The day I stopped loving myself

The night was still. It was quiet except for the sound of my own breathing. The rope was around my neck. I let it caress my neck and it tightened into a loop. I wanted to die by asphyxiation, suffocating myself to death. They say right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. It is true. At the age of seventeen, my whole life flashed before my eyes. It wasn’t my entire life from childhood to present but the thing that mattered most to me. I guess I never knew how important that matter was in my young mind until that very day. Right before I tried to kill myself, images of my family started flashing in my mind. And I felt this deep, intense love inside my heart. A love that was stronger than the desire to end my life at that very moment. I thought of my family, especially my mother, the one I was closest to. I couldn’t let go of them even though I had decided to let go of my own life. There was this heaviness in my heart, making me not wanting to leave them. I thought I wanted to leave this world behind. But I didn’t want to leave them behind. I couldn’t.

I took my head out of the loop and started gasping for air. Then I burst into tears. I never cried so hard in my life. I cried until my nose become blocked and started to run with secretions. I cried until I couldn’t see from all the tears. I cried till there was a puddle of water on the pillow. I stifled my cries with the pillow so my sleeping family members would not hear. I cried until exhaustion kicked in and fell into sleep.

I woke up to the bright morning sun the next day. Like the rays of sunshine penetrating my room, I felt that my life has changed and I wanted to start anew. I pretended nothing was wrong. I thought my eyes were puffy but I didn’t think my parents noticed. I haven’t eaten for days and my parents were just glad I was going to the kitchen for some breakfast. I had been depressed for months but the past few days have been the lowest point in my life, before spiraling into the night of my suicidal attempt. I became as dark as the December storm, unlike my usual sunny self.

Last night, after my suicide attempt, I realized that there was more to life. I need to be more responsible to myself and the people around me. Dying will not solve the problem. Most importantly, I love my father, mother, brother and sister too much to leave them. I finished my breakfast alone, quietly. I was starving, from my many days of self-imposed ‘fasting’.

I heard a sound as I went upstairs to my bedroom. I started running to my room as fast as I can. “No, NO, NO,” I screamed inside my head as thoughts went through my mind. I did not lock the door and someone must have went in and saw something they should not see.

It was mom. She was crying uncontrollably. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were red. She looked at me and asked, “WHY? WHY?”

When I saw her cried, I started crying too. I felt defeated and just sank to the ground. My knees turned weak. She had searched through my room as I was having breakfast in the kitchen. I should’ve locked the room. I thought I hid everything. How could I be so careless?

She found my suicide notes hidden under the mattress. She just asked why and kept crying. I cried too. I saw the anger in her eyes. I saw the disappointment in her eyes. I saw the sadness in her eyes. I didn’t know what to say. I disappointed her as her favourite child. I was the strongest in her eyes. The brightest one. And yet, now, I felt like I am the most worthless.

I felt helpless as I continued to look at her crying. Seeing your mother cry while discovering your darkest secret will break even the strongest heart. She discovered and read all the little pieces of suicide notes I left for them had I successfully killed myself last night.

Both my mom and I could barely speak as our voices were choked by tears and emotions. Time seemed to stopped and we just stood there crying, and looking at each other. I hugged her and told her I am sorry. Told her that I love her. She hugged me back, still crying, but did not say anything.

Until this day, my mom doesn’t quite know the reason I attempted suicide. She thought I was broken hearted over breaking up with a girl. We never talked about this dark day that happened in our lives. It was something we try to avoid. My suicide attempt occurred during Chinese New Year. For the next few years, Chinese New Year was never the same again. Sometimes, when I am alone with her, she would casually bring this up and ask me what happened that day without specifically pointing to the incident. We both knew which event she was referring to but I always brushed it off and changed the subject. When she sensed a change in emotion, with the air suddenly tensed, she would stop pursuing the matter, and become quiet.

The real reason I wanted to die was because I could not accept my own sexuality. Sometimes, you know about it all your life, since childhood. But at 17, reality suddenly hits and I understand how being different is not a good thing. My mother would never accept me for who I am. Society would not accept people like me. I thought I was a freak. A mistake of God. I was abnormal. I had perverted desires. I had no reason to live on this earth as a freak. I took some time to accept myself. Thanks to the resources from the Internet on sexuality and my ex, whom I eventually found love. I thought I was going to be happy again. Little did I know, accepting my sexuality was only the beginning of a journey. One that would not be easy.