Pieces
By: Mason Sigmon
Tags: Life Lessons, Suicide Prevention, This Happened To Me, Love, Hope

On June 27, 2016 my depression had finally made me crack. Every single thought in my head at that point was filled with nothing but desperation and hopelessness. I felt like no matter what I tried to do. I was always gonna be broken. Nothing special just your average shattered fragments of glass found on a sidewalk getting constantly stomped on by anyone. I couldn’t confide into my family because they were never there for me and I didn’t feel like my friends could help me. The days that led up to June 27 left me feeling empty. I was hollowed out. If I tried to fill myself with anything it just fell out of me. I was a broken glass that couldn’t hold its liquid. No being half full or half empty either, I just wanted to be dead. I didn’t want to take any more medicine because they weren’t helping me and I was too scared about going to get hospitalized. Which brings me back to one of the darkest days of my life. June 27, 2016. I decided to finally stop everything. I was tired of being broken, feeling empty, and not being able to feel whole or alive anymore. So I did what any other “sensible” person would and grabbed a bottle of pills and my journal. A full bottle of ibuprofen to be specific (don’t know why I chose pills, but I didn’t want someone to find at the end of the rope with my eyes bugged out or worse. Plus I’m not good at tying knots). There were a mix of pills in the bottle ranging from mostly 20o milligrams to some milligrams that I wasn’t familiar with, but at this point I wasn’t picky. I got in my car and drove down to a park so that I could watch the sunset one last time. It was around 6 p.m. when I got down to the park. I was supposed to be at my small group but I didn’t make it. When no one heard me, all my friends got worried and started calling me. I just kept ignoring their calls. Talking to them would have just hurt them a lot more than it could hurt me at that point. I grabbed my journal and tried to scribble out a suicide note that could sum up how sorry I was for leaving my friends behind and all the things that I would miss out on with them. I read it but I still wasn’t satisfied with it. Not because of writing mistakes but because of all the things that were gonna be left unsaid to the people that I cared about. No matter how many pages I wrote out whether it be 5 to 50 it still wouldn’t be enough. Too bad I didn’t realize that at the time. After I wrote out my goodbyes, I tried to do it. I took a couple of pills and put them in my mouth and tried to swallow them but it didn’t work. I ended up spitting them out and just kept crying. I kept trying and trying but just ended up spitting the pills out. I sat there staring off in the distance listening to the music I had on and thought about what I should do next. I ended up texting my friend who had been wanting me for months to check myself into a hospital. I finally broke down and told him I would go. We talked and met up where our small group got together earlier. He took over driving for the rest of the night and took my car to his house to swap out for his car. When we got back to his house I was scared shaking and everything else between. No matter what though, he stuck it out with me. Through the car ride, sitting with me for hours while I was waiting to be admitted, and even dealt with my overbearing parents for me. I ended up spending five days in the hospital I was admitted into. I can’t say that spending those days in there have cured me because they didn’t, but it did help me get some more perspective in life. It made me realize what I had like all the people who was there for me no matter what, that my relationship with God is growing deeper and that I needed to trust in his plan for me. So I guess the bigger question is why the hell am I writing this? Is this person doing it for attention or is he trying to force God on me? Well no and no. And this is going to be a cliche but indulge me for someone who tried to off himself just 4 months ago. I’m going to try and document my life by writing as much as I can. Most importantly I’m hoping that people whoever are running out of options and can’t feel like going on anymore will read this. THERE. IS. HOPE. I know you feel broken, shattered, and that there is nothing to be mended, but there is. Underneath all that depression and hopelessness there is a person who wants to enjoy life and be alive. Killing yourself doesn’t fix anything, in fact it causes more hurt than it stops. In order to be that person you want to be, you have to make the first step. Call the suicide prevention hotline if you feel like you can’t keep yourself safe (1–800–273–8255) and they can connect you with resources to help you. They are very nice people and will help you in any way they can. You are not alone. You are not broken. You can be mended and there is plenty of pieces left to add. I’m reminded of a bible verse that my friend told me the other day that I hope you can get something out of even if you believe in God or not. Isaiah 64 verse 8 says “Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Things are happening in your life that you don’t understand but they are gonna happen no matter what and they going to shape you into the person you’re made to be. You can’t prevent them, but there is help and hope.