As all my posts state, my husband is forever awesome and loves me. My ex was not particularly supportive throughout my anorexia or depression. He was a boy, who only said he loved me and that I was his world. He was upset when I was diagnosed. He said “why am I not enough to make you happy?” “My love should be enough for you.” I was suicidal and said I don’t know if I want to live. The next day he gave me a pocket knife and said to hide it from my family. They had already taken away the locks on my door and were about to move me downstairs to keep a watchful eye on me… He was texting me and said get the knife I gave you and end it. Years later, he said he was sorry.
My life felt pointless, I wanted it all to come to an end.
The doctors were trying to help me, but it didn’t quite stop my own descend.
My issues were all internal and I did all I could to pretend.
I told my boyfriend of my problems, who I thought I could not offend.
His response was “but why… my love should be enough for you.”
As weeks went by, my depression grew and grew.
He decided to give me a knife and said you have to choose.
If I’m not enough to make you happy, maybe it’s best for you to lose.
It was late at night when I took the knife out and thought “You know… you can refuse”.
At that same moment, my phone made a noise… it was a message from you.
You told me “it’s time for you to actually follow through”.
As I let the blade dance on my skin, my parents burst into the room.
Throwing it onto the ground, they asked why I pushed myself to this doom.
I let them know it was you, who gave me the knife.
They were confused “why would he give you the tool to take away your own life?”
They never knew of our conversations of you instructing me to take it…
I don’t think this is something you’d ever actually come to admit.
All of the messages were deleted, after I was committed.
I did this voluntarily, I just did not feel sane.
My brain was exhausted and my emotions were on a chain.
You weren’t allowed to visit me and even wondered why.
It was because of the knife you gave me when you said that I should die.
Oh my goodness. I know all of these moments I am sharing are all dark and twisted… but I’m so proud of myself for all of these poems. It feels like constructive healing and a huge weight off my shoulders. I wasn’t expecting this sort of relief when I originally started. I still have a lot of dark moments I still need to share with all of you, but thank you for all of the loving comments.
My next story will be about my anorexia (I no longer struggle with this) and a story about my stay at the mental hospital. Like my previous post says, treat those around you kindly. You never know their own personal battles… If you ever met me in person, you’d never know I’ve had to endure all of this. Take care of yourselves!