Making it Through the Night

I sit on the edge of my bed in my dorm room, staring at the drawer where I keep my toiletries and medicine.  I imagine what I can use from that drawer to kill myself. Tears stream down my cheeks as I think of the bottle of Tylenol. There's about twenty in there.  500-milligram tablets - but that probably wouldn't do it. The bottle of cough syrup? But that would just make me sleep.

My sorrow deepening, and the desire to escape exploding inside my tormented mind, I get off the bed and walk over to the dresser. I look at myself in the mirror.  What a failure you are! You are so stupid!  Oh God, I hate myself!

Sadness overwhelms me, I tentatively reach out my hand, fearfully touching the drawer as though by that mere act I am damning myself to hell. I recoil my hand and sob. "You can't do this!" I say aloud, chastising myself. Oh God, I pray, I just want everything to stop!  I fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands as I sob in a desperate hope to block out the world. I try to calm myself, but the thoughts of what it means to continue living come back to me. It seems an unbearable pain to cope with my life in this world.

The desire to escape swells in me again. Once more, I reach out a shaky hand to touch the drawer, slowly rubbing my fingers across its cool surface as I battle the mixed desires in my head. Tears sting in my eyes. The desire to open the drawer is so overwhelming, yet so incredibly damning at the same time.

Courage finally builds up within me and I slowly pull open the drawer. I reach in with a shaking hand and pick up the small wax paper wrapped pedicure blades. The tears continue to stream down my cheeks as I stare at the unassumingly deadly weapon I now hold in my hand. I stare at it, toying with the thought of using the sharp blades, contemplating their effectiveness in ending my life.

I close my hand around the pack, then slowly walk back to the bed and kneel down beside it. I drop the pack on the bed, and glare at the potentially lethal object before me. Carefully, I begin removing the wax paper. Inside are three shiny blades, which slide off the wax paper onto the pastel comforter, giving a slight clinking noise as they land.

I just want it to end! I am such a failure!  I have messed up so badly and I just can't handle this anymore. I cover my face with my hands, sobbing hopelessly. Then with a sudden burst of anger I look up toward the ceiling. Why are You doing this to me God!  Why can't You fix everything!  Why is my life so screwed up?

I carefully pick up a blade with my right hand. I hold the sharp edge parallel to my left arm, placing the edge against my wrist. My hand shakes and I nick the skin on my wrist, bringing a small dark red droplet of blood to the surface of my skin. I break down with a loud sob, throwing the blade across the room. The blade bounced off the hard tile floor and lands under the dresser. Letting out a sorrowful yell, I collapse to the rug-covered floor in front of my bed, covering my face with my hands in an attempt to block out the pain of the reality of my life. "You can't do this! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I cry out angrily.

I crawl onto the bed and cuddle a pillow, drenching it with tears, and allowing it to stifle the sound of my sobs. Mom taught you better, I think, angry with myself for even considering suicide. Who are you to think that you have the right to end what God created and gave to you? And what would ya tell God - "Sorry, I couldn't stand the thought of trying to fix what I had gotten myself into?  Sorry, no I didn't trust You to get me through this!"

I yell out in anger at myself, sobbing loudly.  After a few minutes I calm somewhat.  I decide to leave the room.  I need to get out, get away from the thoughts of suicide that are tormenting me.  I go down the hall to the common kitchen area and walk to the window.  I push open the window and feel the cool breeze. The screen is missing because of the immature antics of other hall mates throwing water balloons at unsuspecting passersby.  

I lean my head out of the window and look across the campus. The ninth floor of the women's dormitory gives a full view of the Western Carolina University campus, all nestled in a valley of mountains.  I take in a deep breath and close my eyes. I wish I could just fly away, over the mountains and just keep going and going, never stopping!  I look down at the sidewalk below and have a momentary thought of jumping, then just as quickly slammed the window closed.  I have to get out of here!

It is late winter, and I have no shoes on, but I don't care.  I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but I don't bother to go back to my room to put on better clothing.  I want to feel the pain of the cold.  Somehow feeling that pain lessens the emotional pain I am trying to run away from.  WCU has fairly mild winters, considering, so it probably in the low fifties or upper forties.  I have no plan of where to go, but I know I cannot be in my room where the suicidal thoughts keep me awake and obsessed.

I walk across the street, up the sidewalk to the bell tower, stopping in front of it to look up at its illuminated face. It is three forty in the morning.  I cry as I realize how much time there is until the rest of the world rises, until I can exhaust myself and sleep or have someone to distract me. 

A screech echoes from the bell tower and a bat flutters out into the night sky. I gasp, startled at the sudden noise. I had forgotten about the bats that inhabit the tower a night.  I decide to walk on.  I walk fast, and see an occasional student also out walking at this odd hour of the morning, but they are never close.  After making it around half the campus, I decide to sit and stare at the stars.  There are two semi circle benches with a pathway in-between, but it is not a well-traveled area of campus.  In some ways, I want someone to see me, to stop me and ask me why I am out dressed like I am.  I want someone to save me, help me, make it all better.  In other ways, I am petrified of being seen.  I am ashamed of myself, and afraid if they really know what I am thinking, they will lock me up and throw away the key. 

To avoid being seen, I choose to sit in the pathway, leaning against the bench.  I can see my dormitory from where I sit, and all my mistakes and feelings of failure flood my soul.  I cry and pray to God for help.  God, I am so confused.  I know I need help.  I don't want to die but I can't stop these thoughts.  I feel like I have messed up so badly.  I have let everyone down.  I'm not going to graduate.  I can't go out into the real world!  I am worthless God!  I don't know what to do!  It seems no matter what I do I am damned.  I need You, but I feel so far from You God. I'm so confused. I hate myself.  I am such a disappointment to You and my family.  I just don't know what to do.  Please help me God!

Then I hear footsteps coming from further up the path - I am instantly filled with panic and fear.  I duck down and hide. Much to my thankfulness, the passing Campus Security Officer takes the sidewalk around the area I am in rather than through, and he does not notice me.  I am filled with relief then with grief.  Maybe I should have said something to him.  Maybe he could help me.  Maybe I do need to go to a mental hospital for a while.  Oh, but that is so scary!  What if they keep me?  What if they make me do things I don't want to do?  What if it really is like Girl Interrupted?

With these panicky thoughts, I realize it is time to be on the move.  I get up and begin my walk again.  I cross the street and walk toward the cafeteria.  I get courage once more.  Okay God, maybe You sent that Campus Security Officer to help me.  I'll sit in front of the cafeteria.  This time, if You send someone, I will ask for help.  I then went to one of the benches in front of the cafeteria, close to the road and sit down.  I cry again.  It seems to be the one thing I am good at lately. 

Suddenly I notice a Campus Security vehicle stopping in front of me.  The passenger window rolls down, and a curly haired woman calls out to me.  "Are you okay?"

I panic again, and am not sure what to say.  This time I cannot hide, but that is exactly what I want to do.  I want to run and hide.  I want to disappear.  "I'm fine."  I reply.  Fine, what? You're fine?  This is your chance!  She seems nice.  Tell her you need help!

The Campus Security Officer is not willing to accept "I'm fine."  She parks her SUV along the side of the road and comes to sit beside me on the bench.  "You aren't dressed for this whether.  Aren't you cold sweetie?"

I am still in panic mode, and no amount of sweetness from this nice lady seems to release me from my desire to escape.  Say whatever you have to say to make her go away!  "It's not so bad.  I am hot natured."

The nice officer nods her head and smiles.  "So what brings you out here at this time of night?  Did you have a fight with your roommate or something?"

Ah there, yes, an excuse.  I don't have a roommate but she doesn't know that.  "Yeah.  I just needed to get out for a little while." 

"Would you like to ride around with me for a while and talk about it?" she asks caringly.

"I'll be okay.  I think I can go back now and go to sleep.  Thank you anyway."  I say, hoping she will buy my lies and leave me alone.

"Are you sure sweetie?  I really don't mind if you need someone to talk to.  Are you sure you will be okay?" she asks one last time.

I fight back tears, trying to look confident, and trying desperately to hide the panic I am feeling inside.  "Yes, I'll be okay.  Thank you." 

I watch as she gets in her vehicle and leaves, and I walk back to the dorm.  The sun is rising now. I enter my dorm room exhausted, and finally the exhaustion has quieted all the racing thoughts and obsessions so I can fall into a deep sleep.  I have made it through another night. 

©2006 Monica Kennedy All rights reserved

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