What most people don’t know about me is, I’ve been depressed for my entire life, well for as long as I can remember.. so, same thing right? Yes, ive been happy, but my periods of happiness and “sadness” last in increments of years. Two seems to be the pretty number. Each year that my “sadness” kicks in, it gets worse, and worse until one day I find myself writing this for the last time. Depression and whatever else I fucking have going on mentally, is a cold-hearted bitch.
People who know me at work, see a different side of me than my family or really any of my “friends” do. I don’t know if they paid enough attention or just acted like work was more important so they didn’t have to focus on their coworker practically killing themselves, slowly. I always tried to help my coworkers to the best of my ability, whether that was work related or they just needed to fucking vent. If they told me “I need to talk to you” or “Can i tell you something?” or even if they just went on a fucking rant with just me and them in the backroom. That shit is going to the grave with me and I swear by that, unless it’s something that needs to be taken care of (management being snakes or something that could be harmful to the person). I know they could see me struggle.. but it didn’t become known until my attempt in November. Thanksgiving (2018) to be exact. The two friends who happened to find me just in time before i bled out to the point of no return, just happened to be coworkers. One of which i was really… really close to. We’ll call him “Gatsby”. Him and i became close through work and we even lived together for a little while. I love(d) him. I did with all of my heart.
The other one who found me was pretty much a mutual friend who actually hated me at first when me and Gatsby started talking, but overtime i knew she learned it wasnt what it seemed and she grew the care, even though she likes to act like nothing bothers her and that she’s a tough ass bitch, which she is, don’t get me wrong. But as the title goes “strong people get weak too” and this, everyone knew, broke her. I heard every single word she said to me that night and i didn’t know she cared that much and i don’t think she did either. I guess it’s true, you learn who really cares about you when shit hits the fan. I actually posted that on my Facebook after those 5 nights i spent at the hospital, not only being on suicide watch, but also going through a miscarriage.
No, I didn’t know I was pregnant when i attempted. The whole week leading to my suicide attempt, i learned i was pregnant, but not any faster that knew, i lost her. Or at least that’s what the doctors thought. Come to find out, she was still alive. I actually lost her due to the trauma of my attempt. I caused my first baby to die. How can someone who’s already fucking suicidal, live with that? Best answer: They can’t.
I know people are going to question who the father would’ve been but he knows, he was there through it all… well he knows what I mean. Strong people get weak too. Even though shit has happened between Gatsby and I, He’s still around, he still cares, and as he says, he still “loves” me. But, how can i believe that with all of the monsters that control my head? You got it; I can’t.
From November until now, things have gotten better, but they’ve also gotten incredibly worse. Since my November attempt, I’ve participated in therapy and have been diagnosed with Bipolar, Depression, and so far Anxiety. Gatsby and I believe there’s more to it than that. They’ve changed my meds so much within these last couple months, that i can hardly function as a decent human being. At the hospital, they put me on Prozac, that just made my depression worse as well as caused me to see shit. I always felt like someone was behind me; A dark figure to be exact. Maybe it was my own demons following me..
After a month and a half, I got switched to Zoloft. It helped, a little bit. I was still having night terrors and seeing what was possibly my own demon behind me and my depression was still there, but it took off that edge. He was still there at night though, the depression. After another month, i was added Abilify to my Zoloft. Zoloft at night, and Abilify in the morning. The reason we both believe that there’s something more going on inside my head, is because Abilify is mainly to help treat Schizophrenia. The more and more i think about it, it was the pills i was prescribed making me see shit and making me fucking paranoid.
I had another attempt. I didn’t go through with it.. I did however attempt to overdose on my meds that i was prescribed. I knew the pills itself wasnt going to do the trick, but i wanted to feel the pain that i believe i deserve. So i took my depressed, crying ass to the Missouri bridge. As i walked along the divider between the edge and the street itself, only ONE person stopped to see if i as okay. Soon after he drove off, i had a feeling he was going to circle back to actually make sure i was as okay as i said i was. So, as soon as he was no longer in sight, i climbed the border. Got onto the other side and sat my ass down to where no one could see me. I started to write what was happening around me in an attempt for another suicide note, but as a poem. It’s also on my WordPress account. It’s titled “The way things are.” . Not too long after that, i started seeing cars along the side of the river that’s also a campground, i believe. I just thought it was some hooligans either fucking or doing a drug deal like people usually do over there. Then i started to see this spotlight on the river, then two, then three. They were looking for me. Finally one of the cars shined its spotlight along the edge of the bridge and spotted me. I was still sitting, still debating. Soon after, two cops found me and walked me off of the bridge. They and the ONE who called, were worried that i was suicidal. Smart. I told them i wasnt, just needed some air and a place to cool off. They offered to have EMS check me out and i knew if i said yes, they’d see that I’ve previously attempted. I didn’t want that, so i simply declined and walked back to my car that was parked at that the hotel across the street.
I then after, asked my ex who’s also still my friend, or at least i think so to come over because i didn’t trust myself to be alone. I told him what happened and how i was feeling and that i just simply wasnt fucking okay. About 30 minutes go by and he says to me “someone wrote about you in the Leavenworth neighborhood watch page.” and that ONE surly did
“Ok so I was coming across the Missouri bridge toward Kansas and I seen a very young woman walking towards the Missouri side in a black leather jacket and blue jeans with long blonde hair. I turned my car around and asked if she was ok or needed a ride. She seemed a little sad and said no thank you. So I called the police to check on her cause I was worried. I drove to the Missouri side and spun back around to head home and with in that 30 second u-turn she disappeared.
I dont know what happened I got back to the Kansas side pulled over and ran down the bridge to see if I could find her and I couldn’t find anything.
I’m praying you are ok and that someone you knew stopped and picked you up.
If you are her and you see this please don’t be mad I called the police just know I was worried about you’re safety and I’m concerned and I really hope you see this and let me know you’re ok.” – the ONE
I messaged you and thanked you for checking on me. You were the only one that night to see the pain inside me. I also know I’ve seen you before. You work for spectrum, I believe. Nonetheless, you saved my life that night.
I went to work the next day, acting like nothing happened while i was still going through the effects of the overdose. I was exhausted. A couple of weeks have went passed since then. It’s currently 12 days before my 20th birthday. I know im not going to make it. I just quit my only source of stable income today by being a no-call no-show. I was going to quit anyways because i just can’t deal with the constant drama and the belittling all of the time. I even went to my store manager the other day and told him that its making me to the point to where i cant do my job, that it’s either i get transferred, or i just quit. i do love the job itself, but the two above me, need a lot of self-reflection done. As management, not the people themselves. I love my coworkers, they actually help a lot when im hiding my struggle and they go out of their way to make me laugh. I know a few can tell when im hurting, simply because when im hurting, im not making puns or sexual jokes. It’s just how i do things. “that’s what she said”.