Thirteen

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A note before you read: This blog discusses bullying, suicide, and my own suicide attempt at thirteen. Please take care of yourself while reading and decide whether this is something you feel comfortable reading today.

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Yes, I was catching up on one of my favourite shows again and yes, that is where this blog came from. There was a song sung about a young girl who was bullied so badly that she took her own life.

That really hit hard.

It hit hard because at thirteen, I attempted to take my own life. I remember how scared and alone I felt at that time, so when I heard this song, all I could think of was that poor girl. That poor family. Those damn bullies. And something I have only learned in the last few years of my own journey, and that is—you don’t know what you don’t know.

My heart goes out to that family. And to that poor thirteen-year-old girl too. I know she can hear me. She may not be on this earth any longer, but I absolutely know that she can hear me, and I am so sorry that she felt so alone and so, so scared. I wish no one would ever have to feel that alone, or scared, or unworthy. Ever.

I also know in my heart that the people who bullied me, and the people who bullied her, may have been hurting themselves or may have been hurt by someone else. That’s what I hope anyway. And by that I don’t mean that I hope someone was hurting them. What I mean is, I hope that they didn’t hurt us for absolutely no reason.

I understand free will. I understand that there is good and evil and we have the right to choose which one we want to run with, but I really hope that no one chooses evil, hate, or hurting someone as their first choice. I really hope that hurting or bullying someone isn’t a choice at all, but something that has somehow been ingrained in them. That also makes me sad. I would never want anyone to be in a situation that ingrains hatred, hurting someone, or bullying into them. I say that because it could mean that they are hurting too.

There is something you hear in 12-step meetings, and that is, hurt people hurt people. I understand that as a person who is on her own healing journey, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it. It doesn’t mean that I think it is okay or excusable just because that person was hurt.

As I look back on my life through this journey, I realize that I have hurt people too. I have hurt people who hurt me, who I thought were a threat to me, or who were an absolute threat to me. In many circles they call that survival. I do understand that I needed certain things to survive many circumstances throughout my life. What I wish I had known was that I didn’t have to be spiteful during that survival.

I was an angry, terrified, perpetually sad and hurt thirteen-year-old. Looking back now as an adult, I had many reasons to feel all of those things. And as a child, quite frankly, I should have felt safe.

But I didn’t.

Much of the time I didn’t feel safe, and as I type that right now, it brings tears to my eyes. There has been so much to unpack that sometimes it brings me right back to the darkness. I am getting better at that though. You know, not letting the darkness fool me. My sponsor says you have to feel it to heal it, but sometimes I would really like to go back to not feeling anything again.

That’s what I did as that thirteen-year-old who swallowed a bottle of pills hoping to never wake up.

That child who had fought so hard to survive so many times in her short life decided, at that moment, that enough was enough. So that child took an entire bottle of pills, crawled into bed, and hoped to never wake up.

But I did.

I woke up in a hospital room to adults telling me how stupid I was.

STUPID! DID THEY THINK THAT THAT WAS GOING TO HELP! DID THEY NOT THINK FOR A SECOND THAT THIS CHILD MIGHT BE CRYING FOR HELP! DID THEY NOT THINK FOR A SECOND THAT THIS CHILD WAS HURTING!!

And yes, it still brings tears to my eyes at this very moment.

At that moment, I remember thinking no one—and I mean no one—has ever listened to me and no one ever will. I remember thinking, I am never, and I mean never, going to feel another feeling.

And I didn’t.

I stuffed everything, and I mean everything, as far down as I could. I often say that I stuffed it down to my toes. When I say that, I squinch my toes, and to this day I still do that when I am struggling with something.

The problem with that, though, is that instead of feeling anything, I just got angry. Really, really angry.

That anger ate at me for so long. Sometimes it would come out in rage. A rage that scared even me! When it did come out, it usually felt warranted. You know, like when it feels like someone is attacking you, your character, your values, your family, or anything you strongly believe in.

What I now know at this point in my journey is that rage has no place anywhere in my world. If I am feeling rage, I need to look at myself because I am the only person I can change.

I guess what I am trying to say throughout this entire rant is—THINK!

THINK before you speak.

THINK before you lash out.

THINK before you say something nasty to someone just because you are hurting.

THINK before you say or do something nasty to someone just because you think it will make your misery hurt a little less.

Because what I do know is that even if saying those words makes you feel less hurt or in less pain, those words hurt someone else.

And I also know that those of us who have felt those cutting words or actions—we don’t forget. We remember them for years to come. Even if you didn’t mean what you said, we remember.

We remember for so long that it can shape our lives in painful ways. We remember so much that it can completely change our path. We remember without even realizing just how much those words and actions have shaped us—until one day, we do.

Some of us, like me, are lucky enough to find a way through that pain. Some of us, like me, are lucky enough to learn from that pain. Some of us, like me, are lucky enough to forgive.

Because if we don’t learn to forgive, it’s like drinking the poison and expecting the person who hurt us to die. And that doesn't help us at all.

Forgiveness isn’t about the person who hurt us. It’s about us. It’s about me.

It’s about allowing the feelings to flow through us. Allowing ourselves to feel the pain, to learn from the pain, to grow, and to be better because of the pain.

That is one of the things I strive for today—to be a better person than I was yesterday. I can only do that by looking at myself thoroughly and honestly and owning up to the mistakes I have made or the hurt I have caused.

That is something I will always strive for.

Especially now.

Now that I know what I know.

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If you are struggling, please reach out.

If anything I have shared in this blog has brought up thoughts of suicide, hopelessness, or feelings that are becoming too difficult to carry on your own, please know that you do not have to carry them alone.

If you are in Canada, you can call or text 9-8-8, the Suicide Crisis Helpline, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You can also visit the 9-8-8 Suicide Crisis Helpline for information and support.

If you feel that you are in immediate danger or may hurt yourself, please call 9-1-1 or go to your nearest emergency department.

If you are outside Canada, please contact the suicide or crisis service available in your country, or your local emergency services.

Please reach out to someone. A family member. A friend. A doctor. A counsellor. A crisis responder. Someone you trust.

You deserve to be heard. You deserve support. And you do not have to face this moment alone.