Please Don't Tell Me I'm Not 'Truly Suicidal' When I Say I Am

Please, don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like to be “truly suicidal” when I tell you, “I’m suicidal.”

I may not know what it was like for you when you were suicidal, when you were on the brink and nothing anyone said or did could stop you. You are right. I don’t know what it was like, what it is like for you. Every story is unique. You are unique, and your story matters.

You are important.

Please remember: I am important, too.

Please, when I reach out to you for help, I am reaching out to you for help. When I say I am suicidal, I am suicidal. Please do not downplay my experience just because it is different than your own. I am unique. I am important. Please do not say I am not truly suicidal because I reach out for help before acting on the desires that constantly scream in my soul.

Guess what?

I’ve been on the brink. I’ve been in that place where there is nothing anyone can say or do to change my mind. I’ve made up my mind to the point where no one could stop me. I have kept my plans secret from everyone for fear of intervention. I’ve been in the moment of trying and regretted it as soon as I’ve acted. I’ve sat in silence and counted to 10, 500 times, hoping someone would give me a call or text. Hoping, maybe, I wasn’t such a terrible burden after all.

I have made many plans. I have attempted those plans.

Fate, divine intervention, poor planning… whatever you want to call it. That’s why I am still here.

I am still here. I have succeeded in living.

But you don’t know that part of my story, do you? You know me as I am right now. You know the me who says I have the desire to kill myself and the desire to stop it. You know the part of me who is reaching out for help. You know the part of me who, in reaching out, may look “attention-seeking,” like I’m asking for “too much,” like I am some symptom or disorder you diagnosed me with.

But when I say I’m suicidal, I’m suicidal.

I am terrified I will slip into the abyss of suicidal action one last time. Killing myself used to be all I wanted. It used to be what I thought would help everyone around me in the end. It is still on my mind as a “solution” to everyone’s problems. I think of suicide daily.

Please know it is taking all of me just to ask for help. I have lived my life independent of others, allowing others to do with me what they please. Not being OK has never been O with me. I hate being a burden and have become a master at hiding my needs.

I am learning differently. I am learning I matter. My needs matter.

It is OK to not be OK.

I’m not OK. Please help.

I am not asking for attention or pity parties. I am asking for help. I am not asking for you to fix it. I am not asking you to be my therapist. I am not asking you to be the police officer or healthcare provider who stops it. Please be a friend who tells me I can do this: I can live.

I am asking you to tell me I am worth living. Is that too much to ask?

I just need hope. I need a friend. Will you be my friend?