"Rather be dead than to be alive."
Its been proven that every 30 seconds, somebody in the world commits suicide. Six in ten teenagers think about it. One in ten try.
"Life becomes difficult to handle ,all you think of is giving up and letting go of everything."
Testimonies of powerful teenagers who survived suicide:
I've been dealing with major depression my entire adult life. In high school I fought my parents to let me see a therapist, and when I finally saw one before my senior year of high school, I was diagnosed with major depression, OCD, and social anxiety disorder. Senior year was tough — I made excuses to friends as to why I was busy every Tuesday afternoon because I was embarrassed to say I was in therapy. I confided in a few close friends who were supportive, but frankly I was relieved to leave my hometown for a college in a different part of the country. I thought things would change, and that my depression would disappear because I was finally away from my hometown baggage. I was wrong.
I saw a school counselor my freshman year at college, but I was too distracted by the newness of it all to really focus on my mental health. The summer after freshman year, my depression returned in full force. Upon returning to school for the first semester of my sophomore year, I was unable to recognize that my depression had completely incapacitated me. I attempted suicide soon after the semester began — the only reason I survived is because my friends realized there was something wrong with me that night. Afterwards, I dropped out of school and returned home to get the help I so desperately needed.
I went through four different therapists and five different medications before I found the combination that worked for me, and when that happened it was not like magic, it wasn't like a beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds. It was like trudging up a mountain pass, swamped in mud and ice with an 80-pound weight around my neck. But finally I reached the peak, and started down an easier path. There are still many days that I force myself uphill again, but now my pack is a little lighter, I have the tools to make the going a little easier, and I know that I have loved ones who have and will continue to carry me on days when I just can't walk anymore. I always start hiking again the next morning. And I'm proud of myself.
—Anonymous
For a few years in my early twenties it was my job to drink. Every day, every night, as much as possible. I had other jobs, ones that paid, but those came and went and were just ways of making money, money that I would spend on a sea of bottles. I was alone and confused, carrying barbed memories from my childhood that squirmed in a thorny tangle inside my chest, but would stretch out through my mouth or up into my mind if I didn't battle them back down with alcohol. I didn't have any ambition, or any interest in finding my way. Being drunk and sad and alone was my job — and you know what? I didn't hate it. Being lost at sea was a comfort.
Luckily for me, even though I felt alone, I wasn't. Slowly strangers became acquaintances, and acquaintances became friends. Some were a lot like me, and others weren't. But all of them became shipmates, I a part of their crew and they a part of mine. Even just talking to them loosened the tangled monster that gripped me, enough for me to find another star — that of forgiveness — to light my way. I forgave, not because the things that I remembered were resolved or any sort of justice was served, but because I was willing to let go. There is still a tangle inside of me, but I'm not as frightened of it. Once in a while, the memories do send their despairing tendrils up into my mind and flow out of my mouth as speech, but even when things seem darkest, I have the first two stars that helped me navigate into safer waters: friendship and forgiveness.
—Anonymous
When I was studying abroad, I heard that a few of my close family friends had passed away. As I kept getting the news, I found myself starting to feel really empty and genuinely numb to the outside world. I was crying nearly every day and just felt a hopelessness that wouldn't go away. It was a strange feeling that I had never experienced before. During class, the only thing I could think about was getting back in my bed. About a month after dealing with this, I was diagnosed with "seasonal depression," and it was really hard because all my friends wanted to go out and would practically make fun of me when I didn't want to.
I felt embarrassed to tell them I was going through it, and, even worse, having to take medication for it. I would get stuck in conversations where people said that depression was just an excuse people make and wasn't even a real thing. It's funny, because I always questioned people suffering from the same thing. It was really hard, and makes you feel even more isolated. It's strange because you begin to distance yourself from everyone and relationships get really difficult and unbalanced. Luckily, I wanted to force myself off the medicine and try more of a homeopathic routine, and it worked. I sometimes have off days, but it was the true friendships and family support that helped me overcome it. After going through it myself, it made me look at mental illness in a whole new way that really needs to be addressed.
—Anonymous
When I was 9, I was the victim of a vicious sexual assault by a friend's older brother. For years after that I was depressed. I kept it a secret, and was afraid to tell anyone for fear of being ostracized and treated differently. I felt alone, and since I had no one to talk to about it, I suffered in silence. When I was 15, I made a conscious decision to take my own life.
I knew that my dad kept a revolver in his nightstand. It was a Saturday in the spring, and my parents went to the local fair for the afternoon. I took my dad's revolver to our back patio and readied myself. As I was taking the gun out of its sheath, I heard a car pull into my parents' driveway. This spooked me, so I hid the gun, and found out it was my aunt coming to drop something off. After she left I put the gun back, went into the house, and cried. I saw it as a sign from God that I was not meant to die that day. I was still extremely bothered by what had happened to me as a child. A few years later, with the help of a friend, I was able to tell my parents about the assault. What helped me the most through my feelings and stages of utter despair was talking to other survivors who had been the victims of similar attacks.
There are many people who have been assaulted as children, I came to find out. I initially talked to a friend's sister who had been sexually abused as a child, as well. Over the years I have talked to many other people, and it was so uplifting to know that I was not alone. For me, the cure was talking to others. No matter how bad it may seem, or how alone you may feel, others are there to help. By the grace of God and good people, I was able to get through that trying time in my life.
—Anonymous
The power of not giving up when it is really difficult to live is everything. We are going through this phase or have been through this phase ,let us all be there for one another. We cannot leave one another just like this. Suicide is not an act of selfish ,never see it in that light but rather as a person who found it very difficult to live. I understand people who comment suicide,we as individuals go through personal stuff only us know and talking about it is so painful and you feel as though nobody can understand you. It is more painful when you are going through a phase in which you cannot explain how you truly feel but instead just cry about. Draw strength by talking about your personal issues to someone or people who genuinely love and support you or even better pray about it.
WE ARE HERE FOR YOU ,I AM HERE FOR YOU. WE LOVE YOU ,I LOVE YOU.
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