Trigger warning: This entry contains an attempt of suicide and suicidal topics.
The sun shined through the leaves of giant trees I used to hang out under with friends during my teenage years. I laid on a slide in the park.. Vision blurring, mind spinning, trying to control my breath. I was the highest I had ever been. Besides that one time an older dude laced a blunt I smoked with “friends” in the 9th grade. Freshman year wasn’t too far in the past though. It was 2007, I was only nineteen and I had a six month old baby. And I just tried to commit suicide with the left over pain pills I received after an emergency c-section delivering him. My sister’s best friend walked with me from my house in San Leandro to the Oakland Hills right above 580. I remember it being such a beautiful day. I was ready for it to be my last.
Life had changed so much from the year before, I was a former homecoming court cheerleading captain with an infant and married to a controlling alcoholic. I had no idea what I wanted to do after high school. After being shot down to attend fashion school by my mother, I took a year off and got a barista job (my first job). I only had the job for one month before getting pregnant for the very first time. While coaching cheerleading for fun at my former school I ended up getting fired by the hating ass head coach. My students were devastated, but we all knew it was because I was hiding my pregnancy. I was crushed.
Almost 20 years later, I can’t recall what triggered my suicide attempt..
Maybe it was because when I would get home from work my infant would be missing with his father which sent me into a panic attack?
Maybe it was my prenatal doctor who treated me & my son’s father like shit during every appointment?
Maybe it was because no one thought to get me support after enduring 48 hours of labor that resulted in an emergency c-section?
Maybe it was because I had little to no breastfeeding support?
Maybe it was because I was broke and on every imaginable assistance I could get as the only parent in the marriage that was employed & providing?
Maybe it was because I was forced into a marriage because I’d receive no help with my son otherwise?
Who knows. But I was tired. I am still tired. Suicide had been on my mind since I was 12 years old. My mom’s brother was killed in a motorcycle accident in 2000 and it devastated me as my first major loss. I became a mother in 2006. Nobody got me help in 2000. All of the adults around me failed me. I was a troubled student with failing grades. I never applied myself. I was angry. And I took it out on everyone around me. Including my son.
*insert shameful tears*
I don’t remember how my household found out I overdosed. Is that what happened? I don’t know, but I took 12 pills in my childhood room. That I remember. I’m not sure if someone came to get us or we walked back. All I know is when we got to the house I was in trouble. My mother threatened to have me committed to John George. A threat I had heard at that point in my life many, many times before. It didn’t scare me anymore. What scared me was how sick I felt. I was unable to take care of my baby. If I moved a millimeter, I threw up. I kept a waste basket next to my bed all night. I couldn’t do anything and probably needed my stomach pumped. I felt like a complete failure. There was no healing done for a long time after this moment, there was no time. Unfortunately it wasn’t my only suicide attempt as a young mother with a small child.
My spirit was broken. As a teen mom you walk around with a scarlet letter A. All of the constant judgement. Dirty looks. Sad eyes filled with pity. I was a new wife who was baptized into a colonial religion on top of a forced marriage.. I was living in a nightmare, but I tried to make it work. That kind of hell was what I was taught love was. The new hellscape had me imprisoned though. Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t. I just wanted to take my baby and run.
And with my grandma’s blessing I did.
In 2008, I was getting ready for a huge Tahitan dance competition. I was the first toe on the floor on the San Jose State gym. Big pressure, bigger dreams fulfilled. I was at the dance studio all night prepping with my dance family. My husband accused me of partying all night with his relative. He held me hostage all night. Threatening to take all the tickets I bought for my family and myself for entrance. All my hard work, gone just like that. I did what I had to do to escape. I covered my bruised arms with makeup and danced on two hours of sleep. I cried to my grandma then gave the best performance of my life to her and my family.
I escaped the marriage within the next year. And then entered into the most abusive relationship for the next 8 years. I escaped that too.
Today, I want to live. Today, I want to love more. Today, I laugh loudly with a full belly. Before I turned 30, I calmed my breath. I grounded myself and my mind. I live for my children and thrive for their future. I started speaking up, with passion. I found the greatest love I’ve known. I hug and kiss my children every day. I apologized for the past & talked things through. I tell all my people I love them. I enjoy new experiences. I accept all my flowers. Not every day is easy. Sometimes my mind gets low, like the tide. Waves come and go, just gotta ride them all out. I am grateful to be here living such a beautiful life. And talking shit the whole way.
To those who are struggling, especially the young mamas - keep going. Chin up. Feel all of the emotions. They are yours <3 You belong here. Even in a society that isn’t built for us to succeed. Stay strong warrior.
-Selina