When I was seven years old, my mom and I got into a fight. I have no clue what it was about, but I remember her yelling at me and sending me to my room. I think I made a mistake or broke something, and I cried so hard. When I got to my room, I cried for so long, and then the thought came to me: her life would be better without me. She'd only have to take care of one child, my brother would get more undivided attention which he needs, and whatever else. Them being upset didn't really come to mind, I just assume they'd realize the same thing soon enough.
So I (stupidly, but I was also seven to be fair) decided to attempt to hang myself. I got a pair of sturdy pj pants, tied them around my neck, pulled up my desk chair to beneath my ceiling fan, took the pants from around my neck and pulled them onto the fan, with a spot for my head. I stuck my head though and after a minute of standing there like that, testing putting one foot out, I stepped off. Of course, it only choked me for about a few seconds before it slid off the fan and I fell on the ground. No, my mom didn't come check in on me. So I cried for a bit before I untied the pants, and put my chair back and curled up in my bed.
I had a few attempts over the next few years, but when I was 10, (I remember I was ten because we had just moved and it was the 5th grade), I brought a bag of pills, just advil, up from my dads house to my moms house. I was planning on overdosing sometime with them, since my last three attempts doing so failed, I saved for a lot longer. My mother found them and accused me of doing drugs. I saw no point in lying and said "No, I was going to kill myself."
I think she thought I was bluffing, so she made me go downstairs. She made me strip to my underwear, and examined me for scars. It was all over my hips and such/ She had found out I was cutting myself throughout different times that month, but I continued because it was my punishment for "being like this", my ten year old self believed. She and my stepdad stood in the kitchen as I stood there, getting yelled and lectured at. I remember what my mom said. "If you really want to kill yourself, you'll go to the garage and get some bricks, and I'll even help tie them to your feet, and then you can jump into the pool." I left and came back with four bricks as I was also anorexic at the time and believed two bricks wouldnt weight me down (I was hysterical, and 10 years old, so my logic wasn't very sound).
She seemed so surprised and switched up, and I said "Where's the rope?" and she coddled me and finally realized I was actually going to kill myself.
Even though I am older now, and she treats me much nicer and I'm not as actively suicidal, I still am haunted by that. I have been clean of self harm for over a year now, but hearing her voice tell me to go get bricks still haunts me. I mean, maybe I should kill myself now. even though I am much happier and I have people who I think would genuinely miss me, I wonder if she would feel any guilt. If she would remember that moment.
So I (stupidly, but I was also seven to be fair) decided to attempt to hang myself. I got a pair of sturdy pj pants, tied them around my neck, pulled up my desk chair to beneath my ceiling fan, took the pants from around my neck and pulled them onto the fan, with a spot for my head. I stuck my head though and after a minute of standing there like that, testing putting one foot out, I stepped off. Of course, it only choked me for about a few seconds before it slid off the fan and I fell on the ground. No, my mom didn't come check in on me. So I cried for a bit before I untied the pants, and put my chair back and curled up in my bed.
I had a few attempts over the next few years, but when I was 10, (I remember I was ten because we had just moved and it was the 5th grade), I brought a bag of pills, just advil, up from my dads house to my moms house. I was planning on overdosing sometime with them, since my last three attempts doing so failed, I saved for a lot longer. My mother found them and accused me of doing drugs. I saw no point in lying and said "No, I was going to kill myself."
I think she thought I was bluffing, so she made me go downstairs. She made me strip to my underwear, and examined me for scars. It was all over my hips and such/ She had found out I was cutting myself throughout different times that month, but I continued because it was my punishment for "being like this", my ten year old self believed. She and my stepdad stood in the kitchen as I stood there, getting yelled and lectured at. I remember what my mom said. "If you really want to kill yourself, you'll go to the garage and get some bricks, and I'll even help tie them to your feet, and then you can jump into the pool." I left and came back with four bricks as I was also anorexic at the time and believed two bricks wouldnt weight me down (I was hysterical, and 10 years old, so my logic wasn't very sound).
She seemed so surprised and switched up, and I said "Where's the rope?" and she coddled me and finally realized I was actually going to kill myself.
Even though I am older now, and she treats me much nicer and I'm not as actively suicidal, I still am haunted by that. I have been clean of self harm for over a year now, but hearing her voice tell me to go get bricks still haunts me. I mean, maybe I should kill myself now. even though I am much happier and I have people who I think would genuinely miss me, I wonder if she would feel any guilt. If she would remember that moment.
