Vasu Singhania's story...
Vasu Singhania
Professor Smyth
CLTE 80A - 16
31st October, 2017
Suicide Saved Me
There is nothing scarier in life than staring at phone while your best friend, on the other end of the line, is threatening to press a kitchen knife to her own wrist. There is nothing scarier than staring at 7 pills in your hand that you know, if swallowed, could end your life in hours. All these moments, and many more, defined my life between November 2016 and February 2017. No amount of words will ever be able to capture the horror, sickness, and desperation I felt in those moments.
November 23, 2016. This date marks the first of many suicide attempts. Like many others who feel this way, there were multiple reason for feeling like death was an easier option than life. After a particularly heated argument with my parents, I locked myself in my room and made the pivotal decision to end my life. I had seen the murder movies, where killers slice flesh with ease. I had read about how death must feel like falling asleep. For some inexplicable reason I stopped crying and decided that if I was going to end my life I had an obligation to at least tell my best friend. I went to my desk, and while grabbing my phone with one hand I grabbed a pencil and paper. With shaking hands I dialed her number and while it was ringing I wrote the words “To my family and friends, I am sorry but I am dead”. My friend picked up the phone and I started crying. Through my tears I managed to explain my situation while she silently listened. After I finished, we sat in silence for what seemed like eternity. Once I had a chance to breath, I heard a soft voice shakily whisper, “I have a knife pressed into my wrist. Should I pull it up my arm?” My body instantly went rigid and my mind went blank; my best friend, who lived 100 meters away from me, was threatening to cut herself. In a flood of emotions I screamed, swore, pleaded, her to put the knife down. After this second outburst of emotion, my friend simply replied, “I feel the same way.” It was in that moment I came to the realization that me going through with this wouldn’t just affect me. It would leave my sister wondering why I wasn’t able to drive her for ice cream. My mom wouldn’t get an answer when she asked what I wanted for dinner. My friends wouldn’t be able to go to class without realizing that I am not gonna walk in late, that I am gone for good. It was these realizations that forced me to put down the knife, close my notebook, and cry myself to sleep.
February 2017. This date marks my last suicide attempt. The cycle between self hatred to self empowerment wasn’t stopping, if anything it was getting worse. I was in one of the lowest points in my life. For two weeks, I hadn’t been sleeping well or eating properly and the results were reflected in my irritable mood, drop in grades, and increased reclusiveness. I was mentally and physically broken. One day, after I woke from a nap and shuffled my way to the bathroom, I spent a good twenty minutes staring at myself in the mirror. All I heard were the nasty thoughts swirling in my head telling me I’m worthless and annoying. I opened the medicine cabinet and saw and array of different pills. One by one, I collected a small pile of pills. Realizing that I wouldn’t be able to swallow fifteen pills, I threw a few out, leaving me with an assortment of seven pills. I stared at my hand, but regardless of what I thought, the realization never sank in that these pills, if taken right now, would give me a slow and painful death over the span of a few hours. I placed the pile on my tongue and began to fill a cup with water. In that moment, pills in my mouth, cup under the faucet, and my final goodbyes running through my head, I decided to stop. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the image of someone else. I had gone from the optimistic, college bound young adult, to a disheveled, worthless, shell of a person. I understood that I needed to, and had the power to, turn my life around. I had gotten myself into this mess four months ago, and only I would drag myself through the process of reconstructing my life. It was the combination of these two simultaneous realizations that I was able to spit out the pills and drag myself over to my bed to live another day.
Suicide is a scary situation for all those involved. From the person who wants to die to their friends, to their family, even their pets feel the effects of suicide. Had I not gone through this experience, I would have never been able to see not only my true value, but the value that every life carries. We are all interconnected, everything we choose to say or do affects those around us. It’s because of this connection that we have to be conscious of our actions. We are also all valuable. We each bring something into this world what only we can bring. It is this individuality that gives meaning to life, and makes suicide akin to robbing this world of its treasure. I learned all of this through my experience as person who wanted to die so badly that they took matters into their own hands. I came out of the 4 months as a person who has changed for the better. Suicide saved me.
Professor Smyth
CLTE 80A - 16
31st October, 2017
Suicide Saved Me
There is nothing scarier in life than staring at phone while your best friend, on the other end of the line, is threatening to press a kitchen knife to her own wrist. There is nothing scarier than staring at 7 pills in your hand that you know, if swallowed, could end your life in hours. All these moments, and many more, defined my life between November 2016 and February 2017. No amount of words will ever be able to capture the horror, sickness, and desperation I felt in those moments.
November 23, 2016. This date marks the first of many suicide attempts. Like many others who feel this way, there were multiple reason for feeling like death was an easier option than life. After a particularly heated argument with my parents, I locked myself in my room and made the pivotal decision to end my life. I had seen the murder movies, where killers slice flesh with ease. I had read about how death must feel like falling asleep. For some inexplicable reason I stopped crying and decided that if I was going to end my life I had an obligation to at least tell my best friend. I went to my desk, and while grabbing my phone with one hand I grabbed a pencil and paper. With shaking hands I dialed her number and while it was ringing I wrote the words “To my family and friends, I am sorry but I am dead”. My friend picked up the phone and I started crying. Through my tears I managed to explain my situation while she silently listened. After I finished, we sat in silence for what seemed like eternity. Once I had a chance to breath, I heard a soft voice shakily whisper, “I have a knife pressed into my wrist. Should I pull it up my arm?” My body instantly went rigid and my mind went blank; my best friend, who lived 100 meters away from me, was threatening to cut herself. In a flood of emotions I screamed, swore, pleaded, her to put the knife down. After this second outburst of emotion, my friend simply replied, “I feel the same way.” It was in that moment I came to the realization that me going through with this wouldn’t just affect me. It would leave my sister wondering why I wasn’t able to drive her for ice cream. My mom wouldn’t get an answer when she asked what I wanted for dinner. My friends wouldn’t be able to go to class without realizing that I am not gonna walk in late, that I am gone for good. It was these realizations that forced me to put down the knife, close my notebook, and cry myself to sleep.
February 2017. This date marks my last suicide attempt. The cycle between self hatred to self empowerment wasn’t stopping, if anything it was getting worse. I was in one of the lowest points in my life. For two weeks, I hadn’t been sleeping well or eating properly and the results were reflected in my irritable mood, drop in grades, and increased reclusiveness. I was mentally and physically broken. One day, after I woke from a nap and shuffled my way to the bathroom, I spent a good twenty minutes staring at myself in the mirror. All I heard were the nasty thoughts swirling in my head telling me I’m worthless and annoying. I opened the medicine cabinet and saw and array of different pills. One by one, I collected a small pile of pills. Realizing that I wouldn’t be able to swallow fifteen pills, I threw a few out, leaving me with an assortment of seven pills. I stared at my hand, but regardless of what I thought, the realization never sank in that these pills, if taken right now, would give me a slow and painful death over the span of a few hours. I placed the pile on my tongue and began to fill a cup with water. In that moment, pills in my mouth, cup under the faucet, and my final goodbyes running through my head, I decided to stop. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the image of someone else. I had gone from the optimistic, college bound young adult, to a disheveled, worthless, shell of a person. I understood that I needed to, and had the power to, turn my life around. I had gotten myself into this mess four months ago, and only I would drag myself through the process of reconstructing my life. It was the combination of these two simultaneous realizations that I was able to spit out the pills and drag myself over to my bed to live another day.
Suicide is a scary situation for all those involved. From the person who wants to die to their friends, to their family, even their pets feel the effects of suicide. Had I not gone through this experience, I would have never been able to see not only my true value, but the value that every life carries. We are all interconnected, everything we choose to say or do affects those around us. It’s because of this connection that we have to be conscious of our actions. We are also all valuable. We each bring something into this world what only we can bring. It is this individuality that gives meaning to life, and makes suicide akin to robbing this world of its treasure. I learned all of this through my experience as person who wanted to die so badly that they took matters into their own hands. I came out of the 4 months as a person who has changed for the better. Suicide saved me.