It was at the young age of 15 that I thought about killing myself. I didn’t feel like I was enough for anyone in my life. I felt abandoned. I started drinking and smoking pot. Not a lot. Just trying to kill the pain.
I always have felt lost. Everything has to change all the time. That’s the BPD a subject for a different day. I suffered depression for many years. But then when I entered into a very abusive relationship, I couldn’t do anything right. I was never the same. I was to fat, dinner didn’t taste good. you name it, I wasn’t good at it.
After some time I started having thoughts of running my truck into semi’s or cliffs. That went on for years. I divorced him after 14 years of abuse. What I wasn’t prepared for was grieving him like I had buried him like he had died. Plus I gave up my son 50% of the time. Eventually, all I could think about is how I was going to do it. I had to wait until the boys were gone. And the minute they were I was in such a hurry I left the car door wide open, door to the house and the knife drawer with knifes scattered everywhere.
I did it, I slit my wrist. Fortunately, I just did a bunch of surface wounds because there wasn’t a sharp knife in the house. I wasn’t allowed knives in the house for years. I struggled for several years with several mood disorders, and was being abused again. I was married to a monster. And until I got rid of him I had no family, and the grandchild I was about to have was not allowed to be a part of my life. He was dangerous. I felt trapped. If I left I had to fear his wrath. I was going to do it the easy way. I took a handful of pills. They made me sick but I am still here.
I still from time to time get thoughts of self harm, Usually after feeling I’ve let my loved ones down. I have a lot to live for, with mental illness we become blinded at times.