World Suicide Prevention Day

“We live to fight for another day”

Recommended song; Listen Before I Go by Billie Eilish.

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I thought it was nothing when it started.
Subtle mood swings that imperceptibly morphed into long melancholic dispositions.
They were just songs for the cloudy days until the lyrics became a mirror image of my thoughts.
Its was just a plot for my next big story until I became the character of my imagination, the center piece of my sad creation.
Its real and it’s painful especially because you are already neck deep into the dark dreary abyss of desolation and getting out of here is a mission so impossible, Tom Cruise can’t handle it and the only way out is south.

Saturday evening around 5 o’clock, I took a walk to visit my family. I bought 3 bouquets of flowers; white lillies, pink cherry blossoms and purple lilacs. Husband, daughter, son.
Standing above them, looking at their names engraved into the tombstones, I started to feel jealous. The accident that took them away 730 days ago left me behind and alone. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to be happy and it felt like a memory of another person.
I took a stroll around the cemetery to see the dates of the others that laid there and to check out the latest additions. Truth be told, the feeling of jealousy grew stronger. It was a cold beautiful and quiet place and deep within me I felt that this was what I needed. A perfect self isolated chamber, sealed into oblivion.

As I got home that night, the thoughts, pain and tears returned. Prior to that day, I have never hurt myself.
And then, for the first time I was holding a blade, the same knife I used to chop onions for breakfast became my key to happiness. The voices in my head raging with joy as my broken self saw her liberation like that bright light at the end of the dark tunnel. Amidst the turmoil, I felt that nagging persona still trying to warn me of the torments of hell. The internal struggle began, conversations with myself.

Mind and body detached from each other. My fingers were working with a mind of their own as they began to place pressure on the cold sharp blade that was against my pulsating vessel but my mind still contemplating.

Then, I heard footsteps that broke me out of what seemed to be a trance.
I wiped my tears and put on the brightest smile my broken self could muster at that point in time. It was my mom. She always promised me that I’d be alright and yeah,for a while I thought so too until I started slipping.As I looked at her in that moment I imagined how she would have felt if I had set myself free. Her darling daughter, bleeding out her life.

I had never been so dissapointed in myself. I needed help, who would care?
I tried to speak up, I prayed, I screamed, I cried, I really believed tried. It only got worse. Dealing daily with my soul banging and pleading to be free. Echoes of my mind.

In a world filled with individuals dealing with their personal problems, you have to seek your solutions alone sometimes and, it doesn’t always make sense.
So yeah, I did it again. No blades this time though, I didn’t want to cause my mom extra pain by making her mop my blood. So I settled for something a little neater.
I locked the door, and I brought out the bottle of oxycodone. 5?, 10? everything?
I swallowed the pills, layed down after.I felt the rush, I felt the high.
I felt the calm as my heart slowed down.
I embraced the pain, I knew there was something I had to gain.
I saw the light, I embraced the peace.

PS; Dear mum, I really needed this, I’m sorry I hurt you.
Xoxo. Salome.

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Let’s help each other stay sane and alive.

For those 0f us struggling, let’s turn those lonely hours to moments of fellowship with Love Himself and watch how those vile feelings wash away. He hears, He cares, He loves.

❤️&💡