Overcomer: Suicide, Depression, and Schizophrenia
I can’t believe I’m sharing this. I’m a very private person. I have always said that people wouldn’t be able to handle certain things about my past, at the same time, I pray for God to allow me to be bolder to share my story. Funny I know lol, don’t judge me. When people see me they would never think that they would be encountering someone that battled with suicidal thoughts, depression and Schizophrenia. Well, here is some of my story. I pray in sharing this, you will not only see what God has done for me, but be encouraged that he will do the same for you.
Can you imagine waking up in the middle of the night with scissors to your throat? Yeah, my sister couldn’t either…
Can you imagine going to check on your young daughter only to find her on the bathroom floor, blue in the face from inhaling fumes from cleaning products? Neither could my mother.
Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I held the scissors to my sister’s throat, simply because the voices told me to. I look back and laugh now, but then, it was so real. I struggled most of my life with suppressing things. Not knowing that suppressing these things that I endured would result in me trying to take my own life. That I would spend most of my life bound to the things I kept a secret. I kept them a secret because I felt as if I revealed these things that I would be seen as dirty. That it would make me even more unlovable and even more worthless. How could someone love a person that hears voices, right? There was a time in my life when my mother and father decided to call it quits. I blamed myself for their divorce, although I knew the real reasons. Crying for my father and him not being there did something to me as a young child. My sister would tell me, “He’s not coming to get you,” and that didn’t make it any easier. My tears would soon turn to anger. I felt rejected and abandoned. I began to isolate myself from my family. In the isolation, you can imagine the conversations I began to have with myself.
I was like 9 or 10 around this time. My sister and I never got along. I always describe our relationship as oil and water. We were always at each other throats. On this particular day I was over it. I wanted her dead so I didn’t have to deal with her anymore. Over time, voices started telling me to kill her, so I listened. We lived with my grandmother at the time and she worked a grave yard shift. When she left we slept on the couch in the living room. I found the scissors that I hid earlier that day and watched my sister sleep. I stood over her, put the scissors to her throat, and she woke up. We stared at each other for a while. Needless to say that she is still alive, after that I was in therapy, and heavily medicated. I never knew what the medication was, or what it was for, I just knew that I hated the way it made me feel. Over time, I made a decision to stop taking the it. At that age, I knew that I didn’t like the way I felt and I wasn’t going to live my life feeling that way every day. Ironically, when I stopped taking the medicine, the voices stopped. It wasn’t until I was like 19 or 20 that I found out that had been I diagnosed with Schizophrenia at such an early age. I was at church, and while giving her testimony, my mother spilled the beans that I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Imagine the look on my face and the conversation with my mother after that church service.
In the midst of the confusion I was touched inappropriately. It began small and though I knew it wasn’t right, I was still silent. He didn’t say not tell anyone nor did he threaten me. I just didn’t know what to do so I remained silent. I had just put mother through trying to kill my sister, my mom was then discovering that my sister is pregnant at age 12, all the while she dealing with no longer being with my father. I wasn’t going to add to her problems. So I held this in. I was crying on the inside and wanted to run and tell her everything, “Hey mom he’s hurting me, make him stop,” but I couldn’t. It went from molestation to rape. I’m wondering why this happening to me is? Praying to God to make it stop. My outlook on life changed. I no longer felt safe nor comfortable around anyone regardless if the person was male or female. My mother saw the changes and she asked what was wrong but I never said anything. I no longer felt safe with her either. I felt alone and worthless, like I was nothing. I was still going to therapy and couldn’t even tell them that I was being touched inappropriately. I just suppressed it and put in the back of mind becoming more withdrawn.
I didn’t believe I was beautiful.
Dr. Sharon Nesbitt came to our church for a program, she called me up and exposed my thoughts of suicide and told me that I was beautiful and to read Psalms 139:14 every day, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” My secret was out, and it came with questions and of course a watchful eye. My thought process still didn’t change though. I would tell myself that I would no longer be burden to anyone. No longer do I want to be a problem. No one will miss me. They will be happy that I am gone. I would tell myself no one loved me, not even God because he allowed these things to happen to me. I would tell myself that it was for the best and I would no longer have to deal with the pain, that I would no longer have to look at the person that would take away my innocence, that I would no longer have to feel unwanted by the person that was supposed to love me. These thoughts ran through my mind daily. I didn’t smile much, but little smile that I had was gone. I decided to never to smile again because when you don’t smile no one had a reason to ask you what is wrong because your demeanor was always the same. It became that’s just Tasha. She never smiles. I had a real RB face. I was tomboy si I made sure that no one would look at my body in desirable way. Then, one day I was like I want it to end.
My family is big so I had to be creative of how I was going to end it. There’s no such thing as space or privacy with a big family. We had chores. So when my mother gave the list of chores, I chose to do the bathroom. It was perfect because I had asthma. Everyone would know where I am and it would cause no one to come look for me anytime soon. I got every cleaning product in the house, poured it in the tub, the toilet, and the sink, locked myself in the bathroom and began to inhale the fumes. After a while, I heard my mother call my name, I didn’t respond. Then my siblings called and I didn’t respond. Someone came to the bathroom door calling my name and still no answer. They tried to get in and finally was able to get in. The look on my mother’s face when she saw me is a look that I will never forget. They lifted me and took me outside to get air. My face was discolored and my breathing was shallow. Some thought it was accident but my mother knew it wasn’t. I unsuccessfully attempted suicide several times after that to no avail.
I made it through high school and went off to college. Where I still isolated myself, still struggled with suicide and low self-esteem. My Mother would call and ask me how I was, and I would say I’m alive. I would tell her that every single day. She would say that’s a good thing isn’t it and I would tell her I guess depends on who’s asking. I was depressed, angry, and bitter.
As I look back over that time in my life I know it was the prayers of my mother that covered me. I grew up in the church and I knew the Lord but I was angry with Him. I couldn’t see that he was there with me through it all. He was the one protecting me from myself. He was the one that allowed me to cross paths with people that would help me through some of the most difficult times in my life. I went to church and was active in church, but I didn’t know God for myself. I only did it because that’s what I was taught and that was how I brought up. It wasn’t until I started seeking God for myself that things began to change. This process of healing didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t tell my mother that I molested/raped until I was 25 riding in the car. The smile you see now wasn’t always there. I tell people what you see now is a product of my growth. I tell people my story they have hard time believing that I thought I was ugly, unlovable, low self-esteem, and low self-worth. Truth is, I still battle with it, but the difference now Is that I can recognize it and I have friends that can too. I start declaring that I am exactly how God sees me. I am a daughter of the King. I am not my past. I am important. I am a world changer. I am brave and courageous. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am beautiful. I am called by God to do great things. I still quote Psalm 139:14. If you are struggled with anything that I mentioned, be encouraged things will get better. You are not alone. Find someone to talk to and/or go to therapy to work through it. Don’t allow things that you suppress become a hindrance. Live your best life you deserve it.
Here is the link and you should also follow his blog. He is an amazing writer. https://theeajyoung.wordpress.com/2018/05/16/mental-health-awareness-month-the-struggle-is-real-w-guest-blogger-tasha-young/