CW: Suicide

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I haven’t kept a blog in an incredibly long time. This is a routine I need to get back into, because catharsis is incredibly important for me. In fact, catharsis is crucial. There is a sense of vulnerability I know needs to be shown. I need to be more human. I need to feel more human.

I have been plagued by flashbacks. In one instance, they are often triggered by flashing lights from ambulances, police cars, and fire engines. In another, a video in which people were being rescued from situations where they were inches away from death left me crying hysterically. It’s because I’ve had a near death experience. I’ve been there. This is is a story which needs to be written not only for my own peace of mind, but for anybody who has ever been close to death. Specifically, it’s for those who put themselves in this position. It’s for those who have attempted suicide.

I spent a good year suffering from depression. All of the poetry I wrote was centred around how much I was hurting and how much I wanted to die. My room-mate at the time never understood the extent of my depression. My parents were oblivious, as they never detected that I couldn’t speak, concentrate, or even get out of bed.

The turning point was when my girlfriend and I got engaged and we were stressed to the nines. My moods were swinging back and forth while I was looking for a second job and trying to get medical insurance. The open mic I regularly went to at a café in Staten Island shut down and I had lost my ability to cope. It was on that stage where I proposed to her.

Two weeks later, it happened. I got into a fight with my parents and it led me to reach my breaking point. I walked out of my job and went to a bar. The drink I chose was a Long Island Iced Tea, which I chugged. I left and made a B line for the City Hall subway station. Soon after, I went down the stairs, swiped my MetroCard to pay the fare, and jumped onto the tracks with the R train in the distance. I was prepared to die, waving my arms as I was about to say goodbye. As the train got closer, someone pulled me out of this pit of rats, poison, and electricity. The rest was hazy, but I remember being put into an ambulance and heading to the psychiatric ward.

Maybe I will tell the rest of the story on another occasion. Long story short, I spent a month in the hospital and lost my friends. With my now ex-fiancée, it was a blessing and a curse. I am very much involved in my son’s life at this point, so I can shrug it off, as I am not as vulnerable on that front.

According to The Observer, 84 people died from train-related deaths between January and August of 2012. As I look at this statistic, I think of things I never thought of before I tried to kill myself. I didn’t think of how many people I would traumatise. I didn’t think of how I would have ripped apart the lives of my family. I didn’t think of the passengers or those waiting for the train. I didn’t think of a lot of things.

My aunt committed suicide by way of hanging. It destroyed my father when this happened. I’d go onto Facebook groups which cater to suicide survivors. It’s strange to be on both ends and to understand how suicide shattered lives. I have one request that I’ve been wanting to make for a while.

I want to meet the person who rescued me so I can thank him. This would be the ultimate solace. Sir — it is because of you that I am still standing here on this earth and because of you, I have seen what good life has to offer. To those reading this, please make this post viral, as I need to make peace and amends with this great man. It’s with great pleasure that I had a hero in him.

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