A sharp, stinging sensation disseminates as I run a blade across my forearm. Drops of blood infuse with tears and burn within the wounds...
November 2018 marked the 15 year anniversary of my suicide attempt. I can’t believe it has been that long but at the same time, it feels like it was just yesterday. Years of insecurity, low self-worth, lack of faith, and pain-evoking experiences had all played a role in me making that life-altering decision.
It all began when I was a child. I was molested when I was 8 years old by, who was once, my favorite uncle. This had shattered my world. I think what may have affected me the most was how the situation was handled after. Nobody really wanted to speak about it. Everyone dealt with the pain in silence. I felt alone. I had nobody to talk to, nobody to cry to, or at least that is how I felt at that time. I had become withdrawn. I felt dirty, insecure, and hated myself.
All this self-hatred led me to make a decision that would change my life forever. I hated myself so much that I felt that my family and this world would be better off without me. I overdosed on medication and ended up in the hospital. I felt embarrassed. I couldn’t believe I had done what I did. I remember praying for nobody that I knew to find out because I did not want anyone to think I was crazy.
It took me a while to truly digest what had happened. What did it all mean? This girl, who felt insignificant and undeserving of life, was given a second chance. I was meant to be here. My presence on this earth has a purpose.
I have spent the last 15 years exploring what that purpose is. I believe sharing my story with others is one of them. I am no longer embarrassed! I am a warrior and this is my story.