***Trigger Warning*** The following content contains suicidal ideation, self-harm, trauma, and graphic details. Please read with caution.
The first time I remember having thoughts of suicide I was around 12 years old, a quiet and shy middle-schooler who liked mountain biking, basketball, running, reading, and being outside. I recall a dark feeling showing up seemingly out of nowhere, slowly but fiercely taking over my body and consuming me inch by inch. I was confused, embarrassed, and severely lonely with what felt like a dark and heavy blanket wrapped around me. What was happening to me? Why did no one else seem to feel this way? I can’t recall any conversations at school or home about mental health, just a shameful stigma that something was wrong with me. I began to cope in unhealthy ways, cutting myself and transitioning my pain to other parts of my body while keeping my emotions buried down deep for no one to see.
The self-harming persisted after I realized my secrets were becoming too hard to hide, bringing up too many questions that I didn’t have the answers for. I continued to find joy in the outdoors and other areas, but I also accepted the reality that this dark and heavy blanket was always close by, ready to consume me at anytime without any notice. In an effort to escape the dark and heavy blanket, I started to wonder how death might feel. I longed for a feeling of finality and peace, in a place with no pain.
As I grew older, life offered me highs and lows–moving to the mountains and starting my own small business, while simultaneously offering me challenges like a toxic relationship and a traumatic brain injury (TBI) from a snowboarding accident. I found different ways to hide the darkness in my life created by these things, distracting myself or masking the underlying feelings with other forms of obscurity, forever trapping myself in the top layer of these issues. I explored different ways to feel numb while never truly removing my dark blanket.
My most severe suicide attempt came during an argument with an ex-boyfriend. I say this loosely because at this moment I never once remember thinking “I want to die.” I have no recollection of the actual argument, just an intense feeling of heartache, hopelessness, and desperation to remove myself from the situation. I deeply wanted to make a point and be heard in an unhealthy situation, but in a moment of impulsivity, I grabbed a knife off the counter and deeply cut into my wrist. While it’s true I had an affinity for cutting in the past, the knife happened to be the closest thing to me at that moment that could cause me pain. I ended up at the hospital after losing quite a bit of blood, received stitches, and returned home. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and full of regret, but at the same time I also had a clear internal message: “I deserve so much better than this.” I often think of an alternative outcome where a loaded firearm lay within my reach at that moment.
With time, I wanted to learn more about my dark and heavy blanket, and its origin. I began to learn the terms for the emotions I was feeling like depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. I started to name the traumas I had experienced and slowly unburied those memories. I learned healthy coping mechanisms like breathwork, balanced routines, self-care, and enrolled in talk therapy. Over time, I began to understand that a mix of genetics, teenage hormones, masked trauma, ignorance, and a negative stigma around mental health assisted in my youthful suicidal ideation. I also began to realize that these challenges didn’t define me, and that I was wrong when I was first wrapped in my dark and heavy blanket: I was not alone. I was not the only person feeling this way or dealing with challenging life situations. There were other people around me fighting in their own personal battles.
I began to work with Building Hope as the Project Writer and Community Wellness Coordinator, focusing on suicide prevention programming, stigma reduction, and community education. I felt a strong desire to offer the youth of summit county a safe place to express their emotions and ask for help in a way that wasn’t available when I was growing up, provide compassion to community members after a suicide loss, and encourage hope to those with suicidal thoughts while destigmatizing mental health struggles. Unfortunately, my own battle with suicidal ideation would soon return, making me feel like a fraud and proving I was still broken.
The last time I remember having thoughts of suicide was just over 2 years ago, a quiet and shy 39-year-old who still enjoyed the outdoors and reading. A self-proclaimed adult snowboard bum, I had been dealing with the long-term side effects from a traumatic brain injury (TBI) and post-concussion syndrome for many years. After a particularly hard setback, I lay in bed for days with sharp pains consuming my head and the world spinning around me while I fought a vertigo spell. I was unable to function, work, or participate in the activities that usually put a smile on my face. During the worst and darkest moments of this TBI curse, I confided to my partner, “I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this.” While I don’t recall a strong desire to die, I felt a powerful desperation for the pain and suffering to stop permanently. My dark and heavy blanket was back and holding me tight again.
While this last episode with suicidal thoughts brought on many feelings like fear and hopelessness, I also felt prepared with the tools to maneuver out from under the dark and heavy blanket. I spoke to my therapist and my partner with honesty, accepting outside support and assistance in a way I never had before. I assessed my safety and learned the difference between having suicidal ideation and having a plan in place ready to implement. And with time I slowly came out of the darkness and began to focus on the positives, bringing the light back into my life.
Sharing the darkest parts of yourself is not easy. It adds discomfort in what is already challenging. I find myself preparing for more feelings of shame and the questions from friends and family who I love dearly and always tried their best. The reality that certain parts of me that I have long kept buried will resurface is terrifying. However, these traumas, events, and feelings also do not define me, they are merely a part of my journey. And in a way, it feels like exactly what I signed up for when I began my work in Suicide Prevention.
I can’t say that I am truly healed (do we ever “finish” healing?) or that my suicidal ideation is gone for good. With time I’ve learned helpful and healthy methods to cope when I feel the weight of the dark and heavy blanket approaching, and I’m committed to myself to live a long and joyful life. I take an honest approach to suicide prevention within my community, and my goal is to offer a realistic perspective of what your loved one may have been feeling during their struggles, or show someone dealing with their own ideation that it is possible to move forward and out of that lonely place. That we as human beings are inherently resilient, and while life can be tough, we are tougher.
One thing I have learned in my work with suicide prevention is that one single cause does not lead to the decision of suicide, but instead a combination of several different risk factors joining together creating the perfect storm of hopelessness with a strong desire for the pain to stop. The more protective factors you have in your tool belt, the better equipped you are to weather the storm. If you have lost a loved one to suicide, your experience is valid and also deserves some healing and support.
I truly believe that suicide prevention is a community effort and that we can all make a difference. Be observant, look for changes in the behaviors of those around you, be aware of the resources and supports available, and remove quick access to lethal means like firearms, knives, and medications. Ask for help, offer compassion and empathy in tough situations, and check-in with each other. Remember that everyone’s healing journey is different, and there are various options for recovery that can be personalized for you and/or the people you love. Open up and share, because you never know how your own story could help save another.
- For immediate danger or risk of hurting themselves or others, call 911 and ask for the SMART team.
- For someone experiencing suicidal ideation, thoughts, or emotional distress in a non-emergency situation call CO Crisis Services at 1-844-493-8255 or text “TALK” to 38255. Trained professionals will help determine the risk and next steps. Direct line to Paragon in-person mobile crisis unit in Summit County is 720-610-2670.
- Suicide warning signs, tips for having conversation and more: Life and death, let’s talk about it
- Self- Care tips:8 Dimensions of Wellness for Everyday Life
