Excerpt from Story of Hope

The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is sponsoring a walk tomorrow. It is one of the most important causes you could support. As a result, I am dropping a chapter from my memoir, Story of Hope, to share with you my own warning.

Trigger Warning: suicide attempt, strong language

Chapter Fifty-Four: In Which I Try to Commit Suicide

The day I tried to kill myself started off like any other. Namely, it started off with me feeling sick. Really sick. Nauseas, faint, headache. I went to tech support to lie down so Mark could keep an eye on me.

Dave and Debbie came by the dorm to drop off some Latuda samples. While they sat in my bedroom I excused myself. I would allow you a window into my thoughts except I don’t remember them. Instead I remember actions. They play out like some live action in my mind. Some parts loop repeatedly like the moment I entered the bathroom. The moment I picked up the razor.

The razor was still where I left it, next to the shampoo and my soap. I took it in my hands which were not my own. I held out my wrists. They seemed so small and frail. I took the razor and did my best to cut as deep as possible. A cascade of blood ran out but I had a feeling I hadn’t cut very deep. Amazingly enough, I even sucked at suicide.

When I was confident I did all the damage I could do, I returned to my room. Holding out my arms I said, “You should take me to the hospital” Dave gasped “Oh my God!”

I had a new mission. I ran to get my pills from the lockbox in the closet. Debbie, seeing this, grabbed me and pulled me to the floor where she would not let go. I began crying.

“I want to die! Let me die please” I sobbed. I barely knew myself. The only thing I knew was that I wanted…no, needed to not exist anymore. There was an avalanche of pain and I had to escape. I was struggling to get away from Debbie, kicking and screaming.

“Let me go!” I seriously debated hitting her in the face so I could get to my meds. I wanted to hurt myself so much and in the process I didn’t really care who else got hurt. But this was Debbie. Debbie who had been so kind, like a second mother to me. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Please,” I said relaxing back into her arms “Let me go”

“Not a chance, darling. It’s not your time yet.”

“Please,” I begged. The room went quiet, then I started screaming again ”Let me die!”

“What should I do?” Dave asked.

“How about call an ambulance?” Debbie asked holding me down.

“What about her mother?”

“First call an ambulance” I was in a fog again. The words “attempted suicide” drifted over to me as though through a velvet curtain.

The next call Dave made was to my mom. I was screaming so loudly I didn’t hear what Dave told her but he held out the phone to me and suddenly, I wanted my mother.

“Mom!” I howled “I love you, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.” It was as though years of pain had finally caught up to me. I had used booze and sex and was left with the suffering coursing through my bloodstream.

“I love you sweetie” Mom said, trying to sound calm “We’ll be there soon. Dad is on his way home from work” I dissolved into sobs and Dave took the phone away. I noticed my Pooh Bear stuffy was only a few feet away from me. I pulled it closer to me and hugged it to my chest.

There was a banging on the door. Campus security was here. I actually recognized some of the officers. They seemed at a loss, confronted by a very different Hope than the one they knew.

“Hope,” one of the guys said sounding genuinely concerned “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not like her! I’m not like Amanda” I screamed.

“Sweetie, we know you’re not,” Debbie said as one of the police officers whispered to the other “Whose Amanda?”

I was still crying and struggling to get free from Debbie’s grasp when the paramedics arrived.

“Hope, I can’t go in the ambulance with you. I need to drive. Dave can’t,” Debbie said as she released me into the care of the paramedics.

“Please don’t leave me,” I sobbed.

“I would never leave you. I’ll meet there,” she promised.

Meanwhile, the paramedics helped me onto the stretcher and bundled me in a blanket. They did not take away my bear which I was very grateful for.

“Hope” one of the paramedics told me as they carried me out of the building “it’s going to be okay.”

Outside we had attracted a crowd. I wasn’t embarrassed about the stretcher. I just didn’t care. It felt like I was floating.

The first thing I saw when we got outside was Mark’s face.

“Mark!” I felt my own face break into a smile. I could tell he was worried but he tried to hide it.

They carried me past him and loaded me into the ambulance and we began the trip up the hill , this time to Geisinger hospital.

While we drove, the paramedics did their best to calm me down. One paramedic began telling me a story.

“I was on duty once and I heard an address come through over the radio. It was my address. My mom had tried to kill herself”

The hospital was right up the block. There was no time for an elaborate story. The ambulance had stopped. We had reached out destination.

“My mom got help. She recovered” Only bits and pieces of the story were registering with me. I couldn’t process very much. They were now unloading me. The paramedic was walking alongside the stretcher determined to get through to me.

When we reached the inside of the ER, I saw room was scarce . They parked me next to the nurses’ station where they could keep an eye on me.

“I got to go, Hope” the paramedic told me. Her job here was done, “But take care. If I’m back later I’ll try to visit you”

The paramedics left. I was alone, The nursing station completely ignored me even though my screams hadn’t stopped. In fact they only grew louder. My head was starting to hurt. I guess I said this out loud because one of the nurses unsympathetically said “Maybe if you stopped screaming the headache will pass.” I wasn’t sure at what point the voices had resurfaced but they were back. I continued to scream to drown them out.

“Where’s Debbie? Where’s Debbie?” I screamed. I couldn’t face this alone. I was facing the worst in my head. My only connection to reality was wearing thin.

“She left.” said a nurse walking by without even glancing at me.

“She….she left?” I renewed my screams with a vengeance.

This time no one even looked at me. I was beginning to get angry and scared. Why was no one helping me? I needed help. The voices were telling me things, giving me instructions. I was fighting them but finally I couldn’t hold off much longer.

I leapt sideways off the stretcher and began to sprint towards the exit but I was wearing socks and I slid on the floor and staff moved to block my path. I was trapped.

“Get back on the stretcher” a man told me, not unkindly but firmly.

“Unbelievable. She just jumped the stretcher. I’ve never seen anything like it.” It was the same nurse who had not so gently broken the news about Debbie leaving me. She continued talking about me as though I were not there.

“Well maybe if you gave me some fucking headache medicine, I wouldn’t have to jump the stretcher” I yelled. It felt good. To vomit up my rage.

“Watch your language. There are children here.” I had never been so out of control or felt so scared of myself.

“You have no compassion!” I told her.

“You know I kinda feel bad for her” I heard one of the nurses say. I clutched Pooh to my chest and cried knowing we would have to separate when I went to the psych hospital.

They moved me to the psych section of the ER which was a lot calmer. They found me a room with a bed and gave me some medicine to calm me down.

“You have a visitor” the nurse told once I had gotten settled in my new quarters.

It was Dave. “You’re here!” I said feeling much better and probably not just from the medication “They told me you left”

“No of course we wouldn’t leave. Debbie had to go pick Bryan up from work but she’ll be back. Speaking of which, I spent a lot of time in the waiting room with Mark. He seems like a great guy” Mark was here too?

“He left for class but I’m sure he’ll be back later” Dave assured me.

Mark did come back and so did Debbie. The three of them sat by my bedside while my parents drove down from New York.

“What are those?” Mark asked indicating the large bandaids on my wrists.

“That’s from where I tried to kill myself” I told him. Mark looked horrified and then I realized…he didn’t know! No one had told him why I was in the ER. I could tell this news really upset Mark but he tried to hide it for my sake. It never occurred to me until years later that Mark could have cut his losses and ran. But he chose to stay with me for better or worse.

My parents arrived within the hour and that meant time to say goodbye to Dave and Debbie and Mark.

“I’ll visit tomorrow in between classes” promised Mark and just like that he was gone.

I was so glad to see my parents. I tried explaining what happened to them and to the psychiatrist on duty but I found words couldn’t adequately describe my very strange experience. I wasn’t depressed, I had so much to live for.

“Why did you want to kill yourself?” the psychiatrist asked. He was a bit of a tough-love kind of guy and he scolded me for putting my parents through “something terrible like this.”

“I don’t know” wasn’t a very satisfying answer but I didn’t have a better one.