shemindfreak .

My Own Raw '13 Reasons Why' Story

I have lived with suicide ideation since I was 13 years old. I grew up in a strict Jehovah's Witness family and formed sort of Stockholm syndrome effects along with suicide ideation. My captors, in this case, being my mother and the rest of my siblings. I ignored my depression because I would hear that it was a teenager phase. After I turned 20, I had come to realize it was not a teenager phase. After I sought therapy behind my mother's back, I had concluded that my illness was not an illness but the direct factor of my religion causing me extreme anxiety. As a Jehovah's Witness, you are controlled in every aspect of your life: what job you get, what friends you have, what you do for entertainment, what you can and cannot wear. I was a mess and developed social anxiety from being constantly observed and judged by my church and family and even by my closest two-faced friends there. When I turned 24, I hit a breaking point, I couldn't be around people without freaking out and had to quit my job as a waitress because I would throw up. I felt so broken and trapped and had no friends outside of church because the Jehovah's Witness church enforces you to only associate with people of the church. I felt this was it, this is how they control you; they tell you to not talk to anyone else because when you want to leave you'll feel forced to stay. At this point, my suicide ideation became more active and I tried drinking roach poison but found the bottle to be empty. See, I didn't care if it made me sick and didn't kill me, I was just trying to destroy my body at this point. I didn't care how and this was the beginning of severe suicide ideation. I had lost all fear to die. I had created an Instagram account blankxspace1991 (which you're welcome to follow) or at the time was emilieautumnfanpage and decided to vent online to strangers. This would be the beginning of so much pain and misery. These strangers offered me a place to stay after moving out with an old church friend and things going south. I decided to move with a girl online that I have only spoken to on the phone from California. I had continued my suicide ideation but met a guy online from Brazil around the time that I lived with my mom. After moving to California my plan was to see this boy and I made him my reason to not kill myself. He wouldn't leave me alone but I had broken up with him two times, telling him I was going to kill myself. I did not kill myself and we got back together. After a terrible disagreement between my online friend and her boyfriend, I was kicked out. I moved in with my boss who, to my surprise, lived in a dirty warehouse; he tried to harass me and I still stayed. After the suicide ideation continued, I often thought of stabbing myself but feared not having the strength to keep stabbing I only thought of it. I kept crying and my boss told me I needed to smile and I lost my mind and got fired for not smiling. Though in reality, I probably got fired for not giving in to him. I left the warehouse and moved in with another friend but had to leave because they were under housing. I moved to Dallas with, yet again, another online stranger friend. I had decided to go to the hospital and had broken up with the boyfriend from Brazil after fearing I would seriously kill myself this time. I left without saying anything to him. Instead of killing myself, I admitted myself to a mental hospital called the Seay Center in Plano, Texas. I had expected that I was in hands of professionals but I was not. My psychiatrist, Dr. Aina, wanted to focus on talking about meds. He did not care or maybe he just preferred to ignore the therapy part. For the nine days that I stayed there I felt suicidal, I even thought of trading rooms with someone that was sleeping next to a schizophrenic patient. Though I expressed my suicide ideation of wanting to be killed by that patient in group therapy. If I'm here and want to get help, I can't hide any bit of my thoughts. The new patients were starting to be predominately alcoholic men to which I felt triggered after the incident with my boss. I went to my room and cried and the medical technicians surrounded me. One medical technician named Janice came into my room to tell me to try making a mantra which helped her. She saw me crying and the last thing I can think of is anything positive. I told her I did not want to go because at the moment I was feeling terrible. My medication wasn't working, my suicide ideation continued thinking could I bang my head hard enough in the shower? Here is the perfect place to die I thought. Nobody knows me, nobody really can stop me. Janice then told me do you want to be sad in your room or do you want to try to feel better? I told her that I did not appreciate her using the word want. To which she repeated again do you want to be sad in your room? I said I don't want to do it. And she sighed, rolled her eyes, and stomped out of my room. To which I yelled at her, "Oh yeah you rolling your eyes is really going to make me feel better." That was my breaking point, my meds were not working and I was being attacked by this fucking bitch. This bitch that reminds me of every fucking person telling me that I want to be sad. Including that boyfriend from Brazil that called my depression and reactions immature.