Here’s the story of the time I attempted suicide.
I woke up to snow. Since I happen to live in an area where the city government has absolutely no idea how to deal with any type of precipitation besides rain, I went to check and see if the school had cancelled classes. Of course, I was in luck and I was free for the rest of the day.
And I remember thinking, s***, I’m free for the rest of the day. What the f*** am I supposed to do with my life?
Both of my roommates had left earlier that morning. Maddie had a lacrosse tournament in Santa Barbara this weekend and Kristine decided to meet her sister in town for lunch.
I made myself a cup of peppermint tea and sat down at my computer. I took my hair out of the messy bun I slept in and tied it up into a ponytail. My tea burned hot down my esophagus.
The room was quiet. Entirely too quiet. My thoughts filled the room to the brim and I couldn’t turn them down today, despite the indie music ringing in the background.
This was my life. Lonely, and tired. Always. Thoughts screaming every single second of every single day. Any attempts at trying to suffocate or drown or stab or murder or in any way scar or mutilate these thoughts would only end up with tears racing down my chubby cheeks, blood seeping out of my wrists, and vomit in the sink. Empty containers of ice cream and plastic bags of potato chips litter the floor and I end up being swallowed whole by my relentless self critic.
Today was, of course, no different. The bottles of pills next to my chemistry textbook had been staring at me for two weeks. I had two weeks of antidepressants, a few days of muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatories for my back, and about four doses of painkillers.
The logical side of my brain- which was never there when I needed it to be- went through my “safety plan” that has been drilled into my head for weeks in my hours of therapy these past few weeks. Self soothe, get out of my room, listen to music, call friends, call the counseling center, call the hospital.
My phone dinged in a text message and I entered my password and clicked on my messages. I was expecting someone text me about the snow day and a few emojis but what I saw doubled my heart rate and made my head spin.
It was from my sister, Lydia.
There was a school shooting. We are in lockdown right now.
S***. S***, f***, dammit, what the hell?
I remember sitting there, stunned, for a few minutes. My fingers were shaking as I tried to check and see if she was safe. Were there any more shots fired? How many were injured? Was she going to be at risk? Was she scared? Was she going to be okay?
Lydia, who was scared shitless, told me that it was a boy who brought a gun to school and had killed himself. No one else. Someone else that Lydia knew had blood spattered all over his shirt because he was in the same classroom as the gun. The police had secured the area. The school was only in lockdown because they wanted to make sure that things were still safe for the remaining students.
Why am I not there to protect Lydia? What kind of s*** sister am I if I can’t even protect the people that are closest to me?
I called my dad three times. He didn’t pick up. My mom was at work at this point, so I wouldn’t be able to talk to her. I sent a few texts to my dad.
Step one: self soothe. I stood up from my desk and took a deep breath. A few of them. They didn’t help.
What was I supposed to do?
Step two: get out of my room.
I opened my door and began to meander down the hall, half hoping that there were people in our lounge so I could at least distract myself for a few minutes.
Kristen was in there with a few other people watching a popular TV show. They waved when I walked by, so I opened the door and sat in the back of the room. Someone else who was from the same area where Lydia went asked if I had heard what happened. I nodded and began staring off into space.
Even though my brain was already in one hundred percent freak out mode, I could hear other thoughts seeping into my brain.
Why can’t you f*ing keep it together? Are you really going to pull a Caleb right now and force everyone to try and take care of you? Come on, you’ve got to be kidding me- just smile and cover it up; it’s not that damn hard. People are staring, people are judging, just suck it up already.
At some point I realized that if I were to stay in the lounge for much longer, I was going to have to deal with other people watching me cry and break down and be the center of attention and I couldnt do that right then, not when I was this fat and not when I looked like that unbathed and no glasses and a mess.
I ran/walked to my room and slammed the door shut. Snow was piling on the ground and I was dissolving into nothing.
My heart was beating fast, my thoughts were colliding around in my head and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs shrank back into the back of my ribcage and I could feel my spine sucking them into the spaces in between my vertebrae.
The clouds cast a gray light in my room. It was dark, and the lights weren’t on. I looked up at my window above my desk where I had hung all of the cards, notes, and letters I had gotten from people since I moved into my dorm. They were simply echoes of people who cared. They weren’t here now, and I couldn’t blame them for that.
I don’t think I even went on my computer before pressing and twisting down on three of my bottles of pills. I dumped them all on top of my computer and stared at them.
If that boy could do it, then you know you can. You’ve been thinking about it for ages. You don’t even have the f*ing courage to just go through with it.
I was there, in that moment, to prove myself wrong.
The phone rang. People tell me that’s supposed to be a sign that I wasn’t meant to die that day, but at that point I was sick and tired of looking for “signs”. When I picked up, it was my best friend, Natalie.
“Did you hear what happened at the high school?” I asked in a unfaltering tone. S***, I underestimated to fake emotion over the phone.
“Yes. It’s awful, but thank God it’s over. What are you doing today?”
“Ah, nothing much,” I said. Tears started to break down the levees and I was in a vulnerable position. Either I follow step three, and talk to her, or I just tell her I am busy and I can’t talk right now.
“Natalie?” My voice shook that time. I had let down my guard and I knew there was no going back. “I have a lot of pills right now…”
“Olivia? Olivia? I need you to put them down, okay? I’m going to be right there. Don’t do anything, please!”
Everything went black in my brain. I convulsed and sat rocking back and forth in my chair. I heard quick footsteps running down my hall and then anxious knocks on my door. I cried louder, in zero control of myself, and I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.
I recognized the voice, and it wasn’t Natalie’s. It was Camille’s- she lived in my hall and we started out the year close, until I fell apart and I don’t think she understood what that meant.
She must have dashed down the hall and grabbed keys from Kristine, because soon I heard the door unlock and I felt her arms around my shoulders.
I sobbed for ten minutes before I could even say anything. And then I just let it all out. I spoke the words that were locked up in the deepest recesses of my mind, the things that I heard when things were really bad. These were things that I believed, in my very core, but had spent ages trying to convince myself otherwise.
“Someone killed themselves at my sister’s high school… and I need my pills… I take up too much space… I am not in control.”
“You are so loved,” Camille whispered in my ear, her voice breaking.
I rambled on more about what was bothering me before Natalie knocked on the door. Camille left me to go answer it, and with quivering hands I attempted to pick up my pills and put them all into my hand. Natalie came by me and wrapped me up in her arms, but she didn’t stop me from picking them up.
“What are you doing?” she asked sincerely.
“I need my pills. Please, just let me have my pills.” I myself even heard the desperation in my soul. It was like there was someone imprisoned beneath my lungs and my liver, and they were pushing as hard as they can to escape.
She told me that she wasn’t allowing that, and I bawled on her arm for another thirty minutes.
My phone buzzed as a reminder that I had a doctor’s appointment. F***.
I, somewhat calmly, informed both Camille and Natalie that I had to leave. I remember facing the fact that I had to look them in the eyes, with my own runny nose and puffy face and disgustingly bloodshot eyes, and that petrified me. “Don’t look at me,” I repeated over and over again while placing my hands over my face and put on my coat and rain boots.
They both accompanied me on the way to the health center in the middle of campus. Everywhere students were playing in the snow, and there were no cars to be seen. There was music blaring outside while college students laughed and made snowmen. The contrast between them and me choked me, almost. While they were out enjoying themselves, I wasn’t strong enough to face myself and wanted to die.
My appointment with my doctor was business as usual. I don’t know how the receptionist and the doctor reacted to my obvious instability, I can’t remember exactly.
What happened next blindsided me.
I was waiting to be checked out of the clinic, and since it was closing early due to the weather, I was shoved into an area for the nurses to check my vital signs.
A nurse charged past me and went into my doctor’s office. “You can’t prescribe her pain medication; her friends are sitting out there are worried about her overdosing. Just hold off.”
My doctor responded, “I didn’t prescribe her anything, what’s going on?”
The nurse repeated the situation and after my doctor confirmed that he didn’t give me any more means to harm myself, she walked by me and walked towards me. “Are you okay? Are you in the mood to hurt yourself anymore?”
I lied. I lied through my teeth. I doubt that even the time when I blatantly dishonest and told my mother that I had returned her twenty dollar bill to her wallet after going to store didn’t even begin to compare to the deceitfulness of my simple answer. “I’m fine.”
_____
Kristine lumbered into my room and packed her laundry bag for going home that weekend. I must have asked her at least five times before it clicked in my head that she was leaving for the weekend.
I knew I was going to do it again that night. A quiet calmness and surety filled me the second after I walked out of the health center into the white snow. I had sent all my “friends” away and assured them that I was okay and that all I needed was a nap.
Kristine left within ten minutes and I was alone.
I reopened all of my pill bottles and dumped everything out. I also decided to take out my painkillers and cleared out the rest of those.
This time, I cried only softly. I wasn’t as upset as I was before. I was just tired, and I needed a break.
I gathered them all in my palm.
But I realized that this might kill me, and this might be the last time that I could address those that really matter to me.
A few saltwater tears dripped onto my six page letter to the world. I included people that I didn’t think were even necessary. I included people that surprised me. I said things that I never thought would be my final parting words to people. I was ready.
I went to the sink, pills in hand, and poured everything into my mouth.
The pills went down smoothly, almost soothingly. I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
I was Olivia, and I was ending my story.