Teenage Years

 When I was in Junior High, 2 classmates died by suicide. I didn't know either of them well, didn't even really know what suicide was. I learned a lot at that time.

Tom Eschler died first, he lived about 2 blocks away, and I knew who he was, and we had mutual friends but never interacted.

Tim Wright died exactly one month later; there were rumors the two boys (best friends) had made a suicide pact. I am not sure if that was true or not. I only knew Tim's name.

As you can imagine there was a lot of talk at school. Everyone was devastated by the news, even if we didn't know the boys personally, it was a difficult thing to have happen, especially in Junior High.

I remember being afraid to ask questions, hoping someone else would ask the questions I wanted answers to. I wanted to know how they did it, (perhaps I could try that?) where they did it? did they leave a note? Was it really a sin to kill yourself?

I did find out that one died by gunshot and one died by overdose. A couple years after this, I started dating Brian Flanders, he was part of the suicide pact and was to be the 3rd one to die. After the first 2 deaths, all of the mutual friends of the two boys were taken to counseling and Brian ended up getting help instead of completing his suicide plan. Brian told me that his plan was to split his wrists. He described the best way to do this.

Before all this, I had never thought there was a way to escape my constant racing thoughts. When others talked about how terrible and selfish the suicides were, I thought "I wish I could do that.". I listened intently as classmates and friends talked about all the ways one could die by suicide.

I heard about cutting, but I was too scared to cut deeper than the surface. 

I heard about shooting, but I didn't have access to, or knowledge of how to use a gun.

I heard about overdosing. This I could do! I didn't know that it actually required certain medications, and my Tylenol, Aspirin, Aleve, and Ibuprofen weren't going to do much. I had dizzy spells and ringing ears but that was it. I kept trying to take more and more but the results didn't change. I was disappointed. I tried to talk to Brian but he told me that it was stupid to try with those medications. I just decided to write my feelings in my journal instead of talking to someone. Brian read my journal, and told my mom to look at it.

I came home one day to my mom crying and holding my journal. Soon after, she got me in therapy and I started taking antidepressants. Things looked up for the first time in my life.