A couple weeks ago, I posted a 911 call that I found particularly disturbing, yet also enlightening. This call contained a little girl, no older than 10, who had just discovered that her brother shot himself. Needless to say, she was hysterical. See the post above for more information
I also talked about the impact that had on me. I talked about how, me being suicidal, that makes me think about the effect it would have on other people when my mind wanders to that area of thought. [Part 1 is much more in-depth, I just didn’t want to post the same thing twice]
I also said that I would post a part two, telling you all about my experiences in this subject, which is what this is:
Mine aren’t nearly as severe as some: I’ve never attempted, and I’ve never known someone that succeeded, but I feel it shareable material nonetheless.
We’ll start with me: I’ve been depressed and suicidal, the roots of which started in 7th grade, and which reached its culmination towards the end of my freshman year. I started going to a therapist the summer after Freshman year, and this past October (My Junior year) we decided to start me on an antidepressant, Lexapro. I’ve mostly had fantastic results; but the “May cause an increase in suicidal thoughts and actions, especially in teens and young adults” did apply to me one day. I found myself writhing in emotional agony in the McDonald’s bathroom, with my pocket knife to my throat. Thankfully, that’s as far as it went. Oddly enough, it was the day after I saw this video. O.o The weird part of this wasn’t that I was more suicidal, but that it made me more suicidal for one day. Not even a full day, really. Like, an hour. Anyway. Other than that, I’ve been much better, though not where I’d like to be, since I’ve started my Lexapro.
Now my friend: (I’ve changed her name, for obvious reasons) Joan hasn’t led the best of lives. She has (in her words) a deadbeat whore of a mother, and her father can’t hold a job, so they’re not exactly well-off. It seems to me that she’s pretty depressed, maybe bipolar, even. (not a professional diagnosis, obviously, but I would call it very likely, based on my experience with both of them) She had attempted suicide many times in the past, before we had met. She talked to me about doing it, but hadn’t attempted since we met. But then one night, she was talking about it, and she seemed really serious. Then suddenly, she stopped responding to my texts. So I was faced with a decision: Trust that she’s okay, or dial my local emergency number? (As I am in the US, its 911) There shouldn’t have been much of a decision to make, but I thought there was. I decided to call 911. Roughly an hour later, I find out that she is, indeed, okay. She was naturally pissed off at me. While she isn’t mad at me any more, we never regained our relationship completely, and I never found out about another attempt until afterwards. While this is so, I still don’t regret calling, because I know I couldn’t bear it if she died because I didn’t.
I forgot what the point of this was. But I said I’d post it, so here I am, three weeks later, posting it.