My eyes open reluctantly. My head feels heavy and my mind is numb. I see my mom sobbing, feel my dad checking my pulse.
It’s February 28th, 2006 and I had just tried to commit suicide.
This day had been coming for a number of years. All the pressure that I had been under, all the humiliations I’ve been through, all the sadness, pain and misery erupted in a desperate act to end it all.
When I think back to those years, I see that the yearning to physically stop existing was just a result of the deadness I already felt inside. My life had turned into a living hell and it seemed to get worse every single day.
When One Incident Determines Your Fate
I remember the night before taking an overdose quite clearly. I had positioned my dad’s stationary bike in front of the TV in the living room to work out while I was watching one of my favorite TV shows, Ally McBeal.
Watching TV downstairs was always risky because I knew that once my brother was going to come home, he’d want to take over instantly. But I didn’t have that channel on the TV in my room, so I took the risk. I wish I hadn’t.
The scenario that followed after my brother entered the door coming home from soccer practice was the same I had experienced a million times.
Without so much as a question, he came in, took the remote control and changed the channel. My reaction to this arrogant and humiliating behavior changed on how strong I felt. On this evening, I fought. I protested.
I tried to get the remote back, but failed. I don’t know if he hit me, but it doesn’t matter. He had humiliated me already in taking away my rights of being equal to him. I sobbed. I was crushed, but not surprised.
This action may seem minor to you, petty even, but it was only the tip of the iceberg. I had suffered 17 years of being belittled, beaten up, mentally abused and completely run down by this guy three years older than me.
I had tried to stand up for myself and had been beaten harder because of it. But on that night, it was just too much.
As so often, I needed sleeping meds to go to sleep and find a little piece and quiet. Why was I not strong enough to move out? Why had I deserved this? Why me?
Because you’re worthless. You deserve it.
I believed him.
When he screamed at me the next morning for reasons I cannot remember, I was done. I had had enough. All my strength was gone.
All my willingness to hold on to the few good things in my life evaporated. All my love for my family was overwritten by a feeling of numbness. All my hope crushed and all I wanted was to disappear forever.
So, I quietly went upstairs, took an overdose of sleeping meds, wrote a short letter explaining why I had decided to end it all and went to bed.
Saying that I thought of anybody else in that situation would be the biggest lie I ever told. The truth is that once you hit rock bottom, your misery takes over all of your thoughts and feelings and you become the most selfish person in the world.
I did not care that my mom was going out of her mind. I did not feel for my baby sister who couldn’t believe what had just happen. I did not care about how this might have affected my father.
It was all about me and how I longed for being gone.
The mixture of emotions I felt during the next few days are hard to describe. In one minute I would laugh hysterically only to go into an endless stream of tears. For a while I felt like I was losing my mind.
I wish I could tell you that from this point on, my life had turned around, my family woken up and my brother banned from our home forever. None of this happened.
My depression worsened, my eating disorder got more serious and my life was going in no direction whatsoever.
Yet, I was unable to make any changes, wasn’t strong enough to be on my own.
It would take me 5 more years to really get back on my feet, graduate from high school and start going to university.
I would have to get married and admit myself to a treatment facility to be treated for anorexia before I could even being to understand the beauty of life and why it is worth fighting for.
But it is.
Why Live Is Always Worth Fighting For
It is worth fighting for a place where you get up in the morning and be excited about the day.
It is worth fighting for a time when you are not crippled by a numbness that is keeping you from inhaling life.
It is worth fighting for a day when you feel free, happy and fulfilled.
It is worth pushing through even the hardest of struggles because when you come back out, you will be stronger.
Yes, I have gone through a lot of unnecessary shit, but I am at a place where I don’t wish for those years to disappear.
Those years shaped the person I am today. Those years made me a fighter, an optimist and a girl who is ready to embrace life with both arms, no matter what it throws in her way.
Hitting rock bottom, feeling like you’re completely crushing and then building yourself up again is an extremely difficult, but also incredibly enlightening and rewarding experience.
It terrifies you, it drains you, it makes you insecure and sometimes breaks a part of yourself, but it never makes you weaker.
My past has made me more mature than most people my age. It has given me an incredible perspective on what life really is about.
It has given me the capacity to let go and move on, even when it hurts like hell and you don’t have all the answers you wished for. It has given me a clear and unwavering quest for justness that will be with me until the day I die.
We all go through hard times. We all deal with crisis. We all have moments when we don’t think we can move on.
It is easy to fall into the trap of believing you’re never going to see the other side of it.
It is easy to feel helpless and powerless and to want to give up trying.
Yet, when we do, we grow, we transform, we evolve.
It’s time to wake up and see those rough times as chances to reevaluate everything in your life and make the best out of it.
So get up, shake the fears, let go off the misery and reclaim your life.
You can do it.
I believe in you.Tweet