Short Summary
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I'm 23 years old. I'm Ukrainian. Since I was eighteen, I've been trying to move to the best European country available to me, with the desire to stay there permanently and obtain citizenship so that I never have to return to Ukraine. I know what you might think. You are a man who managed to escape from Ukraine at the worst possible time. You got to a country where millions and maybe billions of people would dream of living. The state of this country provided you with free housing and allowance. The opportunity to study or earn money. How stupid do you have to be to choose suicide over enjoying these opportunities? I agree with all these statements myself, but here's what I want to say. My last two months have been like this: wake up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, sleep. On weekends, I could only go to the store and spend the rest of the day glued to my phone. As a person, I'm not very sociable; maybe I don't go anywhere because I don't drink alcohol at all. And I don't drink alcohol because I know it makes you stupid, and you can also become an alcoholic. And the last thing I was afraid of was if I liked alcohol, one day I might abuse it to get very drunk and attempt suicide.
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Beginning of the story
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It was an especially busy day compared to others, although I still don't understand my job responsibilities very well here, but I could follow the instructions given by experienced colleagues. I received another task from my colleague (who is unofficially considered senior in the hierarchy compared to other colleagues). It was a moderately simple task, to put an item in a bag, but I did it differently, and my boss reacted, 'this is wrong, do it like this.' Now I admit, I was wrong in this situation, although I still don't know why my way of doing the task was considered wrong, but I just had to redo it as he said.
This is where the worst part of my story begins.
I take a knife in my right hand and put it on my left arm and ask him two or three times: '*name*, do you want me to do this?' At this point, he just turns away from me and continues with his business. He only said the phrase twice 'don't do that,' but looking at his reaction, I understood that he simply didn't take me seriously. I make a cut on my hand and see my dark blood shooting out. I start screaming in pain, release the knife, and fall to the ground, continuing to scream. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but it seems that after 20 seconds of lying on the floor, he started doing something with my hand to stop the bleeding. Other people approached and also started helping me. And after a while, an ambulance arrived, they put me in the car and took me to the hospital.
Unfortunately my suffering was not over yet as on arrival at the hospital the paramedics started bandaging my arm and it was painful again. They also informed me that it would be better to have an operation to find out if all the key ligaments were working correctly. I agreed to the surgery which took place the next day. They transferred me to a room with other patients and assigned a guard to me. In the morning at 9:00, they took me to the operating room and performed the surgery under anesthesia. After the operation, I woke up with a cast on my hand and was taken back to the common room with other patients. The cast should be removed from my hand in two weeks. The doctor said that for maximum recovery, it may take up to eighteen months, but even after that, it's not guaranteed that my hand will work perfectly at 100%, maybe 90% or 95%, because the cut looks a bit deep.
After another day in the ward, they asked me if I wanted to go home already. I said I wanted to go home, and the next day my colleague from work drove me home. It's been several days since I've been home, and all I do is eat, sleep, and sit on my phone, much like my usual weekends, except that I do everything with my right hand and constantly look for a comfortable position for my left hand.
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In conclusion of my story.
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I can't say that I feel happy or sad at the moment. The only thing I understand now is that such painful suicide methods are not for me. And overall, if you've ever thought about cutting your veins, I want to warn you that it will be the greatest physical pain in your life, and your body will experience the most terrible feeling of pain from it. Now I'm thinking that I'll have to accept reality, and I'll have to work for the next two to three years and earn money. I'm going to earn the necessary amount of money for a trip to Switzerland, and the rest I'll send to my family as my last financial assistance to them in my life.
---------------------------------
I'm 23 years old. I'm Ukrainian. Since I was eighteen, I've been trying to move to the best European country available to me, with the desire to stay there permanently and obtain citizenship so that I never have to return to Ukraine. I know what you might think. You are a man who managed to escape from Ukraine at the worst possible time. You got to a country where millions and maybe billions of people would dream of living. The state of this country provided you with free housing and allowance. The opportunity to study or earn money. How stupid do you have to be to choose suicide over enjoying these opportunities? I agree with all these statements myself, but here's what I want to say. My last two months have been like this: wake up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, sleep. On weekends, I could only go to the store and spend the rest of the day glued to my phone. As a person, I'm not very sociable; maybe I don't go anywhere because I don't drink alcohol at all. And I don't drink alcohol because I know it makes you stupid, and you can also become an alcoholic. And the last thing I was afraid of was if I liked alcohol, one day I might abuse it to get very drunk and attempt suicide.
------------------------------------
Beginning of the story
------------------------------------
It was an especially busy day compared to others, although I still don't understand my job responsibilities very well here, but I could follow the instructions given by experienced colleagues. I received another task from my colleague (who is unofficially considered senior in the hierarchy compared to other colleagues). It was a moderately simple task, to put an item in a bag, but I did it differently, and my boss reacted, 'this is wrong, do it like this.' Now I admit, I was wrong in this situation, although I still don't know why my way of doing the task was considered wrong, but I just had to redo it as he said.
This is where the worst part of my story begins.
I take a knife in my right hand and put it on my left arm and ask him two or three times: '*name*, do you want me to do this?' At this point, he just turns away from me and continues with his business. He only said the phrase twice 'don't do that,' but looking at his reaction, I understood that he simply didn't take me seriously. I make a cut on my hand and see my dark blood shooting out. I start screaming in pain, release the knife, and fall to the ground, continuing to scream. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but it seems that after 20 seconds of lying on the floor, he started doing something with my hand to stop the bleeding. Other people approached and also started helping me. And after a while, an ambulance arrived, they put me in the car and took me to the hospital.
Unfortunately my suffering was not over yet as on arrival at the hospital the paramedics started bandaging my arm and it was painful again. They also informed me that it would be better to have an operation to find out if all the key ligaments were working correctly. I agreed to the surgery which took place the next day. They transferred me to a room with other patients and assigned a guard to me. In the morning at 9:00, they took me to the operating room and performed the surgery under anesthesia. After the operation, I woke up with a cast on my hand and was taken back to the common room with other patients. The cast should be removed from my hand in two weeks. The doctor said that for maximum recovery, it may take up to eighteen months, but even after that, it's not guaranteed that my hand will work perfectly at 100%, maybe 90% or 95%, because the cut looks a bit deep.
After another day in the ward, they asked me if I wanted to go home already. I said I wanted to go home, and the next day my colleague from work drove me home. It's been several days since I've been home, and all I do is eat, sleep, and sit on my phone, much like my usual weekends, except that I do everything with my right hand and constantly look for a comfortable position for my left hand.
---------------------------------------------
In conclusion of my story.
---------------------------------------------
I can't say that I feel happy or sad at the moment. The only thing I understand now is that such painful suicide methods are not for me. And overall, if you've ever thought about cutting your veins, I want to warn you that it will be the greatest physical pain in your life, and your body will experience the most terrible feeling of pain from it. Now I'm thinking that I'll have to accept reality, and I'll have to work for the next two to three years and earn money. I'm going to earn the necessary amount of money for a trip to Switzerland, and the rest I'll send to my family as my last financial assistance to them in my life.
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