It’s time to get this out. I can feel it. Holding back would only hurt me. I’m not doing this expecting to help others, although maybe it will.
I must do this to help myself by speaking my truth, speaking from my knowledge, my experience.
Two very recent events have compelled me to share this: the suicide of Chris Cornell and the attempted suicide of someone very close to me. Two days ago I heard about my friend’s latest attempt, one of too many to count, and the next day I learned that Chris Cornell’s death was a suicide. Thankfully my friend is recovering in a hospital. He made it through. Again. Please pray for him.
My own experience with being suicidal came years ago around Thanksgiving. It was just after my divorce and during a time of extreme stress.
I remember lying in bed next to my youngest son (then 8). While he slept, I laid awake crying and thinking of ending my life.
I also remember going to my parent’s house for Thanksgiving and trying my best to fake it, to hide my deep depression and my impending decision.
I felt worthless and useless.
I’m not going to get into why I felt that way (honestly because that’s a whole bunch of pain I’m not ready to share). Rather, I want to tell you what it felt like and how I pulled myself out of it.
I need to make something clear: I’m not talking about just having thoughts of suicide. I had had those thoughts many, many times prior. No. I’m talking about stepping over the threshold to a place where the idea becomes solid, tangible and extremely seductive.
It was the seduction that surprised me. It was almost sexual.
The draw, the pull, was like being seduced by an evil woman putting herself out there to have sex with me…laying herself across a pedestal bed on plush red fabrics in a room so dark it felt thick.
I peeked into that room. I opened the door and crossed the threshold and I was hooked. I knew if I moved closer, and gave in, it would end terribly and that was precisely what drew me nearer.
I saw my own suicide as a beautifully wrapped gift. It was all mine for the taking and I would take it on Christmas.
And the planning. Oh the planning! I would take my time and enjoy every moment of the planning. I was ready to begin – to figure out how.
I’m not religious and never have been, but now I believe there’s a devil because he was present at this time. I could feel him. He was running the seduction. I never saw him but I knew I had entered his realm. I believe there is a rule: he could not affect me until I walked into that room. Once I was over that threshold I was fair game. And so it was.
The Devil gave me a sense of purpose, something to work on: my own suicide.
But, there was another part of me that held on to reason. I didn’t want to leave my son. No way. And the unbelievable pull of the seduction scared the reasoning part of me. Maybe it scared my heart too.
Then, in direct opposition to this suicidal play I began to have magical spiritual experiences.
One day, I was writing in my journal and these wonderfully loving words started flowing into my head. I wrote them as I heard them, things like: “You’re a wonderful person. We love you, Scott. People around you love you. You have so much to give. You are so talented,” and so on.
These were not the thoughts of a suicidal man. These were not my thoughts at all. I now know that I was channeling, or bringing in, the words of my spiritual guides. I believe we all have guides. You can call them what you want but they are real. Since then I’ve seen and heard many other’s guides as well as helpful loved ones who have passed. We all have help. On that day, I found mine.
I also was healed by little 3” high golden people. They looked like tiny animated statues. While I was meditating they came out of my arm and walked up to my chest and into my heart. Their leader was a woman. She explained that they were healing my heart.
These experiences were given to me because I asked for help. I had prayed and reached out to my friends.
Thankfully, the majority of my heart had remained in God’s realm.
Satan didn’t have much on God once things got rolling on the good side, the love side. After I told one friend about my suicidal thoughts, the others began contacting me and asking me to go have lunch, and dinner, and talk. They all helped to shine light into that thick dark room.
I called my therapist too. Upon his suggestion I saw him that same day. He talked about what I had to give to my loved ones and to the world. He helped restore a sense of purpose, a positive sense of purpose.
Most importantly, he referred to suicide as hurting myself.
The Devil never mentioned this in my suicidal seduction. In the dark room it would be all pleasure. No pain. But my therapist really got the point across:
I would have to hurt myself very, very badly to die.
That really shook me up, or rather shook me awake. It was like a slap in the face that broke the spell and so I continued to stay in close contact with my therapist and friends and I even told my mother. I was on the road to recovery.
Since then I have shared my experience with a select few and briefly mentioned it on my website, but this is the first time that I have shared in public.
I have stepped across the suicidal threshold and experienced its seduction. I’m grateful that I walked back out and chose to live. I can’t erase what I went through, so I choose to carry it with me; it’s part of who I am.
I will leave you with lyrics of a song I wrote about my suicidal period called Wishing Well.
Some things you shouldn’t see
Places you shouldn’t go
I need a mind rewind
I need not to know
I stopped wishing well
But I know
I stopped wishing well.