DISCLAIMER: I am and have never been been diagnosed with any depressive, anxiety or fatal psychological disorders that would have possibly induced the event that I have shared below. Please proceed with caution or exit this post if you are susceptible to any triggering content.
Shaking as I type, body completely frozen, and breath simply still.
I blog about health, fitness, and wellness. And I am such a hypocrite because I’ve kept something so important in all of these aspects of life, yet, it is also such a personal and dangerously dark story that still sways me to tears to this day. But having reflected about after this incident, I think that hiding it will do more harm than good because we lose millions and millions of individuals every single day since they experience the exact same sensations as I did.
I’m so sorry if I disappoint you as you continue to read on this occurrence. Believe me when I say that I’ve never felt so distraught with myself, ever. Everything that I did, everything that I thought, and everything that I got my loved ones into violates what I’ve always preached on this blog. But like I’ve said so many times: I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. We all do. But to me, this was more than that.
Before I continue on, I just want to let you know that I am no psychologist. I am not a psychiatrist, nor a doctor, nor a mental health professional, nor a health care practitioner. Heck, I have no certification in any mental and psychological disorders. All of my knowledge of what goes on in mental health came from an AP Psychology class that was taught in high school. But what I do know is that mental and psychological disorders are absolutely serious. Anything that is taxing to your mental and psychological health is serious. Please. Talk to someone. Be someone’s support system. Do not resort to anything dangerous before it’s too late. This is so important.
That morning, I step out of the shower and check my phone for the time. I listen to a voicemail and suddenly, everything seems to stop. A giant block drops in my stomach. I realize my horrible, dreadful, shameful mistake. I immediately call the number back, about to burst into tears as my meek, trembling voice apologizes profusely and pleads for forgiveness. The voice on the other line pardons me with understanding. I hang up and recollect myself. I move on. I regain happiness. I make lunch and get ready to film a YouTube video that I’ve looked forward to for the longest time.
The garage door opens and my parents arrive home. They ask me how my day was; I proceed to tell them. Suddenly as I look into the hollow darkness in my parents’ eyes, the block in my stomach drops again, but hangs on a pendulum, rocking slowly back and forth as it churns my stomach into a knot. The scolding turns into yelling. My parents’ voices only grow; they grow louder and harsher. I find myself trapped, crouching on a couch as if it’s a deserted island in a pool of sharks. My body feels weak and cold. The voices don’t even sound like words anymore. I only hear noise. Brutal, sad, angry, and frustrated noises.
A minute after it all stops, I flee to my room with shame. Never in my life do I feel more like a failure than that day. I faint on my bed and stare at a blank, hollow ceiling. The ceiling clouds into colors. The longer I stare, the more nausea I feel. A dark hole suddenly tunnels in my mind. It lures me to come closer and listen. At this point, I have no desperation to think about anything else, so I do. I hear its whispers of secrecy: I have a solution. It’s going to be okay. Just listen to my plan. My hands rattle as cold tears bleed down my face, sticking to my skin and clogging my nose. Despite my physiological reaction of fear, my mind was at peace because of the dark tunnel’s words. I saw no other possibilities that seemed better. I look in the mirror one last time, clean my face and walk downstairs into the kitchen.
As I come closer to my destination, I almost feel happy, reborn, and ready for resurrection. But as I lean towards the cutting block, I’m overcome with a greater weakness than ever. My feeble hands clench themselves for mercy and my blood runs cold. My heart was trying to warn me of my morbid actions as it squirmed to escape the dark tunnel asphyxiating it until my heart was choked to death. The silence of the cries took the plan back in motion. Once I grab the weapon, I hold it to the target and take one last glance at my reflection. All at once, an avalanche knocks the tunnel out of my clouded brain and my heart is revived. The dam of tears breaks and I lose it within a second.
I did it. I tried.
I hear footsteps behind me and hear my dad ask what happened. My voice quivers, my mouth aches, and my mind struggles to piece a sentence together. Next thing I knew, I succumbed to the comfort of a couch, pouring out everything I had left to say. I end up spending two hours on the couch. Two hours of brutal honesty with my dad. Two hours of seeing the most amount of pain I burdened him with. Two hours of knowing that I dishonored my own faith. Two hours of coping with the fact that I fell so weak to such a demonic path.
Being raised as a Buddhist for a little more than eighteen years, I never really learned in-depth about certain Buddhist philosophies. During our couch conversation preceding everything else, my dad proceeded to tell me that suicide is one of the most significant wrongdoings in our Buddhist branch. Reincarnation takes up every single word and action of the previous life, and to commit such a tragic deed would carry on its pain in the next life. But because suicide is one of the worst misdemeanors, that particular burden would be suffered by every single life preceding mine.
I could’ve easily dismissed the idea because I don’t know what my future lives look like. I could be a businessman in Europe or a flower in a meadow in my next life. However, I realized that all life holds some kind of suffering. It is an inescapable part of the nature we inherit and we are surrounded by. It is just a matter of whether or not we choose to flee in fear, stand up to it and fight back, or we make it our friend so that it’s no longer suffering, but it’s a way of peace. I was too weak and selfish to think about everything else.
Once upon a time, I was such a selfish person. I didn’t worry about how others would feel, so as long as I accomplished MY goals. I’d drag my family in circles around town to find a restaurant that suited my dietary needs, otherwise my mental restrictions on food. I’d reject potential friendships in my high school classes because I thought that their academic level would set me back. I’d say hurtful things to my loved ones for the sake of comebacks when I could’ve just said, “I’m sorry.” I still am so guilty of focusing so much on my image, my reputation and my personal path to success. The story hasn’t ended yet. I am still so guilty of being selfish.
What I did was something that I thought would be for the greater good. To make a sacrifice. My family would have one less tuition to pay, one less plate to feed, one less phone bill to read, one less frustration to rat on about, and one less burden to carry. But I discovered that I was thinking selfishly. What I didn’t take into account was that my loved ones would also have one more black hole in each of their hearts. They would each have one more void of a missing person. A missing friend. A missing daughter. A missing grand-daughter. A missing cousin. A missing sister. A missing blessing. Two hours on the couch re-taught me how much of a blessing I am to my family and to the rest of my loved ones more than anything.
My life leaves a never-ending trail of abuse–all encompassing the bullying for my weight and my personality, the rejections I decided to leave behind because I found better things, and the holes in my life that I have yet to fill. I’ve done so much wrong that even a million hands couldn’t count everything out. However, my life also displays more positives than imaginable. I’ve been an understanding listener to so many who just needed an ear. I’ve been a second sister to those who feel lonely. I’ve been a bundle of joy for sad rainy days that need extra sunshine. I’ve been a cheerleader for those on dangerous endeavors and need a support system. I’ve been a source of inspiration for those who have goals that seem unattainable at first but are actually just within reach if they decide to try.
I’ve been a gift. I am a gift. You are a gift; you might not know it yet. But you will never see what you can truly do if you do not choose to. Start leading a new organization. Be an activist for a powerful cause. Share wisdom for the un-awakened. Offer a shoulder to cry on for those in grieving. Train those on a path towards success. Inspire and motivate the apathetic. Be the sister or brother that someone could never have. Parent a new generation that will make the Earth an even more beautiful planet. Exchange a smile. Be the reason someone looks forward to waking up in the morning. It all starts with you.
Choose to be here. You can start right now with knowing the fact that I love you.
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