The inside

On December 17th, 2018 I attempted suicide. I am not ashamed of it. I am not proud of it. I do not let it define me but I also keep the lesson I learned from it with me every day. One day I’ll be able to find the words to eloquently express the journey to that moment. Today is not that day. I can’t yet put into words what I myself have not fully dissected.

I did not just wake up that morning and snap. My life was not shitty. I had a home( actually two), I was loved, and on paper I seemed like I really had it going on. Yet I was burning alive. I desperately tried to put out the fire to no avail. Waking up became tiring and falling asleep became harder and harder each night. I dissociated. My tunnel vision grew narrow and narrower. I thought through every possible outcome for each problem in my life like doctor strange and came up with the same solution – to sacrifice myself. I was so far gone that I truly believed if I was gone everything would be better. I’d get the rest I craved so much. My boyfriend could meet someone more amazing, happier, normal and not have to deal with my shit. I’d leave my worldly possessions and money to my siblings. Everything would be kosher. It sounds crazy but my brain had tricked me.

But JusssSoul, suicide is never the answer!

I know, yet my brain had convinced me it was. I researched. Days upon days, I looked up different methods, success rates, time each took, and intensity levels. I felt like a failure at life. Defective. I did not want to fail at this. Yet, I did.

I don’t think I will ever forget studying my boyfriend’s face that morning. I had made peace with my decision and found solace in relearning every inch of his sweet skin. This would be the last time we’d see each other. It stung but I knew he’d be okay, he’d find someone better I told myself.

Everyone would be better without me existing. I would be at peace. Not longer aching every waking second and thrashing about in every nightmare.

It’s funny, that’s all I clearly remember. Everything after is still a blur, almost like a trick my brain is now playing on me. Robbed of clear recollection.

Fast forward to the sweet young nurse telling me I’m going to be okay. She actually looked younger than me. I awkwardly said thanks. I was numb. Not sad. Not mad. Not relieved. Not happy. Just not.

I thought whelp, look another thing you fail at. I mumbled something about leaving and they told me I’d have to wait. Sure, no problem.

Suddenly an older lady who could have been my grandma came in. She declared she was here to watch me. Watch me do what, I thought to myself. Get the fluids in me? Watch me lay there lifeless though my heart was still pumping? Watch the wires and needles connected throughout my body? But boy did she watch me, with a sneer and disgust. The minutes felt like hours and finally I was moved. Into a little waiting room. That smelled like PISS. I was not in Kansas anymore. No amount of heel clicking would get me out of this. I’m told I had to give up all my possessions.

I’m wheeled upstairs by a guard who flat out told me “You don’t look crazy ma.”

Well, I’d hope not. I’m now on the inside, a long long hallway.

Paperwork is shoved in front of me and the nurse had the AUDACITY to be annoyed at the fact I wanted to read them. I’ve seen this movie before sir.

No way I’m signing my life away.

More blurs. Flashes of images my brain tells me I lived through.

I’m frisked down to check for contraband. “We have to cut your weave out to chair your hair”

Aha, no. I may feel bewildered. No reason to look it too. Faceoff. JusssSoul won. I may not be able to keep my phone or watch but at least I can keep from rocking prison braids in here.

I didn’t sleep that night. Between my bunk mate snoring, tossing and turning, lit up halfway, the shuffle of constant feet – how could I ?

I didn’t eat that first day. Finally my doctor, well human with a coat and glasses, told me he wouldn’t let me go. He showed me he had a God complex to fulfill. He made me feel like an abomination.

Fast forward, it’s a day later and I’m being harassed by another patient I go to him and again dismissed. An abomination. Not worth having my fucking safety.

A bipolar patient with obvious hints of something else. My mother was bipolar and schizophrenic- I’m used to a lot. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words may never hurt me. Having a fucking apple thrown at my head and barely missing it ? That hurt my heart. A man hurling details of how he’ll make me his latest sexual conquest? That hurt my sense of autonomy. A cluster of nurses who did nothing but imply it’s my fault for my looks? That hurt my guard that now had to be at an all time high. A man running up on me while I’m in a hospital bed of all places? That hurt my fucking peace of mind.

This post could be longer. There are so many details in between and after. There are so many little self-deprecating jokes I could make. Lessons I could share? But none of them matter.

It only matters I was only released cause homeboy ended up assaulting his doctor. It only matters cause the nurses delayed my discharge out of annoyance at me vocalizing how they did nothing til it was too late. It only matters the next time I saw the doctor assigned to me all he had to say was he wasn’t the one who authorized my discharge. As if he was annoyed.


I think we’re at the end of the post. Sorry I’m not able to tie it all up in a pretty bow of words. This post wasn’t a present. Shit didn’t exactly feel like Christmas.

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The Amazing Luluu. Khaleesi of Kittens & Lifestyle Blogger.