Three years ago on September 8th, I nearly took my life.
I had just gotten back from a work trip the day before. I was going to take the kids over to my parents for a day since he didn’t want to go. I would be back Saturday night or Sunday morning. I was ripping the family apart. Everything worked better when I wasn’t there. I just need to leave and not come back. I’ve struggled with suicidal thinking the majority of my life. This was exactly the permission I needed.
I gave the kids a hug. I told them how much I loved them. I grabbed my phone and a pocket knife. I had no intention of coming back that day. I didn’t want to come back. I couldn’t deal with his yelling. With his words. With his condemning everything I did. I wanted this to be the end. I had no strength. Nothing to keep going.
I walked down a creek near our house and sat on a rock and cried for several hours. Ultimately I came back, but I didn’t want to survive. I wanted to be brave and take my life, but I couldn’t. I got back up and continued living.
It’s still one of my biggest regrets. I was so close that day and wanted to be done. I wish so much that I would have had the guts to go through with it. I have to live with that mistake every day. I doubt now whether I will ever be able to go through with it.
Getting through Sept 8 will be hard. No, I likely won’t kill myself. However, that doesn’t take away the grief and regret from getting up and surviving that day. The fact that I’ll survive that day (again) doesn’t make getting through that day any easier. I mourn what could have been – an end to my story.
I’ll go to my next counseling appointment and talk about this. I’ll sit in near tears while I tell her how much I wish I could have gone through with it. I’ll tell her that I would write an online suicide support email because I could tell them exactly how close I was and talk through it without them sending someone to hospitalize me. I needed not to be talked out of it, but to not be alone with the feelings.

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