There were many of us staying there that week; however, all of us were different but shared a common bond. We had unsuccessfully tried to kill ourselves.  Trapped in a room full of cutters, overdosers, self-aspyixanators, jumpers and others, quickly I felt overwhelmed with fear and isolation.  Before all of this transpired, I felt filled with darkness, despair, theoretically drowning, loneliness, and emotionless. I was stuck in an abyss of never-ending hopelessness.  The feeling of not wanting to live ate at me, the way a dead animal decomposes.  Slowly but surely, the depression entrapped me.  It had snuck up on me, and nobody else discerned it either. My depression sucked me into a sinking hole filled with my thoughts that suffocated me until I gave up and no longer tried to dig myself out.  The depression revealed itself as a chill in my heart, a numbness.  No emotions flowed through me.  I wore my everyday clothes to school, but I would also wear a mask that hid the pain from everybody.  It grew on me and leeched away all of my pride, self-esteem, happiness, and even energy. Finally, the depression weighed so heavily on me that it became impossible to disguise my frown with a masked smile, and it forced me to surrender to its control..  There were many factors to the reason I had given in:  The music didn’t help anymore.  The tears became dry.  My heart became numb.  The divorce destroyed me. Ultimately, I felt alone in the world.  

There was only one way to get out of my troubles: end my life.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I was only fifteen years old and always thought about suicide, That will never be me.  I was the one who always laughed and always smiled.  Nobody had expected me to be suicidal; nevertheless, that fateful night till vividly lives in my mind.    October 19, 2013, I decided that night developed into the night I would end everything. I was tired of getting blamed for everything, tired of divorce, and tired of the constant pain and misery.  I shut the wooden door and fumbled through the pills in the mirror cabinet. My eyes desperately stared back at me with a look that said, “I’m done here.”  To this day, I’m not really sure what was exactly going through my mind but blankness and uncertainty blanketed my tired mind.  I knew that I wanted to be happy, though, and death seemed like the only way. 

Filled with 400 mg of Flexeril, a very powerful muscle relaxer, and whatever pills I managed to shove down my throat, I was rushed to the E.R.  The regret slid down my throat, just like the pills did, forcibly.  My eyes, red and swollen from tears, burnt painfully.  My nurse for the night asked me questions:  “Why did you do it?” 
I could only answer with “I don’t know.”  The truth was I really didn’t know.  At least two doctors took five vials of blood for testing.  I, also, had to drink a large Styrofoam cup of the god-awful substance known as charcoal, black as the night sky.   This, too, had to be forced down my throat.  It tasted like burnt chalk, looked like melted down tar, and even had the texture of gooey sand.  After I finished the gut-wrenching beverage, I faintly remember being transported to my room for the night.  With an IV in my arm, I passed out in the comfy, warm hospital bed instantly.  

I woke up to a couple of visitors including the pastor of the church I rarely visit, the nurse who brought a lunch I could barely stomach, and the woman who told me the worse news. “You’ll be staying the night in the Toledo Children’s Psych Ward,” she explained. Possibly the heart painful part of the whole situation was seeing my mom heartbroken as she broke down.  All ‘Why me? Why us?’ I wondered.  After she stayed the night, the news of me staying in the Psych Ward broke here even more deeply.  My friend, Michael, had come to drop me off.  Once I arrived at the ward, the staff showed me around the small and cramped rooms of my home for the next five days. It reeked of hospital linens, hospital food, and regret.  ‘What have I done?’

Pure loneliness suffocated me while living in the hospital.  Being annoyed by the fact the staff treated us like mindless children, we sat down and watched videos on how to feel good about ourselves and recognize cognitions, which are defined as being the mental act of learning and understanding through thought, experience, and the senses.  This helped us only mildly in most of our situations. We, also, did other activities such as writing papers, making art and crafts, even yoga.   The nurse recognized me as the most sophisticated and unique member of our little group.  My food choices made her realize this, which consisted of rubbery meats and frozen potatoes.

On the day I finally left the hospital, my mom, Michael, and his mom had picked me up. The feeling of leaving that dreadful location was the most glorious feeling in my entire life; I felt actually happy.  Trying to get my mind off of everything, we had spent the day in Toledo, shopping and eating. None of it was mentioned; we laughed, smiled, giggled, and we were happy. This brings me to the first lesson I have learned which is the main lesson for parents and friends who have children or friends with problems like I do.  This lesson is that parents and friends should stay strong and not mention too much what happens because this will only upset him or her.  Mentioning events like that will only make matters worse. 

Now, this happiness didn’t last long; in fact, I found a counselor, fell in love, had my heart broken, made baggage for myself, but I haven’t attempted suicide. I have a life goal of becoming a psychologist and helping people.  I have saved at least three lives, and it feels pleasant.  Nobody deserves to be so low in his or her life that they were in the point I trapped myself in.   Everybody deserves to be helped.  I have learned that everybody is special and unique in his or her own way; nobody is nothing. Everything that happens in life has purpose. Don’t ever give up; it may feel impossible, but it is most definitely possible.  If anybody had to learn anything from reading this, it would be that everything that happens is either a lesson or a blessing, so learn the difference.  Always try to be happy, even just the little ounce of strength put into it will add up.  Everybody deserves to be happy, and with proper help, everybody can be happy.