From most of the posts I have published about my junior year, you might get the idea that with me being on the Student Council and my first paying job that I was very happy during that period in my life. Well, I was, but that was also the darkest time in my existence, even to the point that I was seriously considering not existing anymore.
A lot of it had to do with the factors I write about on this blog on an almost daily basis. I just felt like a loser who could not get any respect from anybody, even though I was considered one of the top and most active students in school. I have to admit now that a lot of that perception is my fault, that when I was younger, I thought people liked me. All the truth just came to the surface when I was sixteen that nobody probably ever liked me, even going back to my time at Hermosa Elementary School. I even felt like the people I currently referred to as my friends couldn't stand me.
As, I've mentioned before, I had noticed over the course of the previous few years how no one really wanted to have anything to do with me. If I approached a group of people talking, they would all stop what they were doing once I arrived and sometimes disperse. I was constantly being picked on in class. And remember, I got to be on Student Council by default. If two more people from my class had gotten on the ballot, I probably wouldn't have gotten to serve.
Everything going through my head just got to be too much. It was so bad, I wanted to just go somewhere and scream my head off. (At this point in my life, I had never heard of primal scream therapy.) The bad thing was that I was so involved in Student Council, Choir, Drama, Law Enforcement Explorers and my job that I just couldn't find time to do that. However, I did find an opportunity during an evening choir rehearsal for "Bye Bye Birdie."
In the main lobby of the auditorium was a room that had some folding chairs and tables. At a point during practice in which I knew I would not be needed for a long period of time, I went to that room. The lobby area was kept dark at night, so everyone pretty much stayed out. I had so many emotions bottled up inside and I was ready to let them all out. I went into the room, closed the door and sat down I WAILED for a solid 10 minutes. I thought about how terribly everyone treated me and felt like this torment would haunt me my entire life. I thought it would never end.
Even though I took precautions to do this in complete privacy, there was a part of me that hoped that someone would hear me and come see what was going on. That didn't happen. I was surprised to find that I was all cried out after 10 minutes. I thought I would be blasting my emotions all over the place for at least an hour. I even tried to force myself to cry and scream some more, but it just didn't happen.
I actually did not feel better after this. I still wanted to take my own life. Something that just popped up in Artesia that year was a suicide prevention hotline. However, they didn't call it that. But if you needed help going through something in your life, you called this number. One Saturday, when I was home alone, I decided to call that number. I told the person I needed to talk to someone about some bad stuff that was going on in my life. They gave me another number to call and told me who to ask for. I called the second number. A woman picked up the phone. I asked for the person I was referred to, who was male. She asked who was calling. I told her I didn't want to give my name. She said (in a sing-songy voice) that if I didn't give my name, I wasn't going to talk to anyone. I told her I thought I could remain anonymous on this call. I think she suddenly realized I was referred by the suicide prevention hotline and went to get the person I asked for.
The man got on the phone and he was rather soft-spoken, almost like a pastor. I never mentioned that I wanted to kill myself. I just told him that it seemed like I was having a hard time in life and that no one liked me and it made things very hard to get through the day. I told him things were fine at home (which they were, compared to what was going on at school). He just said some general stuff. I probably left enough clues for him to figure out who I was. Among other things, I mentioned I was one of the top students at school. I actually don't remember a thing he said. I know I was hoping he was going to ask if I was going to do myself in, but that topic never came up on his end.
I still did not feel any better. I felt like everything seemed to indicate that I just needed to bring it all to an end, that there was just no point in continuing to live a life in pain when it seemed like no one actually wanted me around. I knew that suicide was my only option. I knew it was wrong and I knew it would hurt my parents, but this was the only way I could think of to make it end.
I made elaborate plans for my suicide. I planned to get access to the auditorium during lunch. I would set up the lighting system to shine on my corpse swing from a noose on one of the tiers hanging from the ceiling. (I came across a rope that someone had tied into a noose. I felt like this was another sign the universe was giving me to kill myself.) The day before I planned to do this, I was in Drama class. I got a paper towel, folded it and put it in one of the side lobby doors so that it wouldn't close all the way or latch. I could just pull the door open to get inside.
The morning classes were very painful to get through. I couldn't concentrate on anything that was going on. I just knew in a few hours, it would be over and done with.
Lunch came. I didn't eat anything. I just started walking toward the auditorium. It was about a quarter-mile away from the main high school campus. I was walking by the old swimming pool with my head down. Suddenly, I heard, "Hi, Fayd!" I looked up. It was Roz. I said, "Hi," and kept walking. She also kept walking. This started making me think that I saw her like a vision of my life flashing before my eyes. I started thinking that she probably wouldn't care if I killed myself. I started thinking that people might be a little surprised and saddened about me no longer being around, but after awhile, they would quit caring and forget all about me.
I started thinking about how my life would end and theirs would continue like nothing had ever happened. I was close to crossing the street to get to the auditorium. I started thinking about how I didn't want to be this "nothing" that "ever happened." I figured that it really wouldn't do me much good to die, because eventually, everybody's memory of me would die as well, and probably a lot sooner than I would expect. They would forget the pain they showered me with. They would forget that they might have had something to do with it.
All of this bounced around my brain before I crossed the street. I figured that dying would definitely mean the end of me as I hadn't really done anything to leave my mark. Everybody else would still get that shot.
The need for the opportunity to prove that I was someone is what appears to have saved me from the brink. It wasn't talking things out with my friends or family. It wasn't going over what was bothering me with the suicide prevention hotline. It wasn't discussing things with a therapist. It was something I had to do myself, the only person I found I could really rely on. I've found that is my most reliable resource, and if it ever disappears, I am likely to do so as well.
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