My Story: My Suicide Attempt

 

(Note: This is an excerpt from a memoir I am writing. Certain passages have been removed for brevity. Certain names have been changed to protect the identity of individuals.)

 

My sisters and I often headed out to the mall after school. One store we always went to was Waldenbooks. I remember how I’d walk into Waldenbooks with empty hands then walk out carrying a stack of books I bought. Well, it was at Waldenbooks where I met Jake. Jake worked at Waldenbooks and it wasn’t long before he caught my eye.

 

Unfortunately, I learned that Jake was 21 years older than me!

 

Still, my heart fell for him hard. We started talking on the phone for hours then we got to a point where I was often at his apartment. However, because of our age difference, Jake tried to keep things platonic. The problem was, neither of us could keep our hands off of each other, and at one point we almost went all the way. Jake, however, put a stop to things. He insisted that we just be friends. I was in love with him, though, and I wanted to lose my virginity to him. But that never happened. He just wanted friendship, insisting that he had been hurt too badly in the past for him to feel comfortable about getting into another relationship with anyone.

 

Although I was living on my own, my parents kept worrying that I was not safe. Even though my older sister and her husband lived next door to me, they figured that I was going to be attacked by someone in my sleep.

 

Unfortunately, that is exactly what ended up happening, but not in the way they thought it would happen.

 

My parents assumed I couldn’t handle living on my own (probably especially because I was DEAF??) so they sent Bruno (a family member who was already molesting me, which they did not know about) as protection. Well, he ended up coming into my bedroom while I was sleeping and raping me in my bed. I was 19. I still remember lying there in the dark, crying after it was over.

 

I should have known that not fighting him off when he was in the fondling stage was going to lead to this. But I didn’t. I stupidly thought that he was satisfied with just the touching but he wanted it all. And there had been no one there to stop him from getting it.

 

Even though the rape traumatized me, I tried to cope with it in any way I knew how. I was too ashamed to tell anyone and there was no way I was going to try to tell my parents. I eventually forced myself to see the rape in a positive light: I wasn’t a virgin anymore! Now maybe Jake would stop calling me a “little girl” and take my attempts to have a relationship seriously.

 

But when I told him that I lost my virginity, all he said was, “Welcome to the real world.”

 

I had seriously thought he would be okay with having a relationship with me now, but I was wrong. He still rejected me. Then one day, I discovered he had a woman living with him. I showed up at his apartment and there she was.

 

Later, I called Jake and told, “I’m going to let you go now.”

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

I never talked to him again after that. I was heartbroken and part of that pain threw me into a depressed state. I started drinking and just wishing I was dead. I thought I wasn’t worthy of anyone. I thought no one could love me, partly because of my burn scars. And the fact that the only person who wanted to be intimate with me was someone who forced it on me made me feel worse.

 

The drinking convinced me that no one could love me. That I was just meant to be somebody’s whore. I just gave up fighting. I just let Bruno have his way with me. I just didn’t fight him off any longer. I just didn’t care. At that point, the fondling stage was over; he was always going all the way with me and that carried on for some time.

 

But that part of my life was a very dark time. My drinking escalated and I was deeply depressed. I was a student at college, but I didn’t have any actual “friends.” I was friendly with my classmates and we all got along well, but we were not “friends” friends. We didn’t hang out and stuff – although one of them did make an effort to hang out with me sometimes but life just got too crazy-busy for her.

 

But because I didn’t have a social life and no boyfriend, I was convinced that nobody could love me. I was only good for having fun in bed. I kept pushing the relationship issue with the divorced dad and, in return, he kept saying, “I want us to be friends.” He didn’t want to be my boyfriend. He didn’t really want me; he just wanted to use me!

       

I felt trapped. I couldn’t tell Mom because I didn’t want to hurt her. Forget telling Dad; he’d turn it around and accuse me of leading Bruno on. I felt powerless to go to the police; I didn’t have any proof that I was raped.

 

I just felt like life wasn’t worth living anymore. I couldn’t stand the hell that I was in.

 

So one day, after yet another round of prolonged crying, I went to the kitchen grabbed a sharp knife from the knife block, and drove it over my right wrist.

 

That first slice didn’t produce any blood though. I cursed my stupid left hand that was weak and only had three fingers. It was USELESS to even slice my damn wrist!

 

So I tried again. And again. This time, I had to really push down for the blood to finally come.

 

Satisfied, I sat down at the table. And waited.

 

But nothing happened. I stayed conscious. I stayed alert.

 

In fact, I was soon too alert.

 

I stared at the blood slowly dribbling out of the cut on my wrist and realized something: I’m bleeding.

 

It was like seeing that blood was realizing that this was my life that was dripping away. One drop of blood at a time.

 

And then I realized something else: I wanted to live! I WAS NOT going to let my pain win. I was NOT going to let the hell I was in destroy me.

 

Back to present day...

 

Other hells I have been in have certainly tried to destroy me. But I am still here. I am still fighting. And I am also now seven years sober.

 

I would also like to add that, not too long after my failed attempt, one failure in my life which I am happy about, I did find someone who loved me in return. Who loved me for the person I was and saw beyond my burn scars. Who has fought for me, stood by me, and has constantly proven he wants me in his life. Over twenty years later, we are still together.