Saving My Life

Slice, the blood dripping off my fingers in sync with the tear rolling down my face. Slice, another incision, this one deeper than the last. The pain inside me lessened. Slice, memories started to flash before my eyes. Pop, the pill bottle opened. Gulp. the world, the pain, and my life faded from existence.

It has been two years since my last suicide attempt. I have twenty-four visible scars, as well as countless emotional scars. I have been to a psych ward twice. I have been in counseling since I was in seventh grade. So to say no one tried to help me would be false. To say no one cared would also be false. To say I did not want help, and that I did not care would be true. I wanted to die, no, I needed to die. I was a waste of space and only caused problems. The only way I and everyone could be happy was if I were dead. I could not handle the pain anymore, the only release I had was on the edge of a razor blade, and that somehow was wrong. The one thing that made me feel better was somehow making things worse. The faces of those who seen my cuts would make me hate myself even more. I was sick, but not in the sense of, if I took an antibiotic I would be cured. Oh, how I wished it would be that easy.

Five years is how long it took me to care about my life. I look back and wish the me now could go back and tell myself, "Jena, none of this matters. You are loved and your mother would die inside if something happened to you. The scars will never go away but it is evidence of your survival. When people see your scars, yes they will judge you, but if they actually care to take notice they will see they are fading, that you were stronger than that need for release. Yes, you need to go to counseling and stay on your medication. Yes it will be hard, and you will possibly have relapses. I am not going to say it was easy because it was not. I cannot say that it gets better, because it did not, I did. It was me that decided to make it better. I cannot lie to you and say that I do not think about how easy it would be to just end my life. But I also think about how easy it would be for my mother, brothers and sisters, friends, Pat, and my teachers to get over my death? Would they think it was their fault? Would that cause one of them to follow the same path? Taking my life would be easiest, but I have never been the one to take the easy road, so I guess that is why I am still alive today. All I can really tell you  is; you have to look inside yourself and find a reason to stay strong, whether it is for something you love or for yourself. Because what I have found out is that ultimately I saved myself. And you can too"

Generous Strangers

I used to believe that people did not just do things because it was the right thing to do, that there was always an ulterior motive. I had a very pessimistic view of the world and the people around me. I was so caught up with seeing the bad in the world to notice the good. I was like this until a year and a half ago when my best friend and I were left in Phoenix by a 'friend'. I was left with my friend Pat at the mall and el Pollo Loco for over seven hours, and after fruitless attempts at calling her we decided to find a bus route to one of Pat's friends house. When we arrived at the bus station it was just us, a family of five carrying groceries, and a couple of other travelers. Pat and I tried to figure out how to read the bus route but due to the fact that we are from a small town that doesn't have buses we didn't know how to read them. I asked the father of the family of five when the next train to where we were going would be and how much it would all cost. He informed us that it would be coming soon and that we would actually have to take two buses and the total cost of the trip would be fifteen dollars. I pulled Pat aside to discuss our financial situation and what we were going to do. We didn't have enough to make it and my 'friend' was not answering her phone. The bus that was headed to our  destination pulled up and I felt a tap on my shoulder, it was the father of the family handing us ten dollars to pay for our bus fair. It was this action that gave me a little more faith in the world. It changed something in me that day to be a better more helpful and optimistic person. If this father could try and help me when it is also very clear he is struggling is well, what could I do for others? I would like to have a moment to thank this generous stranger for showing me that not every situation is all bad and restoring my faith in people.