My mother found out and shipped me off to live with my aunt
and uncle. Same city just a different zip code.
They were so hard-ass about everything.
I could not talk on the phone. I
could not see my friends. I had to clean
the house every weekend, this was a pretty big house (vacuum, dishes, mop and wax the kitchen floor, clean
the bathroom, polish the silverware. (who does that?) And, when they left the house, they would remove
the speaker from the phone. Yes, it was
a rotary phone and you could unscrew the handset and remove the speaker gadget
thingy J So when the phone rang, I could only hear the
person on the other end but they couldn’t hear me. Damn, at 14 years old with no friends, no outing,
just two religious fanatics, and an ailing grandmother, it was lonely as heck.
BTW, my grandmother was everything. When
she died many years later, it was like my world ended.
One day, my cousin who was the same age as me, asked me if
I would like to go to Disneyland with her mom (my aunt) and my aunt’s
boyfriend. I told her that she had to
ask my aunt. My aunt said No. That was it for me! I couldn’t even go out with my aunt and
cousin. And to Disneyland… Who says No to allowing a 14 year old to go to
Disneyland with an adult that you know and it would not cost a penny because my
other aunt would pay for everything?
As most elderly's do, my grandmother had a drawer full of
pills. I looked through her drawer and
found a bottle of sleeping pills.
By the way, I was an A to A+ student throughout my school
years. I was smarter than most of my
friends. I read everything I could. Always! I did my homework and studied. Always! I remember, I just recalled everything and
anything said around me. The adults
around me knew this, so they would always ask me to leave the room when they
wanted to chat.
I took the bottle of pills to my room, wrote letters to my
mom, my aunt and I don’t remember who else.
I also called my mom on the phone.
She didn’t know at the time that I was calling to say goodbye. One of my uncles was visiting, so I asked to
speak with him. I spoke to everyone who
was at my mom’s.
My aunt and uncle were out, probably at a Jehovah’s Witness
meeting. So it was just me and my
grandmother at home.
I emptied the bottle of pills on the desk. After signing
each letter, I took a pill. I may have
taken about 8 of those sleeping pills. I
got dressed and decided to walk to my boyfriend’s home. (Oh, I must say that
this was a new boyfriend. He was about 8
years older than me.) I didn’t know
where he lived but I knew the area. I
would walk until I found it.
I remember a car driving up to me and my aunt, not the one
I lived with, pulled me in the car. She
thought I was drunk. I don’t remember
anything else after that. The next thing
I remember was a doctor forcing a tube down my throat and me throwing up over
and over again, and nurses helping to hold me down. I remember yelling, “Let me die!” over and
over again. My stomach felt raw from
throwing up. My throat felt like I
swallowed razor blades.
I remember waking up in the hospital and my aunt helping me
to get dressed. I had to go and talk to
a psychiatrist so that he could find out why I tried to kill myself. The doctor’s office seemed so big. You could easily roller skate all around that
office. The doctor spoke to both me and
my aunt at the same time. I don’t
remember wondering why wasn’t my mother there, but she wasn’t. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want
my aunt to feel bad about me not wanting to live with her. I didn’t want her to know how much I hated
her. Of course, that was teenage angst. I don't hate my aunt nor my now-deceased uncle.
The doctor sent me home and my aunt
sent me back to my mother.
Nothing was ever mentioned about my suicide attempt by
anyone in my family. I was never taken
back to see a doctor. Life went on as
usual. I went back to school continued
with my A+ grades.
I think, had it not been for that incident, I would have
become a journalist. I loved writing so
much and I was good at it. But that
incident moved my life into a new direction.
Today, someone commented on a social media post that depression
and suicides usually begins around the age of 21 years old. No comment!
I just don’t know where she got that information. Anyone can become depressed for a variety of
reasons at any age. Young people commit
suicides more often than most will admit or know of.
People also throw around phone numbers believing that a
person who is feeling so depressed and sad and unworthy and useless and not
wanting to see the next sunrise will pick up a phone and call a national
suicide hotline. I can assure you that
when you’re in that moment of despair, making a phone call to someone who will
ask you a bunch of questions is not what you’re looking for. What would help would be to have someone
there in your face, talking to you, slapping you or whatever it takes to get
you through the next hour or two.
Unfortunately, suicides happens when no one is around.
But for good measure, here is the phone number for suicide
prevention. National Suicide
Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) and a website that you can read https://www.speakingofsuicide.com/resources. If you have suicidal thoughts, call this
number or visit the website. Don’t wait! If you wait, it will be too late.
Remember… Think of
the people around who loves you and whom you love. Think about tomorrow’s sunrise. Plan to get up at the crack of dawn and going
outside and looking at the beauty of the sky so early in the morning when almost
no one is up; just you and the beautiful sky and the sun rising up to signal a
new day! If you make plans, you will want to live to complete those plans.
I am fine now. I’ve
only experienced that type of darkness one other time. And I convinced myself that I wanted to see the
next sunrise. I also have kids and
grandkids and because I never want to see them sad, I would never do something,
anything that would cause them sadness.
©2018 Radiance Smith (aka Radiance Lite)
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