Dear Blogger friends,
I admit it here, on my blog, that I tried to commit suicide not once, but twice. Why did I try? What were the reasons? Today I look back at those moments….and pen down this letter to you all.
I was an unwanted, girl child. My Amma, desperately wanted a boy and there I was, a healthy 3kg baby girl, with cute black eyes and a cherubic smile. I wonder if she ever had feelings for me. She refused to feed me and even sent me to my grandparents place. After 5 years, my Appa brought me to Mumbai for schooling. Amma never spoke to me; all I got was physical, emotional and verbal abuse. I failed to understand this behavior of Amma. I wept, threw tantrums and at times even felt like running away from the house.
Maybe it was Karma or maybe Amma’s destiny; she left this world, when I was 9 years old. Life changed, my relationship with my elder sister changed. She was now a friend, mother and a mentor. The fights at school, the masti, the growing up fears, my dreams, I shared everything and much more with her. Then after two years, my Step-mom, (Chitthi I called her fondly), entered my life. A true blessing she was for our family. Words cannot express my gratitude towards her.
Things were going perfectly fine, or I thought so. Deep inside, the hurt refused to go. No matter how much I was cared for, I missed the love and acceptance of my Amma. These feelings kept multiplying and they exploded, when my sister’s marriage was fixed. The mere thought that she would leave me and go, made me possessive. I started throwing tantrums, like a two-year old. I was completely out of control and, I tried to cut my wrist with a knife. I remember, Appa slapped me and even said I had gone crazy. His words still echo at times, ‘Useless, shameless girl’, huh! Appa took me to a doctor, he said, these were symptoms of Hysteria. He gave some tablets and asked me take rest.
After few days, I became normal, the aggressiveness subsided; however it still hurt me emotionally. Letting go of my sister, was something, which I couldn’t do. Months passed and sister got married. How I wished I could speak to her on phone, however, those days, there were no mobile phones and the international call rates were very high.
I still remember, it was the month of December, Appa and my Chitti had gone to temple. I was 19 years old and all I wanted was to go away from everything and everybody. The feelings of loneliness encompassed me, it was something very strange. I wanted to end it all…the red duppata on the cloth line was inviting me…I grabbed it and tied it to the fan. I tied a knot on my neck and I stood on the brown stool…and pushed it…I choked…it was painful…and just my sister’s face flashed in front of me. My friends who believed in me, who loved me, my teachers who had high hopes from me, I thought of all of them, at that moment. Tears started flowing, as I tried to untie the knot…it took time, however I was successful.
Depression, anxiety, loneliness, abuse, these are all like passing dark clouds. At that age, I didn’t have that maturity to understand this, nor did I have a strong support system. There are many out there brought up in broken homes, who feel left out and unwanted and such people either become resilient or extremely emotional. Most of the times, it’s just the loneliness and hurt that keeps building in and then comes a point, wherein you feel the only way to end the pain is to end this life.
At times all one needs is…
An affectionate hug,
A little trust,
A patient ear,
A caring word,
A loving heart!
Today, after 10 years, I laugh at the thought of suicide. I believe that this LIFE is a wonderful gift and no matter what the circumstances, we need to keep moving. And if you feel emotionally low, speak up, make new friends, get over your past and make a new way.
Finally, it’s not about how many times you fall; it’s about how many times you manage to get up!
Love and blessings,