Surviving

I've attempted suicide. Multiple times.

One of the most saddening things about having suicidal thoughts is that I'm asked why I want to die.

The truth is, I really don't.


I want to be able to breathe without tremors. I want to wake up every morning excited for the day. I want to kiss my boyfriend, Michael, to say "good morning" even though he won't be up for a while. I want to make myself up and make sure I look cute for the day. I want to make pancakes and sunshine toast. I want to kiss my boyfriend again as he comes stumbling in the kitchen. I want to eat whatever I want because it tastes good. I want to cuddle with Michael as we watch tv. I want to kiss him "good night" and wait until he falls asleep until I do the same.

I want to go to class and participate in discussion and learn as much as I can about everything I can. I want to do my assignments on time and motivate myself to do my best. I want to hang out with my friends and laugh as they tease me. I want to call my parents every day and see how they're doing. I want to call and text Michael every night so he doesn't forget how much I love him. I want to go to sleep excited for another day of pure bliss.

But my days aren't like that.

Let's see how it is in reality.

I suffer from panic attacks. I usually have at least four a week and they come at random times. The attacks really hurt me physically because I'm so used to suppressing them. Having childhood asthma gave me the chronic fear of not being able to breathe and that's what panic attacks usually do.

Most mornings, I lay in bed for a few hours because I don't want to face the day. I don't want to go through a day of yelling, anxiety, panic attacks, stress, and crying.

I don't want to seem like an obsessive, clingy girlfriend. I'm so used to people pushing me away. I constantly need reassurance that I'm loved and cared about. But I know that can be annoying, so I don't push. But that also makes me anxious because I don't have that reassurance.

It's hard to be confident when I'm overweight. I don't want to bother making myself up if I don't look my best. I don't want to wear cute dresses if they bring attention to my big stomach or my fat arms. I have bags under my eyes and a shadow around my mouth. And I can't even begin to understand makeup. I'd rather stay in the baggy clothes I slept in.

Sometimes I'm even too depressed to make anything but a bowl of cereal. I am so in love with making food, which is even more depressing because I'm almost never in the mood to make good food. It's a vicious cycle.

For my height and frame, I should be around 110-120 pounds. To be honest, I would be happy with 149. I would be so confident, even though I would be a bit chubby. But it's really hard for me to find the motivation to lose weight. After a month, I give up because I have no self-esteem and I don't see results. I believe I'll be overweight forever.

For the first twelve years of my schooling, I would be stared at every time I raised my hand, let alone speak. I was once cornered in a locker room because a few girls thought my lisp was hilarious.

I don't want to just meet the requirements for assignments, but that is what I settle for. Low self-confidence breeds low motivation to do my best because I'm scared of how horrible my best is. 

I go to sleep anxious about how much worse the next day will turn out.

But I do not regret not killing myself.

I would not have experienced college and the freedom that comes with it.

I would not have met all of my new friends, who are some of the most wonderful people I have ever met.

I would also not have met my bubbly boyfriend that sticks by me no matter what and makes me feel important.

I would not have gained the wisdom and the knowledge that things, in fact, do get better once you break away from the life you had before. And it will happen.

My last attempt happened on May of this year, almost three months ago. Because I had returned to my home after ten months of that freedom and suddenly I was miserable again. And I forgot everything that was important to me. I'm now working on getting an apartment on campus so I do not have to come back and live in this city again. I'm going to try my hardest to make it better.