I really wasn’t ok, but I wanted to give the perception that I was.
In fact, I was scrolling through Google deciding which “how to commit suicide” link I wanted to click on. I was searching for a sure way to cement my attempted overdose. I did not want my stomach being pumped and risk possibly coming back to life. That’s NOT how a suicide is supposed to work.
I had a 7-step plan.
- Family leaves for work…
- Take pills…
- Out for 7 hours…
- Family comes home…
- Calls ambulance…
- Its too late..
- I’d be gone.
I’d be free.
I didn’t have enough milligrams of pain killers in my medicine cabinet to get the job done. Some suicide plan I had. I started watching YouTube videos on suicide, and somehow stumbled on a video of this pastor talking about suicide —and something he said led me to text three friends… “Please pray for me. Don’t call me, don’t ask me questions. Just Pray.” SEND.
No! I didn’t receive salvation from a YouTube video — no hard feelings if you have. I was already a born-again, Bible-thumping Christian at this point…I’m embarrassed to admit that. Yet, I was at my wits end with the pain that this life had brought me. I felt like God had really tried me. “After all I had done for you God, this is what you have for me?” I was not in the “Job state of mind”… I was not going to trust this man who was slaying me.
I opted for suicide as an option for peace. I was desperate for anything that would make this pain go away… and for sure, if I had no pulse… then I would feel no pain.
The first step to my recovery – I closed my Facebook account.
It’s been 5 years and I am yet to reactivate my personal account.
This is not a Facebook bashing post…I’m simply sharing the effects of how I used it.
I was using the “likes and comments” to massage my rejection. I needed to know that someone still thought that I was worth a “thumbs up.”
He had just broken my heart and my Facebook world was watching.
Don’t let them see you sweat, right?
I was having nightmares of the pain and waking up with my face wet… crawling to the bathroom, only when I could feel pee beginning to slide down the inside of my thighs… and on some days I only showered when my mom came home from work and dragged me into the tub (One time for all the mothers in the world!). Oh and eating? Forget it. I had absolutely no appetite — you could see the bones in my chest from all the weight loss. Oh but for the hair extensions that helped me look half way decent, my hair had become brittle and thin.
I was living this perversely double life. I was in pain and I didn’t want anyone to know it. Especially not my ex… and definitely not his new girl. So I made sure that my Facebook status always had a “catchy cool quote” and that my pictures were all of me smiling and having a good time. Because I knew he’d be checking my page… after all, I was stalking his… and hers too… and the pages of all his friends and family too. Vulnerabites, don’t look at me like that! I know I’m not the only Facebook stalker here.
I would comment on his friend’s pictures… because I wanted him to feel the sting that I was ‘still cool’ with his peeps.
Oh and YES… I was checking his Facebook messages too, because long ago he had given me his password, I wanted to know what he was telling people about our break up… or what chick was sliding into his inbox, now that the pictures of us were all down.
Ohh yyeeahhh— how could I forget the sting that came when he took down all the pictures of us. He kept them up after the break-up, and in my mind it was a glimmer of hope. So, when he took them down… I knew for sure it was over (because him saying it wasn’t enough…. The absence of us on Facebook was the “real” break-up)… and what did I do? I then proceeded to remove our pictures from my account as well… not because I wanted to, but because I wanted to pretend that I was over it too.
Oh you see… my Facebook life wasn’t a reflection of my reality…. Rather it was a reflection of what I wanted people to see. And quite frankly, it was getting hard to manage this perception that was in total conflict with my reality.
So I closed my Facebook acoount.
As I’ve returned to social media 5 years later (for my blog – y’all better connect with me and bring a friend with you…lol), I’m running into memories of why I closed my accounts to begin with.
I see some of my friends in the shadows of that life I lived. Their social media pages are not an accurate reflection of their conversations with me.
But do I really want that though? Do I want my friend spilling her rejection and broken heart in a Facebook status?
I don’t know.
As much as I want to see an honest reflection of someone’s life when I scroll through their social media… I don’t know how I feel about you posting a picture of yourself at the hospital with an IV in your arm… I mean, how about you just be present to the doctors and nurses attending to you.
If you’re at the dentist about to get your teeth whitened…. Cool! Show me that.
I suffer from “when on Instagram, do what the Instagram-ers do!” Yep! I’m guilty… I try to only post the aesthetically pleasing pictures from my camera roll!
I think I’m challenged with sharing this “process” called life… and not just the highlight reels.
How will the next heart broken girl attempting to take her life know that someone else in the world is hurting too…or that “I’ve been there baby, you are going to get through this.”
So, Vulnerabites… how do we even begin to share life outside of our highlight reels?
I don’t have an answer. I’m interested in what ideas you might have.
The Naked Writer
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