It's suicide awareness month, and I don't regret my suicide attempts.

I’m lying in bed this morning, and all I want to do is sleep. I want to sleep and never wake up; the pain is unbearable. It’s a type of pain that is so hard to describe that I feel like I just don’t even have the proper vocabulary to express what I’m feeling. So, here I am, home alone and wanting to sleep but I can’t. I have a stash of pill bottles on my night stand, so I pick one up. I decide to take what’s left of the bottle that holds the medication that I use to sleep at night. A few hours later, I wake up. Still in bed, still home alone, still wanting more sleep. At this point I follow my safety plan and go to the hospital. I wish I hadn’t woken up.

It’s about a month later, and I’ve been out of the hospital for a few weeks. My medications have changed a bit, and some of my symptoms have lessened, but the pain lingers. That indescribable pain is still there, and I feel like the hospital stay was a waste of time. I usually feel that way. Anyway, it’s a month later, and my symptoms are getting worse. My mood is incredibly low, and the voices are getting louder, angrier. I want to escape the world the voices have brought me to, but I don’t have a way out. Then, an option is presented to me while I’m cutting an avocado. “Cut your wrist with that knife, and we’ll stop bothering you,” said a voice. Feeling desperate, I listen. I don’t even give myself time to decide what to do, I just act. Before I realize what I’m doing, I look down to see my hand guiding and pressing the knife as it glides against my skin. Just like before, I follow my safety plan and go to the hospital. I wish I had cut deeper.

I’ve now made it to September, suicide awareness month. I reflect back on these incidents and acknowledge how they have shaped my life. I also acknowledge the fact that one of them could have ended my life. I always hear stories of people who have attempted suicide and are so grateful for not having succeeded. I don’t feel this way. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily wish I had died a few months back, but I also still feel the pain. Again, that indescribable pain.

Of course, all I think about when I’m dying to die is the people I would leave behind. My life and my person have grown and intertwined around the people close to me like a vine, depending on the structure that holds me up. I know I am the structure that holds others up, and I don’t want to leave them to fall. But still, the pain persists, and I so desperately want it to end.

So, for suicide awareness month, I want to recognize all of the people who want to end their lives, the people who have tried to end their lives, and the people who have felt this indescribable pain. Let us all be conscious of everyone’s stories and individual paths. Regretting a suicide attempt is valid and so is regretting an unsuccessful attempt. I often feel broken because my position is less talked about, and I want anyone reading this to recognize at least one thing: suicide id not cut and dry. Suicide is messy and complex, and we’re all trying to understand it in our own way.