The S Word

Mention 'The S Word' to someone, and 9 times out of 10, they'll deflect, maybe stifle a nervous laugh, and move onto another subject. It's not a comfortable topic for anyone, especially if you're the initiator. But we often ignore the fact that talking about things usually makes them less scary. I wish people were more willing to make things less scary for each other.

When I was younger and was suicidal, I was self harming daily. Sometimes because I needed to, sometimes because it was just a part of my daily routine, so it felt like I'd forgotten something important if I didn't do it. I would snap the blades out of my Lady Bic Razor and cover my arms, thighs & hips in cuts.

When comments were made about there being no razors left in the house & where they kept going, I moved on to sneaking glasses out of the kitchen and going into the garage to smash them, then using the shards. People would give me such evil and pitiful looks whenever my wrists were accidentally exposed, it made me feel so ashamed of myself. Soon, I became smarter in my methods, and instead of cutting myself, I would bang my wrists and ankles against tables and bed posts until angry, purple bruises blossomed across my skin.

I have come to a point in my life now that I don't have the energy or need to do this anymore. I do still have urges, as I imagine any person would when they suffered from an addiction (and I do truly think it was an addiction.) Being completely truthful, self harming offered such a purgative experience that I needed in order to get to grips with life again. It offered the physical relief I needed to say, "Okay, I feel better now, let's move on." It was a crutch to be able to get on with day to day things without having my head overflow with the monotony of misery and self loathing. People say that suicide is a cry for help, and it was for me as well. I never wanted to actually die, I just wanted to stop 'being'.

Being a suicidal child is like being trapped in a glass box & not being able to figure out how to open the door. Everyone can see what's going on, but they keep giving you solutions to other problems. Allie Brosh described it as having your pet fish die, and people would offer to help you look for your lost fish. I wasn't getting the offers of help that I actually needed, I was getting solutions to problems that either didn't exist or didn't need solving. I think part of issue was that I was 13 at the time, and also that I am a girl. I can't think that many people take suicide threats from teenage girls very seriously. I remember telling my therapists and my doctors and my school that I just wanted to go away. I needed to leave the situation I was in and take some time out to find myself again. I even said that I'd be happy to be sectioned if it meant I could just be elsewhere for a while. I think my resolve to kill myself was the last resort for me, if nobody would listen. Death is elsewhere, I suppose.

I've tried talking online about about my experiences with suicide before, but it always felt really weird, and I would soon delete it, lest I be pinned as 'attention seeking'. Maybe it is, in a way. I certainly think mental health deserves to have more attention drawn to it. It amazes me that an illness that makes people want to physically hurt themselves still isn't harbouring enough attention, or the right attention.

The first time I saw the film Girl, Interrupted I sat and thought to myself, depression really isn't this glamorous. It's not making new, crazy friends and running about with manic pixie dream girls and getting up to mischief and kissing boys. At least, it wasn't for me. My experience was more on the beige end of the spectrum. I wouldn't shower for weeks, I would only get out of bed to piss and drink from the bathroom tap, I would drink down a spoonful of my medication on a week-old empty stomach. Rinse repeat. It never sat well with me that suicide and mental illness was depicted as something inherently cool and interesting in films. I was certainly not feeling very cool or interesting when I was experiencing it.

Somebody once said to me that they couldn't think of one person who suffered so miserably, and didn't come through it more kind and soft and gentle. My cynicism and misanthropy dictates my ability, but in my quest for stability and happiness, I have found joy in wishing these things for other people. Perhaps that's just where I have to begin.