#suicide awareness

officer kevin briggs talks kevin berthia out of committing suicide for over an hour before he finally agrees to climb back over the railing.

8 years later, the now happy father of two gives the officer an award at the american foundation of suicide.

We enter a new year today. Many did not make it to see this day. Many are still struggling to make it to the next. I hope you keep fighting. I hope you find the strength lean on what keeps you going. I hope those that didn’t see today are at peace.

Happy New Year! I wish nothing but peace and clarity this year for everyone!

Happy New Year

A thing of nightmares has occurred in my family.

Ben Sutton, the most beautiful person I’ll ever have the pleasure of knowing, and the soulmate of my wonderful little sister Claudia, has taken his own life.

I’m desperate to help her in any way that I can. Please help me to help her.

If you candonate, any little bit will help. If you cannot, please share. 

And please also send her your thoughts and love, here’s her page.

Nobody should ever have to experience this. If you know someone who’s acting out of the ordinary, please talk to them. They might not have the strength to tell you they need help. If you’re suspicious of someone’s odd behaviour but you’re unsure, research symptoms of anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Please seek professional help, identify the signs before it’s too late.

Our Ben disguised these symptoms through a breakup with my sister, he pushed her away so she couldn’t stop him. He loved her so much, but he didn’t believe in her love for him. Everything about his strange behaviour made sense after it was too late. Never assume. If you’re worried, you contact that person and don’t let anything stop you.

Please make sure your loved ones know that they’re loved, that they’re wanted and needed.

And please, to anyone out there who’s experiencing anxiety, depression or suicidal thoughts, this is not the only solution. Things may seem hopeless right now, you may feel unworthy of love, of happiness, but this is not true. You are loved, you can be loved. Don’t believe the voices of your demons, please don’t give up. Life has so much ugliness but there is so much beauty in it as well, you deserve to experience that beauty. Nothing matters more than your health, please put yourself first.

I love you all, please take care of yourselves. 

-Issy

xoxox

fictionjunk1e:

Keep reading

Trigger Warning: suicide; self-harm; drug addiction/overdose; domestic violence; body dysmorphia

What I am about to share with you is the story of how I attempted to take my life….how close I came….and exactly what came out of it. Please be advised I do mention the above topics. If any of these topics are triggering, please do not continue. 

I am always open to provide an ear, advice, or a virtual hug. 

I love you all, please enjoy. 

I have struggled with mental illness most of my life. Being raised in a house-hold of poor coping mechanisms, substance abuse and domestic violence didn’t necessarily set me up for success; or assist in the seriousness of my illness either. However, what it did do was help set me up for a series of obstacles I would inevitably be blessed to face and overcome…as well as provide me with copious tools in my life tool-belt that I can apply to a wide variety of situations.

At a young age I was molested by my father’s best friend. Additionally I have been a victim of domestic violence, rape, as well as navigating through a family plagued by alcoholism. My family as a unit has faced seemingly impossible situations that have forever shattered the fragile glass that holds the family unit at such high regard and protects it from the ugliness of broken individuals who are bonded by blood gone sour, yet desperately grasping at their instinctual loyalty and love. 

Most children in these types of homes, who have gone through these types of traumas/crises would find solace in school with their friends. For me? School was equally as unbearable due to my weight. I was the fat girl….

I paint for you a picture of an extremely broken, vulnerable, self loathing young woman. A young woman who held no self respect and acted as a carpet to those around her. She suffered from panic attacks, anxiety, mood swings…..she cut to take the pain away. Her search for an outlet to the pain was tiresome as she would literally jump through hoops just to drag a sharp edge across her skin…..razors, scissors, knives…..paper clips…..broken bobby pins….

The above description was my foundation - those were the values I had of myself to walk into adulthood with. I could not cope, I hated who I was as a person, and I was so desperate to find a place where I was loved that I made a three year poor series of choices that eventually lead to rape, addiction, an abusive relationship, witness to severe animal abuse, and financial devastation. 

July of 2017 was the end of the insanity that had become my life. I made the decision to move back home to a chaos I was used to and knew how to work through rather chaos I was unfamiliar with and had no clue how to handle…

July of 2017 I became suicidal and checked myself into a hospital. The sudden haul of the chaos became unbearable. I was broken. I was battered. I was hopeless. 

August of 2017 I am released from the hospital and I am prospering. I have a fantastic job making fantastic money. I am happier than I have ever been. Life is finally good. I am making good choices…I am on cloud nine. 

November of 2017 my mother’s dachshund gets out of the front door and begins to run towards the highway. My mother and I chased him a mile and a half down the busy main road we live off of. I am in heels because I was about to go and buy a car, and she was in shoes that weren’t tied and flopping off of her feet….I trip, fall, and break my foot. I am now out of work until January of 2018. 

December of 2017 I am sinking deeper into my depression. There has been yet another drastic change in my life and I have no income. I have a car I need to pay, I can’t work due to the severity of my injury…and I am being targeted by my family. Four people in a house. Four people who need their space from each other or else situations become volatile quickly. At this point I feel as though I am absolutely nothing. I am unimportant, and with everything I have endured in my life….and with everything that I have failed at….I would be better off dead. I am an ugly….fat…worthless nothing. 

January 3, 2018 I wake up in the critical care unit. I am restrained to the table with leather restraints and there are tubes in my throat. I look around and begin to panic. A nurse comes in and lets me know that my mother and brother had just left - they were with me all night…My aunt was in the waiting room….she came to take their place. The nurse removed my tubes and more nurses came in to take off my restraints and help to get me more comfortable…..My aunt came in…..

“How are you?”
“I’m………I woke up.”
“Yes you did.” she began to cry
“I woke up…..but I wanted to die…”

At 11:30 p.m. on January 2, 2018 I ingested over 250 pills. My cocktail consisted on a variety of psychiatric medications as well as benzos. I barricaded myself in my bedroom with my dog and my cat and cuddled them as I swallowed each bottle of medication. I did not leave a note. I sent one simple text message to my best friend simply saying I love you at an inconspicuous time of night as to not be suspicious and actively began consuming medication I knew would kill me in an attempt to end my life. I was doing it. I was finally about to escape all of my pain and no longer have to worry about life. I didn’t have to keep running from this black cloud that has plagued me for so long. 

In the last moments I remember before I closed my eyes as I laid in my dirty bedroom I could not bring myself to clean, unshowered from my crippling depression, I did think about my loved ones - human and fur. I thought about them barging into my bedroom to find me dead….I thought about the pain they would endure knowing I died under their roof, partially due to them and their abuse. I thought about leaving my brother behind as well as my biological family I had just gotten in contact with and my new nieces and nephews……….I thought about not seeing my dog and cat again for a very long time. But, I also thought about every bad thing that has ever happened to me….and every bad decision I have ever made. I even thought about conversations I had with people over a decade ago and what I would have said different….I thought about silly things I did as a kid and asked myself why I did them. My entire life flashed before my eyes as I simultaneously remained mindful of the moment I was in. It is as if I was existing in two bodies at that time. I cried until I felt the medication begin to make me sleepy…..I looked at my dog and my cat and hugged them….I apologized to them….I told them I loved them and I nuzzled up to them….it was time. 

It wasn’t until I finally saw my mother later that day that I heard the rest of the story. I have no memory of what happened from the time I blacked out from the overdose to when I woke up in the CCU. 

My dog Kaleb began to scream from my bedroom and furiously scratched at my door. his screaming and scratching woke my mother up from her bedroom across the hall…she said she knew something was wrong and attempted to get into my bedroom. My door was barricaded so she couldn’t get in. I apparently came to the bedroom door to move the chest that was in front and met her at the door. She said my eyes were closed - they never opened. I slurred my words and told her to leave me alone and attempted to continue to walk towards her. She said I couldn’t stand straight and was practically falling down. 

“I screamed for your father and told him there was something wrong. I ran into your room and found your empty bottles. I knew you were overdosing and I screamed that you were overdosing. Your father came up the stairs  and began to scream. Moments later your brother came home and as soon as he came in the door he ran upstairs because he heard us pleading with you. You were combative. You wanted no one to touch you. Anthony helped me get you dressed and down into the car. I began to drive you to the hospital and Anthony was going to meet me there after he got changed and grabbed a few things for us…..but you began to drift in and out….I couldn’t keep you awake.”

My mother pulled over into an apartment complex and called 911. She let them know that I was overdosing in a suicide attempt and that she needed an ambulance. Moments later the police arrived as the first responders. They put me on oxygen and rubbed my chest hard in an attempt to keep me conscious. My eyes still never opened….but I would “come to” and try to get up and out of the car….swinging blindly at the police. The ambulance then arrived and the EMTs attempted to get me into the ambulance. My mother told me that I continued to kick/bite/punch. Four EMTs attempted to hold me down and treat me in the back of the ambulance…

“When they got you into the ER they asked me what you took and I only knew the one medication…they started to do all of these tests and started to pump your stomach. You just kept hitting and hitting and hitting. They tried to restrain you and you broke out of the soft restraints so then they switched to the leather and sedated you……but then you really started to go down hill. You weren’t breathing properly and you lost your gag reflex……that is when they decided to induce you and they put you into a coma. The doctor told me that you probably weren’t going to make it….and I dropped.”

My mother and my brother sat in the critical care unit with me that entire night….they prayed over me…..my brother held my hand and rubbed my arm as he cried and begged for me not to leave him. They asked me why I had done this and blamed themselves. They questioned where things went wrong and what they could have done to make things go right. They were waiting for me to die….they left once the clock hit 8 a.m. and my aunt came to take their place so they could get some sleep…

I woke up. 

The first thing I thought of when I woke up was I woke up….and I was angry. I failed yet again and now needed to face my family as well as the consequences of my actions. Physically I was exhausted - my lung had collapsed, my pancreas was inflamed, I was withdrawing, and I was recovering from a medically induced coma as well as a ventilator. Emotionally I was broken - I had just attempted to end my life and I failed. 

I spent a week in the psychiatric ward once I was released from the medical hospital for my attempt. After that I began an intensive therapy program and started on a daily regime of medication that ultimately helped me remain stable and that I couldn’t overdose on again. 

My mother and brother have PTSD from this experience….they claim they forgive me, but the damage that I have done is damage I can only apologize for…I can never repair this. This will never go away. I have a permanent scar on my lung from when I aspirated and it collapsed…and I must say….I have suffered an extreme personality change which my doctor associates with the overdose and the effects on my brain and its chemistry.

It is now July of 2018…and I am battling cancer. It has been seven months since my attempt…and in seven months I have gone from wanting to end my life…..and attempting to end my life…to now having a value for my life and actually fighting for it…in seven months.

All of the problems that I had before my suicide attempt are still here. Every mistake, every consequence for every action….I still live at home in a toxic environment…..nothing about my situation has changed in the slightest….but what has changed is my perspective. 

Life is a series of peaks and valleys…the peaks are life’s highest points and are addictive…the valleys are life’s lowest points and can be deadly. Our mission is to navigate through these peaks and valleys as if they were equal. We are to be thankful for the valleys and treat them as important as the peaks….for we can only celebrate lavishly if we have survived the deepest of hardships. You cannot have good without bad…and you cannot have bad without good - they are uniquely one.

Dad’s birthday was earlier this month. Left some cheesecake on the ancestor altar for him.

Wish you were still here, Dad. Wish I could have stopped you.

this is officially the 100th drawing of connor murphy I’ve done.

what’s more important though, is that it also happens to be the world suicide prevention day today. it’s probably not surprising considering how much i’ve been saying connor murphy is relatable to me, but i’ve been really really struggling with my mental health for the past 5 years, although it’s taken a big turn for worse this year. it feels incredibly draining when every second you’re awake brings you pain, when it feels like your emotions are out of control, and you keep acting out on your family and friends, pushing them further away from you. please, check if your friends are okay, be patient if they’re not, be grateful if they are. be kind even if your brain is screaming at you to lash out, respect people, donate to mental health charities if you can and fight for the betterment of your local mental health support systems that are sadly still failing so many of us. ♥️

Josh,

I had a really shitty time about a week ago now. Not to make everything about me, or rather, you, but it was painfully reminiscent of your dying.

See, I took my rat to the vets. He’d been ill for weeks now, but from what the expert (and painfully expensive) vet had said, I was pretty certain we had options left. We’d only had him a couple of months; we adopted him and his brother as younger playmates for our older boy.

I had no expectations that I’d be going home without him. I thought we’d just be picking up a new antibiotic or maybe some alternative medications to force-feed him on biscuits for the next week. But the vet said she didn’t like how hard he was breathing, even though it was no worse than every other visit. She told me that she had one last idea, but after that we might need to have “a different kind of conversation”.

The last idea was in the form of a fast acting injection. I was sent to the waiting area while we waited to see if it helped. 45 minutes later, she told me there was no change.

“There’s a small chance he might improve yet, lets leave it a bit longer.” She really was trying to give him every chance. “Why don’t you take him out to waiting area and sit with him?”

I was grateful of any extra minutes I got to have by his side. But I knew there was a very high chance he was going to die soon. I couldn’t talk to him, and I tried so hard not to cry. Other people were in the waiting area. I just watched him in his little carrier. Pottering around. Smelling anyone who walked past. Nibbling his food. Breathing hard and trying so hard to keep living. I wanted to tell him I loved him. To get him out and love him. But I couldn’t. I could hardly bare to look at him in case the tears started coming. I was alone, in shock and waiting for him to die.

It was the hardest 40 minutes of my life in a long, long time. I didn’t want them to end, I dreaded the vet coming back out to call us. But I also wanted it to be over so I could get back to my car and cry in peace.

He was young. I didn’t expect him to die. But then I knew he would, and I was forced to just sit and wait for the inevitable. So, yeah, it made me think of that day.

It hurt like fuck, and yet a week later I’m numb again. I’m not sure which is worse. Life is such a fucking bitch, Josh. Though, I guess you don’t need me to tell you that.

Love always,

C

Josh,

I’m feeling pretty lonely this Christmas, so I’m turning to the most reliable company I have: you. I’m missing so many things right now: family, my old life, having plenty of friends. I wouldn’t call it self pity, it is what it is, but I just have a lot of time and free head space right now. There’s no much spinning around in there. So many thoughts. So for tonight, I think I’ll just listen to everything that reminds me of you and try to forget the rest.

Merry Christmas my dude,

C

Josh,

It’s always a beautiful sunny day on the anniversary of your death. It doesn’t match the occasion, but it makes me smile.

I’m thinking of you. Maybe we’ll talk soon.

C

MyGod I am tired of the fight it takes just to exist

me: i think im doing alright, all things considered

my edgelord^TM brain: okay but have you considered how good it would feel for your flesh to burn and sting right now?

me: ooooookayy maybe i should reconsider…

Having chronic suicidal thoughts is hard. Really hard. And really scary. It’s one thing to get close to hurting yourself once, but some of us have to do it again and again. What if one time our will fails?

Despite it all, there IS a silver lining. I now know I can get through anything. I mean anything. I have survived my brain yelling at me to kill myself time and time again. I made it this far. There’s not a damn thing that can stop me.

I will endure pain, grief, panic, uncertainty as we all do. It’ll suck, as it always does. But I KNOW I’ll come out the other side. Because to me, nothing can be scarier than chronic intrusive suicidal thoughts. Life can’t throw anything at me that my brain hasn’t already tried to destroy me with.

I mean maybe I’m just like really well medicated for mood disorders rn but I am footloose and fancy free and ready to absolutely fuckin savor this life I fought so hard for.