In 2014 the World Health Organization stated there are approximately 800,000 people who successfully commit suicide per year.
If you do the math, this checks out to be roughly one person every 40 seconds.
There are many reasons I tried to kill myself. I blamed myself for something I couldn’t control. I didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone about it. Others assured me all that awaited me in my depression was alcohol and drugs, with the desire to die remaining.
You see, I mainly find it difficult to comprehend how I have survived on luck. If I had chosen a larger branch I wouldn’t be here right now.
I’m scared that one of these days I won’t be able to respond to the question “how are you doing?” and instead just start listing names of the unlucky.
John. Danielle. Michael. Jason. Dalton.
Of that 800,000 one year, I was close with five of them.
There are many days where I think about them and feel guilty. Why did I survive? Why didn’t they?
The stigma seems to constantly drown those who are trying their hardest to be heard, and all I want is to have my voice come out louder and stronger before I sink.
That’s all we want to do. Yes, seeking help is a cry for help, but there is no weakness in that. We must make noise if we want to be heard. There are too many who die in silence. Who have been taught it’s impolite to talk about depression.
If I die, it’s probably best to do it in silence.
We are constantly fighting with every fiber of our being. We have been beaten and bruised, and some have been told their battle scars are just temporary. That they’ll heal with time.
“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”
It is NOT a temporary problem. Despite what most people think, those who survive a suicide attempt often make another attempt within a year. The problem, depression, is a nightmare that follows you everywhere you go. When you wake up, you wish you could go back to sleep. You don’t want to get out of bed.
You don’t want to be told you should just try to cheer up. As if those were the magic words needed to seal away the villain invading your mind.
You don’t want to hide your truth behind a smile.
And you absolutely don’t want your sister to see you like this.
It haunts you. Sometimes it leaves, but it comes back every so often to remind you of its existence.
800,000 people die every year.
In silence. Because of silence.
And while you have been reading this, four people in the world have killed themselves.
Does that make you uncomfortable?
Good. Then you should speak up about it.