all you can do.
With love,
Rivi
riviwriter@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.dollinger.7
P.S. As I quickly googled this term to try and find a definition I could cut and paste, it seems as though there are arguments whether the term refers to someone who survived a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation ONLY, or if the term also includes those who lost a loved one to suicide. I'm not too concerned about that, although I haven't heard of people calling themselves suicide survivors if they lost someone else. It's a whole rabbit hole I don't want to go down. Here's a link for an interesting article if you care to read further
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| http://eponis.tumblr.com/post/113798088670/everything-is-awful-and-im-not-okay-questions-to |
Okay, where do I start? Well, I think this would be something that those of you who read my blog would assume. Which is weird. The same way you could assume I enjoy reading and knitting and stickers make me smile you can also assume I've tried to take my own life.
But I am here and I am living. And I am eternally grateful to my parents, my support system, and whatever other divine forces and human commitment kept me moving forward into the future and into the woman I am today.
Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But, see, my problems weren't temporary. My mental illness, my misdiagnosis, the life I was suffering through-- there wasn't an end in sight. Looking back now, I'm so very grateful to know I did not end it or try to make my own ending. Because despite everything, I was living.
If I could go back and talk to my younger self, I would tell her it doesn't even matter if there is no end in sight. So what if you never get better. So what if you suffer your entire life with depression and anxiety. You are a gift to this world. I mean, I am a gift to this world. Life is a gift and just surviving is enough sometimes.
Sometimes, what you seek is not an end but an escape. When I was in my deepest pits of depression and misdiagnosis, my parents gave me options. I went to an alternative school for junior year when I couldn't stay awake long enough to make it through the school day. Even little options, like watching an episode instead of struggling through more brain fog and homework, gave me a small relief.
I loved traveling during these years, as drugged out as I was. The summers we spent in Eastern Europe, London, South America-- those were the only months out of the year I really wanted to be living. Exiting through the gift shop. The cruise ship buffets. I would stumble down the Italian pavement clutching my parent's hands, and I would see how big and vast this world is.
Not everyone has the luxuries I do. I did not spend one night in the hospital, not even the night I really tried to kill myself, because my parents were there for me. My god, were they there for me. I should not be here right now, but I defeated the odds because of them. My sister too. I am so blessed.
If you don't have that gift of unconditionally perfect parents, know they are absolutely trying their best. I'm sure my parents didn't have it easy either. I heard my parents break down and cry. Watching your child go through something like that must be the most painful and heartbreaking thing you can live with. It's no one's fault. But it hurts everyone nonetheless.
I'm not sure how to end this other than to say this is not the end. I will continue telling my story, sharing my truths, because I was given a second chance at the miracle of life. If you are struggling, reach out. Preferably to a mental health professional, and I am not one (yet), but I am here to listen and to talk and to work through the hard days, one at a time. Because sometimes, that's all you can do.
With love,
Rivi
riviwriter@gmail.com
https://www.facebook.com/rebecca.dollinger.7
P.S. As I quickly googled this term to try and find a definition I could cut and paste, it seems as though there are arguments whether the term refers to someone who survived a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation ONLY, or if the term also includes those who lost a loved one to suicide. I'm not too concerned about that, although I haven't heard of people calling themselves suicide survivors if they lost someone else. It's a whole rabbit hole I don't want to go down. Here's a link for an interesting article if you care to read further
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