*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2062810-Depression-and-death
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: ASR · Monologue · Biographical · #2062810
an account of a suicidal person.
How do I start this as? It is an account of part of my life which I do not ever tell. If it helps someone else, then I have done my part in trying to detour anyone to do this themself.

I was fifteen. My mom and I always had problems understanding each other, but I still loved her and didn't understand why she thought of me the way she did.

One day I went to a young mans house whose parents where there, and I enjoyed being there and drawing for his sister. Now I am going to try to tell this as best as I remember as I was still pretty much a child. Granted I was infuated with him as I wanted him to be my boyfried,but I thank God every day he wasn't.

Anyway, I came home and my mom was sewing at her machine. She stopped and asked where I had been and I told her. I also told her I was drawing for his sister. This is all true. I don't know why, but my mom immediately called me a whore, which I barley undesrtood what that meant, but knew it was bad, and she said to go to bed. I'm not really sure if she said go to bed or not. I am trying to remember the sequence as to what happened. Maybe she said go to my room. Whatever it was I did what she said. After dinner, I went to the bath room and drew me a very hot water bath. I then went into my mom and dads bedroom and into their bath room. I climb up and took al the medicine my mother had at the very top of the shelf. She had very bad migraines as did I and my sister.And she was on a lot of medicine.

I proceeded to take all the medicine that I had rounded dup from the shelf. I had no idea what it is and to be honest I really didn't care. What I felt was my mother had no use for me and so I needed to go away and get out of her hair.

I settled myself into the hot water in the tub and remember feeling very comfortable at the time. I managed to get out and somewhat dry off, I think. I went to my room where my sister and I both slept. I crawled into bed and I remember praying to God to forgive what I was doing. I remember the blackness and I know I saw God and he was not very happy with me. So many people talk about seeing the light and seeing a being. All I saw was darkness and this, I can't really say if it was a person or what it was, but they were very unhappy with me.

The next thing I remember was being in a car with my sister slapping me in the face over and over again. Just a wee bit more than she should have. I told her if I ever got out ot it I would let her know how it felt.

Strangely enough, something happened in the next couple of years that I did slap her in the face hard for what she said.

At the hospital they pumped my stomach ( this is where they put a tube down your nose and pump all the stuff in your stomach out) unplesant to say the least.

Then they sent me home after an observation of a few hours. When I was home, my depression had deepened. The doctor came out to visit me and he told my mom and dad I should be under a doctors care, a phyciatrist at most. In that day and time this was unheard of and no family, if they could avoid it, would send or even talk about sending one of their own to a doctor of such. So he was totally fazed out.

I remember my dad coming into my room one night when I was so very depressed and telling me if I wanted to die, he would poked the pills one by one down my mouth for me. In some respect that was a good thing. Now you ask why? Because I am one stubborn person and if someone says something like that to me, I immediately say to my self, you s__o_a b____, I will live and I will show you both what I am made of.
So there, I did live and my faith is everything and I have shown them all. Now it really doesn't matter that much, but I know I am a good person and I am a giving person and I will never allow anyone to feel as depressed like I was. I just wish I could have helped my daughter. God love her, she wanted to help the whole world and felt that the whole world wouldn't help her. That is my biggest mistake ever and I will never forgive myself for it.

By the way, I love my sister and we became very close before she died.

Here is the thing, if you are feeling down or suicidal, please, talk to someone. That's all it takes sometimes, is to talk to someone.

© Copyright 2015 Lynda Miller (lmiller7569 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2062810-Depression-and-death