The Pain is too Much
TW: Suicide attempt
I’ve been struggling with getting my story out there. I get blocked and reported, and I have a general idea of whom it may be. The thing is this is God’s project. My story will be heard one way or the other, and I refuse to stay silent. No longer will I feel bad about calling people out for their mistakes. You knew. You knew, and you chose not to protect us. You chose a side, and cast me out, and that’s ok.
I want to talk about a particular event, but I am afraid of the emotions that will come from it. I know that it’s part of the process, but every time I remember, I go back to that place. I remember every bit of how I felt, and I don’t want to feel that again. Ever.
Recently I mentioned around the time I was in college. Continuing from there, I was almost finished with college. I was so excited, and so very proud of myself. I was the first one in my family to go to college. I was doing well in my studies, and I was starting to prepare for the police academy. Something I was so very passionate about. I began training myself physically. I would go for runs. I would try my best to get physically fit to be able to meet requirements.
I remember the local sheriff’s department was doing a hiring event, and I went to one to see if I could qualify to begin training with them. I was so prepared. I went. I was going through the physical tests. When it came time for me to run, I don’t know what happened, but all I could hear was my dad’s voice telling me I wasn’t good enough. That I wouldn’t make it. It was constant, I was trying so hard to push past that inner voice and tell myself that I could do this. I had to prove it to myself. I was beginning to get emotional. I was getting encouragement from the instructors, but it was just overwhelming.
All this self-doubt started pouring in, and I just couldn’t make the run. I went to my car and broke down. My dad was also calling me, and trying to encourage me, but it was only causing more stress. One of the instructors came over to check on me, I was doing pretty good, until the end. I told him I was going through some personal stuff. He told me I could come back and retake the exam. I just remember feeling completely devastated. My dream, my passion was getting farther and farther from my grip and everything I worked so hard for was falling apart around me. I was a failure. Self-doubt, extremely low self-confidence, I never believed anything anyone said good about me.
I was under so much stress that I lost so much weight over a period of time. I was in the hospital for severe stomach pains, I had appendicitis at sixteen, and had my appendix removed. The pain I was feeling with this was so much worse, I honestly thought I was dying. I couldn’t eat, could keep anything down, I was just sick almost all the time. I barely slept… I would eventually go to the hospital. My dad took me. He worked security there. Of course, everyone knew him. The ER nurses LOVED him. And of course he was buddies, and had respect from the police officers coming in and out…
My dad stayed in the ER room with me the entire time. I didn’t even have privacy while I changed into a gown. He stepped behind the curtain. I never was able to speak to the nurses and doctors about anything privately. My dad would mostly answer for me. My dad even took a selfie of him and I in the ER room. I was in so much pain, and I’m forcing a smile, for some reason. I was at least nineteen, I was an adult, I didn’t need him in the room with me, and even when I tried to mention to the nurse about speaking privately, my dad intervened… I was so sick. All they could tell me was that it was stress. There was nothing in my bloodwork, nothing on the ultrasound. I didn’t get to tell them WHY I was under so much stress… I was working overnight security at this time, and I remember having to change my uniform size so many times, that the smaller sizes were beginning to be too big for me.
I had just graduated college. I received an acceptance letter to another college, away from home, to work on my bachelors. My dad tore it up and threw it away. He said it was my ticket out. That all I wanted to do was experience college life, and drink and have sex… I was beyond angry, but I was also very devastated. I felt weak, there was no point arguing. I didn’t even get to see which college I was accepted to.
Like I said, I WAS preparing to go the police academy, and I was working overnight security. As well as part time at a convenience store. I loved this job so much. I would get the most random people in the middle of the night to buy cigarettes or a random cop checking in on us. I kind of miss that atmosphere. There was this one guy that would come in regularly. He would come in slightly drunk, but almost always in a kilt. He was funny, and cute, and a little older than me, but not by much. We became friends over time, and I would start to expect seeing him. He became someone I could trust. I did want to start dating him at one point and every time he asked me to hang out, I would mention that I needed permission from my dad first. He told me flat out, “you’re twenty years old, almost a college graduate, you are grown, you don’t need your dad’s permission for anything” And he said it in a way that was like a door opened, something said “he’s right”.
Our friendship continued, and then one night he comes into the store, I was cleaning something, so I didn’t look up at him when he came in, but I heard his voice, and we were chatting like normal. He gets ready to pay for his stuff, and when I looked up, it took me off guard. This friend I knew for some time now, was a cop! I said, “you’re a freaking cop?!” Out of pure shock and intrigue. He said, “does that bother you?” I was not bothered at all. I had gained a new kind of respect for him. He was flirty, and funny off duty, I never would have thought him to be a cop. heading to my secuity job one night, he was on break, and I was coming through the area he was patrolling, so I stopped for few minutes, and we chatted. I don’t know why, but he felt safe. I knew I could trust him. We did end up kissing. It was only once I think, but I remember feeling like I shouldn’t do this. He was a friend, who happened to be a cop… I didn’t know where I wanted to go with our friendship at the time.
A few months later I would graduate college. I ended up quitting the convenience store because I was in a mood about a younger employee being promoted over me. The reason for this, and I asked my boss why I didn’t get the opportunity to be promoted, and he said “well, we didn’t see the potential if you already have plans after college”. Nothing was written in stone, and yet again, I felt completely worthless, I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t have the potential. (Even though I could run that store with my eyes closed.)
I would eventually go full time at my security job. I loved it, and it had the potential for advancement, and several others had gone to the police academy after a while working for this company. I was hoping to be one of them. However, home life was still bad. This took place over two years maybe, from the convenience store, to graduating college, to my security job… again everything blurs together. I remember mostly because I worked this job during hurricane sandy. It was a rough night for a few hours, then we were all called inside and told to shelter in place basically.
I was so very depressed during this time. I didn’t want anyone to bother me, I didn’t care if I upset anyone or if I came off as a certain type of “female”. I was angry at the world; I was angry at my dad. The physical abuse was getting worse again, now that I was out of college, I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Work, and home, and my dad had a security job with another company, in the same area I worked. It’s like no matter what I did, I couldn’t get far enough away from him.
Lord Jesus, guide me through this. Keep me in the present Jesus, keep me focused and calm.
Remember I mentioned my dad bought me a handgun for my birthday? I kept it in my glovebox in my car. I had it mostly for safety going to my night classes, and of course working at the convenience store overnight… anyway.
I was in such a dark, dark place. I call it The Abyss. It was so deep, and so dark that I didn’t have any hope of ever getting out of it. I remember my dad beat me the night before work. I don’t remember what it was about, it could have been a continuance of the night he beat me because I called him “pathetic”…
God this is hard.
I was late to work this night because my dad called me and was cussing me out and just making feel horrible. I was so mentally tired. I was done with his accusations, and getting into these ridiculous, jealousy filled arguments with my dad. I remember, I was getting a new shift lead/dispatcher this night also. I was not making a great first impression. I showed up late, even though they had me carded at the gate fifteen minutes earlier. My eyes are swollen from crying, and I have a few marks on me still. My uniform is all kinds of too big for me, so I’m trying my best to keep it professional, and then the new lead is staring at me…
Now I’m angry, I turned around, and asked if he had a staring problem, then he introduced himself as the new lead… Great. Now I’m going to get fired for being insubordinate. I had such an attitude that night.
During the night, I walked a large campus of ten buildings. It was gated, so I was particularly safe, but I always thought of possibilities of my dad coming after me. This particular night, my dad would keep calling me. He’d cuss me out, make me feel horrible, that I was neglecting him, accuse me of sleeping around again, and I kind of shut down. I started to agree with him. I didn’t care what he was saying anymore.
I wouldn’t often have my lunch break in my car, but tonight I did. It was a decent night, cool and calm. The moon was beautiful. I went to my car, and just sat there. I was still very emotionally raw. I remembered my handgun in the glovebox, and I pulled it out. I stared at it for a bit. I removed the chambered bullet. I took the magazine out. I completely broke down my gun. I put it all back together. I loaded the mag and chambered the bullet. I did this again, at least twice more. I kept loading and unloading. I chambered and unchambered.
Finally, I fully loaded my gun, and held it to my temple. I was finished with life. I wanted everything to stop. I wanted it all to end. It wasn’t stopping. I was dying on the inside, and nobody noticed. I couldn’t continue on with this life, if this was how my dad was going to continue treating me. I was so tired of the blame. I was tired of the stress. I was tired of being my dad’s personal sex toy and punching bag. I was so sick of everything. I hated my life. I hated who I’d become. I hated that I had so much hate. I hurt so much, it felt like my heart was breaking, I was completely done.
I was thinking about how to shoot myself. I didn’t want the bullet to pass through something and hurt someone. I was in a parking lot, and alone, and it was about two thirty in the morning. I didn’t want to leave a mess, but I didn’t want to continue on. This would be quick; I wouldn’t feel it… I even put the barrel in my mouth but decided against it because of the possibility I might not do it right, I held the gun back to my temple, I screamed pure frustration. I was crying so hard. I don’t know why, but I turned on the radio. A Christian song was playing. I don’t remember which one, but I looked in the rearview mirror, with the gun still held to my head, and I caught a vision of my kid sister sitting in her car seat, singing the song that was on. It was something we did together, and it made me smile, then I cried even more.
I started thinking about, if I’m gone, who is going to protect her from our dad? Would he really turn on her? Then I started thinking about what kind of story and lies my dad would talk about why I killed myself. He would make it seem like there was absolutely no signs, or he would play it the complete opposite. I started getting angry at him for any future lies he would tell. I was furious at myself that I allowed someone to break me down so much that I was ready and willing to take my own life. I was in the abyss for so long, that I truly didn’t see a way out. I was beyond help, I thought. If I couldn’t get out now, I would never get out. I wanted to pull the trigger. I was ready. I closed my eyes and positioned myself. I think I left a note somewhere that said, “I just wanted it to stop”.
I made my decision, I was taught how to shoot, and one of the first things I learned was to never put your finger on the trigger unless you know you will pull it. I wanted to die.
Then, a calm came over me. I heard a still, small voice say, “Stop! Don’t! Hold on just a little but longer! Everything is going to be alright!!”
I heard it so clear. It wasn’t the radio. I remember hearing these same words a short time ago. I had to hold on. I was so sad, I screamed as hard and loud as I could to get all of those emotions out. I was so exhausted. I was angry, tired, heartbroken, and just beyond any hope. I unloaded my gun, and separated the magazine from it, and put it in the glove box. I was so lost. I remember feeling so drained, and so weak.
I had to go back to work, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone what I had almost done. I remember I stayed away from the main building where our dispatcher was for the rest of the night until morning. After my shift was over, I heard another Christian song on the radio, and it said, “There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning”. Every night I worked after that, when I started feeling the pull of the abyss again, I would look up at the night sky, see the beautiful moon, and then remember the lyrics. I would hold on to that for a little bit longer. I was depressed, but something else started to come over me. I was determined to live. To make a life for myself. To be better than what I was raised in. I saw a new beginning, and I didn’t realize how fast that would happen.
I’m ok. Lord thank you for getting me through that.
Father God, thank you for pulling me out of that darkness. I am so very grateful! ~Amen
I know it’s a bit scattered, but I’ve been holding this part in for a while. Its only by the Grace of God that I am alive. I have no doubt.
Mental Health and crisis Hotline. There is always hope! Don’t give up!
https://www.pa.gov/en/agencies/dhs/resources/mental-health-substance-use-disorder/988.html