Borderline's Feelings and Experiences With Suicide Attempts
Borderline's Feelings and Experiences With Suicide Attempts
1.) the first time I cut -- It was 1967, I was 13/14, my mind was just beginning to open and question with adolescence. I was sitting in the yard in summer, reading "The Diary of Anne Frank," (and appalled by the cruelty of mankind) and a novel, "The Light in the Forest," about early America, an a white boy reared by Indians, and his conflict when he must be returned to the whites. In "Forest," the character put a hot coal on his arm to test himself. For all the reasons in the world, and for no reason I could name, I picked a rose and drew the thorns across my left wrist. I kept the behavior of cutting, stealing a penknife for my "secret Red Bracelets." I didn't have any idea why I chose this or what it meant. 2.) I've cut most of my life, with a 4 1/2 year abstinence after my 3rd and final od, and abstinince (except for 1 burn) after I found your writing. I'm 46 years old. I have 3 od's, one very serious. 1st od -- as I said, 6 months after stepfather died. 2nd od -- typical bpd manipulation -- I was in the psych unit, went home on pass, snuck in my Xanax bottle and od'd in the hospital, writing a suicide note and imagining dropping dramatically to the floor, too late. my Dr. and I later talked that it was re when he said he'd have to cut back on the time he was seeing me. 3rd (and last! No matter what!) I was rushed in the psych unit, to get in, work on my stuff and get out -- I felt too pressured so I said I was fine and went home. I felt empty and pressured and numb. The next morning, there WAS no reason to go on. I moved on automatic pilot. I grabbed big glass of water, lots of Loxitane, Xanax and Theodur (asthma pills). I paid bills, wrote note, left door open so when my body was found they wouldn't have to destroy property. I went to bed and turned my back. A dear friend called, out of the blue, to invite me to dinner. I turned her down, saying I was just going to sleep. She called back immediately, confronting me. Not only is it hard for me to not answer a direct question, the part deep down inside which did want to live wanted to be helped. My friend saved my life. In the ER, the Loxitane made my body jerk uncontrollably with akathesia. The really dangerous med was the Theodur -- but I was lucky and my body metabolized quickly. I could have blown out my organs and been on dialysis forever, but I was ok. When I woke up, I felt like I'd tried to murder somebody. I felt like God and everybody in the world could never forgive what I'd done. When my doctor came in, I asked, "Can you forgive me?" He said, "Can you forgive yourself?" -- Donna
I guess is all started when I was younger, I always felt like there wasn't much to offer in life therefore there wasn't much to live for yet i never really felt that urge to just kill myself, not until I got older. I got more withdrawn from family and friends. being alone is probably the worst feeling for a person with BPD. All the time I have tried to commit suicide I have been alone or felt abondaned and basically felt that there wasn't anything out there in life. No one to love and comfort me. I felt alone. No matter what people tried to do or say I still felt this overwhelming sense of life not meaning much, and that I was always going to be miserable. No one to love me. I just wanted someone who would pay total attention to me and who would love me unconditionally and forever, I was the most important person. I didn't want them to have any other friends, or anything. Just me. Yet if they got too close to me I felt like I needed to escape. I would try to committ suicide by slitting my wrists or running in front of moving cars, or whatever it took..I think all of this wasn't necessarily a way of dying but a way of getting the person of interest to notice me and to pay total attention to me. And me alone. Sometime it was because I didn't want to live anymore, life was never going to amount to nothing, just work and sleep and work and sleep. Nothing in life was fun or enjoyable. The overwhelming sense of unimportance was too much to bear anymore. It just wasn't worth living anymore. I believe in reincarnation. So I always thought that I'd come back in a happy life, and be able to enjoy things and have someone to love me forever. At least that is what I still think to this day. And I still go into those fits where I don't feel like life is worth living anymore and that I could enjoy starting over with a new life, where I would be pretty and I wouldn't have to struggle so much with life, I would have someone who loved me always and forever. I'd be beautiful. I'd have no worries. --Rachael
I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt. It was just over a year ago. I sat with a 12 gauge shotgun in my mouth for hours. I still struggle with the idea of suicide now, usually by hanging. Why? Because of numerous reasons. Here are some ; 1)Who am I? -- When I feel like a "shell", when that hole inside me is deep and empty, I do not feel alive. I feel like an animation, with no reason or rhyme to its existence. Therefore, I reason why exist at all if this is all there is to life for me? 2)What good am I to society? -- This reasoning I call my "instinctive" logic. I sometimes feel as though I am not productive to society, and I feel very much alienated by that fact....like an object who has no potential. Instead of impeding the progress of society with myself, why not do the "altruistic" thing and eliminate myself? 3)What harm am I causing my family? -- A tough one, here. Sometimes I feel that my disability has become an impediment to my family's well being. My son, although only five years old, doesn't know why Daddy is so moody and not able to work. My wife struggles to deal with my illness...I can see the pain in her eyes. I feel like an embarrassment and disappointment to my family. Hence, why not kill myself? Instead of putting them through years of torture, why not just "pull off the band-aid quick." Sure, it'll hurt for a while, but the pain for them won't drag on for years. 4)Philosophy? -- When I get depressed, I can reason that my existence is dependent upon the world, and vice-versa. I exist because the world does....and the world, which is full of pain, exists because I do. If I kill myself, this world will no longer exist, and I will be free from the pain. Should I worry about the pain that it'll cause my family? If I don't believe in an afterlife, I won't be able to feel anything....my pain, their pain, etc... Now, these various cycles of thought patterns only arise whenever I am depressed. However illogical they may seem, during the depression they make absolute sense. To be or not to be? It's not a question, really...it is a choice. That is what I have to remind myself whenever I feel suicidal --Dan
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since December 23, 1999
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