I came, I saw and I conquered…in my own minuscule way.
Lately there has been a lot of blogs on gay teen suicides in America. Am not sure whether there are statistics of these in Africa; if there is, please do share. http://www.soulforce.org/article/653
My babe has this theory about how the brain works. She says, when you think of one thing, your brain does an auto search just like Google and gives you all the alternative topics related to the subject. There will always be one alternative that stands out as most relevant and you will find your thoughts drifting to the strongest suggested topic. So, after reading so many blogs on suicides; my brain set itself to work and brought me closer home. I can relate to the stories in many ways but the end.
I remember being sent back home from school for the second time. This time, I didn’t know how I would face my parents. I was seventeen; quiet and shy in an outgoing way (am not sure if there’s anything like shy in an outgoing way). Let’s just say, I was outspoken, mostly to cover my shyness. I considered this a defense mechanism to keep prying people away. Anyways, I digress. Well, back to the story…I was home on a suspension from high school. This was the second time. A repeat offender, which makes my case very hard to defend to anyone even those that are considered objective. How would I face my mom (She was the disciplinarian for the family)? What would I say to make her believe am innocent? If I was in her shoes, I would not believe me either.
The longest hours I have ever faced were those five hours between the time I reached home and the time my mom was expected to come home from work. I tried to come up with all sorts of explanations in my head; while managing to look nonchalant about the whole issue in front of my fellow felons who had decided to pass time at my place while they procrastinated facing their own parents.
My mom did come home from work, and let’s just say it went well. She didn’t believe me, but she did not strangle me to death either; which is a good thing. What transpired after that was some sort of cold war. Neither of my parents was talking to me. I suddenly became the pariah at home. Things were happening around me like I did not exist. We are a big family, but I was the only one with my own room, my 6 siblings shared two rooms (Just incase you are wondering, am not the only girl in my family).
The first few weeks were the toughest…no…the week after the parent-teacher panel was the toughest. It was now clear that what was a suspension was now definitely an expulsion. The gravity of my crime was now +10 in my parent’s eyes. The silence mode intensified and I had a lot of time in my hands and a very idle mind with it. I was on my own, to do as I saw fit and my first though was to end my life. They did not deserve the pain and shame that I was putting them through.
I went to the nearest shop and bought enough Malaraquin dosage that could treat a whole household (…this I had been told was the most common way to go other than rat n rat). On the first day, I went downstairs to the kitchen…got a bottle of water and back up to my room…lined 16 white tablets on the dressing mirror, looked at myself with tear filled eyes, then back at the tablets for an hour…just seated their…with a pen and paper ready to write my last words to those that I love and had disappointed tremendously. But the thought of how bitter one pill is made me postponed my plan to the next day. I told myself, I will go buy some juice so that it won’t be that bitter. I did buy juice; went though the same routine again, lining up all my requirements on the dressing mirror and this time; my kid brother came home early from school and knocked on my door…he wanted to tell me how his day had gone…I took my stuff and hid them in the drawer. Tomorrow is another day, I thought…
This went on for a while, and I guess maybe I was a lot chicken to take my own life or maybe there is a greater power that thought my time was not yet here and sent all the interruptions; I do not know. All I do know is that; I made it through and now when I seat back and talk to my babe about it (she is the only person I have shared that part of my life with), I think it couldn’t have been that bad. But at that age, it was.
My reaction thereafter was to pretend none of that ever took place. I decided to shut it out; block that experience out of my life. I barely can remember much of what happened in between but am glad that now I have someone that I can share what I can remember with. She sometimes gets to fill in the blanks for me and am forever grateful for that.
Am sure there are so many of us out there who have gone and are going through this and there will be others who will go through the same thing.
For those who are going through the same thing, just remember one thing:
If it doesn’t break you, it only makes you stronger.
Dying may be a Solution but it is not THE SOLUTION.
Talk to somebody…sees below URL for a starting point:
http://galck.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=frontpage&Itemid=2
I am no expert but your can mail me at sweetppillows@gmail.com
Sweetp
