Staying Alive

 He was the one I had when others had passed away, but he was the gone. He died. He was the one I wanted when my maternal great-grandmother, fraternal grandmother, and fraternal grandfather passed away; I had him to hug and make me laugh. But Pawpaw was the one being put in the ground. He was the one I went to when I needed encouragement, a laugh, or a shoulder to cry on and when he I heard he died, I literally felt my heartbreak. That was my first though my of suicide. 

On October 31st my family and I laid to Pawpaw to rest. I stopped my mind, body, and soul from grieving. I wanted to be the one who was there for my mother, who had last her father. I wanted to be there for my brother, two cousins, who had lost their grandfather. Even though I had also lost someone special to them, I never actually let it show. I fell deeper and deeper into the darkness of my mind. I started self-harming to feel pain and to show myself that I am, at the time, sadly, still alive. That was my second thought of suicide. 

Graduating high school was fun, then came a community college in Alabama. I made some friends and gave my virginity to someone I had no feelings for. I also had my first boyfriend...I think. When we broke up, he had a girlfriend the next day. That was my third thought of suicide:

I was sexually assaulted, in my grandmothers old apartment, the one Pawpaw died in. I knew I shouldn't have answered the door, I knew I shouldn't have let him in. That monster was way taller, but younger, I should have stopped it. But at least it didn't go any further than touching. That was my fourth thought of suicide. 

I confided into my two friends, my only friends. Not much was said. Them and I stopped being friends when I kept canceling plans because the darkness of my mind made me think they actually hate me and those plans seemed so overwhelming. They were the only friends I had, that was my fifth thought of suicide. 

I soon made contact with an old friend, they seemed to try to force me to stop hurting myself. It made me do it more. I turned 21 with that friendship and we soon started drinking. The drinking made me forget pain, so I wanted to do it again and again. And again.... drinking made me think of suicide again. 

With drinking comes feeling bloated and tummy aches. I started making myself throw up. I wished to make myself look like the pretty women with real boobs instead of the pancakes I have. But I still drank, until darkness came over and I fell asleep on the bathroom floor. My friends boyfriend, or whatever, talked me into buying weed. At the time it was illegal in my state, but I obliged because I felt I needed to fit in with them, and I wanted to spend time with a cute guy. We got pulled over. Thankfully we only got a warning. That was the seventh time. 

The eighth time, I felt like shit when my grandmother and I had an argument. It felt as if nothing I do is worth while. And nothing was done correctly. I had the knife to my wrist. When my mother messaged me and at the time my dog walked into the kitchen as I sat in the floor. Her eyes begged me not too, and put up the knife and held her on my lap. 

February 12th, 2021. I became one year clean of self harm and sober. Today (September 07, 2021) when I am writing this, I am going back home from being at the beach. I have made a small support system. Some of them didn't even know all of this I am sharing now. A lot of people didn't know anything I am sharing now. 

You're probably asking "what's your point in this?" My point? It's simple. STAY ALIVE! You have no idea what you mean to people. You make someone's life better in some way, small or big. You matter. Your life matters. Share your story of surviving your worst moments. You are loved. And when you feel like no one cares about you, remember the person who wrote this cares about you. I don't know your name, but if you've read this, I love you, and you matter to me.