My way out of Neverland.

{My story of suicide} :

I remember as a child I never wore shoes. If I could help it, I’d go bare footed every chance I got and suffer the consequences later – because the feeling of being shoeless gave me a kind of freedom I was willing to sacrifice soft spotless feet for.

I of course, conformed to the whole shoe idea going to school, simply because kids ask questions, and they are cruel. And I didn’t have time to explain. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be allowed in the classroom without them. Sanitary issues and all.

Anyway, I hated shoes.

I lived in an apartment complex growing up where there was a broken down playground nearby. Pine trees surrounded it leaving traces of pinecones and sap everywhere I stepped. At this point in my childhood, my feet could feel no pain. I had walked on just about anything. Pavement, rocks, pinecones, sand, grass, pointy grass, sap; you name it. I was a kid. And that kind of thing didn’t bother me. I just wanted to play and be adventurous and all that good stuff.

I always loved to climb trees. Oh yeah. I was cool. I climbed them so high I’m surprised I didn’t fall crashing down breaking my entire body. In fact, I’ve never broken a bone in my life. I’ve only fractured my ankle. And that’s another story.

I would pretend to be on a pirate ship at the top taking watch and looking for land and treasure and potential enemies.
Hook, with Robin Williams, was probably my favorite film, because I believed I belonged on a pirate ship sailing for Neverland. I was a believer. Totally.

Looking back at my childhood, there wasn’t much action being a child. I was dealing with the reality of divorce, and bullies, and sickness, and death – and all that crap. So escaping to Neverland was my best bet.

I’ve been watching Once Upon a Time on ABC and it’s brought back a lot of memories from my childhood. If there had been a group of Lost Girls, I’m sure I would have taken the first Pixie Dust trip on the High Way to Never Never Land.

I was certainly a lost girl. The kind of girl that felt out of place everywhere. I believed I had experienced a crap load of crap and that I was much more mature than most kids my age. But at the same time my age said otherwise. I was restricted from being a kid and an adult, so what did that leave? It left me lost. And confused. I was furious, because I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. It was difficult to be happy, because if I tried to be a kid with those my age I had to pretend or not tell the truth about my life. I would pretend I was just a normal kid and that my parents were still married, and my dad wasn’t gay, and pretend I didn’t hate going to church, and lie about my fantasy Neverland world I longed to go home and escape to.

I think that as we go through life, we come across the part of life where we feel so utterly lost that we believe there is no way of ever finding our way home. Or we have no idea what home is, and we try to create one of our own, but it usually fails because it’s created from fantasies and false realities.

Everyone’s story is different and we all have a completely different way of escaping how lost we feel. I think the time I felt so lost was from the time I was eight years old until I was 14. That’s a long time to be lost.

The only thing that got me out of that slump was realizing the value of life. I had to come close to losing it in order for me to wake the hell up and see beyond Neverland.

My experience at 14 helped me understand why some people commit suicide. But it also helped me realize why people fight to live.

I chose to live.

I thought it selfish of me to even think about it, after begging my mother to live when I was 12 years old, and to think 2 years later I tried to erase myself.

But I understand. I’m not one to judge those who do commit suicide, but I am a survivor and I know if I reach out to someone feeling that way – I could possibly save them, like I was saved.

I think I was different than most suicide provoked people. I didn’t completely think there was no way out. I hoped and prayed for a way out of my sadness, but I didn’t see a light. I didn’t know where the end of the tunnel was, but I knew there was one. But I know others who have felt such sadness they are dead set on believing there is truly no where else to go. This breaks my heart, to know people feel this way. But It’s just a part of life. And I think it makes us stronger in the end.

And if I can be a light at the end of the tunnel for somebody or if I have been, then I’m doing it right. I’m living my life the best way I can. I no longer have feelings of ending it. But I know that simply asking the question, “Are you suicidal?” Could help save a life, no matter how difficult it is to ask.

I was saved.

I was saved because someone reached out to me. Something reached out to me that made me want to live. I wanted to grow old. I wanted to grow up. I wanted to see what life was like. What life was like when I was in control. I’m so glad I did, it reassured me that I always wanted to live. I was looking for a way out of Neverland. And I found it.

Thanks for hearing me out.

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