My battle with mental illness- By Jonah

I don’t know who I’m writing this for but these are some things I have to say. I don’t know who will read this. If anyone ever.

My name is Jonah. I’m 19 years old. I’ve had a pretty rough life. Not rough as some, but I’ve been through more than any child ever should have. At age 14, I was diagnosed with depression and PTSD. At age 17, I was told my depression had grown even more severe. I was recommended medication. But I denied for fear of addiction and never actually being happy again.

So, here’s my struggle with mental illness.

I was born in Ottawa, Ontario.

I lived there until my dad left my mother at age 3.

She then decided to move back to her home province of Newfoundland. This is where I would make my first friend that I can recall, Jacob, at age 5. He is still my friend to this day, and we’ve been through many hardships and rough experiences together.

A lot goes on in my head throughout the day. I had the first suicidal thought at age 12. My mom had been with a severely emotional and physically abusive man since I was 5 at this time. He would hit her, he would hit me, and he would hit my older brother Cameron.

When he was finally arrested for assault on Father’s Day 2013 when I was just finishing Grade 7, I never felt relieved. And this is where PTSD really first started to kick in for me. I would have these wild thoughts all the time. My emotions would fluctuate a lot and I had no control. A lot of times I ate to deal with it, and that seemed to help. But not for long.

I contemplated and planned my first suicide attempt December of my grade 8 school year. And again, before my birthday of that same year. I even had the note written, which I had kept for many months after when I couldn’t carry out my attempt. But instead I curled up and cried on the floor, because I knew I would hurt my mom, my brother and my dad. But I was hurting and I wanted it to go away. I just wanted to be free.

After I finished grade 8, I decided maybe I should start fresh, and go live with my dad back in Ontario. Thinking that would help.

One thing I should bring up, is by this time I had been diagnosed with concussions twice. Which, increased my risk with depression.

School started normally at my dad’s. I thought I was doing better, my hockey skills advanced, I had lots of fun. I made new friends. I felt good. Then I had my first what I will consider the biggest blow of my life, I’m not exactly sure how or when I found out, but I found out that the only aunt I had was diagnosed with breast cancer again. It just kept coming back. I had a lot of trouble processing this. And I didn’t feel like anyone could be there. My dad, he tried, but it was his sister in law too, so it hurt him.

My depression got worse now, I missed Jacob and I missed my family in Newfoundland.

This brings up the 2nd plan for suicide. One morning, my dad worked early and his wife was gone as well. I was supposed to get myself up for school. And I did.

I got myself up and put the finishing touches on each individual note I had made for my dad, my mom, and my brother Cameron. The usual stuff, that this wasn’t their fault. That this wasn’t because of them but because of the pain I was in. The fact that I wanted to be free. I didn’t want to feel like a burden anymore. I put them on my bed. I got a knife and I got in the shower. I let it run. For a while. I missed the bus. And as I was in the shower getting ready to press the knife to my skin, my phone rang. It was my dad texting me. I got out and answered. He wondered if I made the bus. I replied that I didn’t. After a while he said his wife would bring me to school, but they wouldn’t be excusing me for being late. Which meant I had to serve detention.

If they had only known the reason. If only my dad had known what he stopped.

I took the letters and shoved them on top of my closet before I left.

The next few months would be normal. I would cry myself to sleep most nights. I was hurt and I would never tell anyone why. I was seeing a psychiatrist but it didn’t seem to help.

Then in February, I got hit from behind in a high school hockey game and had to be transported to CHEO, the children’s hospital in Ottawa. I had gotten a serious concussion and this is where the dark started again.

I stared having suicidal thoughts almost every day now. I just wanted it all to go away. 

I decided that I would end it for real this time. After my 15th birthday.

I spent a lot of time playing video games. Trying to take my mind off it. I prepared the notes again. I even wrote an extra one for my dad’s wife. Thanking her for the help she tried to give me with my struggle. Telling her to make sure that Gabrielle and Daniel (her and my dad’s children) don’t know what happened to me. That I’m just going away for a while.

I had a lot of prescription medications. A less painful way I thought. And one day I was home alone. I left the notes on the couch downstairs. I went into my room.

I closed the door, and I opened all the pills. I had a big glass of water, and I was crying, I was crying a lot. I told myself this was it. This was how I could finally be away from the hurt. I didn’t understand why I was hurting so much. But I knew I wanted it to go away.

I put the pills in my mouth, I picked up the water, I went to drink, and I heard the front door open, and the sound of Daniel’s little footsteps running across the living room hardwood upstairs. I spit the pills into the glass, I ran and grabbed the notes from the couch, into the closet they went. The water and pills went in the toilet and I flushed them. I came out just as Daniel came downstairs. If only my 2-year-old brother knew that he saved my life. And maybe one day, he will. But right now, he’s 7. So, he shouldn’t.

I decided that summer I should move back with my mom. My dad still doesn’t know the true reason why.

My mom drove up that summer with her new boyfriend Ramsey, his son Tayler and my brother Cameron. I was so happy to see them. I hated to say goodbye. Especially because my dad and his wife and children were completely oblivious as to the reason why.

I moved home, and life went well for the first year and a bit. I didn’t have any thoughts, I spent a lot of time with Jacob and our new friend Kodi, I played hockey and soccer and life was okay. But in January 2015, I got the worst news of my life. My aunt Chantal had passed away from her cancer. I knew now that she would finally be at peace. But I still couldn’t handle it. She was my only aunt. She was so loving. So caring. She didn’t deserve it and I couldn’t understand why she was taken from my family. I missed her so much and I miss her still just as much to this day and I now have a tattoo dedicated to her on my left arm. I went into a very bad state after her funeral. I couldn’t focus in school. I couldn’t focus at hockey. I couldn’t sleep. And when I slept I never wanted to get up. I didn’t know how to cope with it. And nobody was there for me.

Flash forward to me in my sophomore year of high school I met E. And that was the first time I fell in love. She is a beautiful red head, with gorgeous blue eyes. I really loved her. But our relationship was extremely rough, due to my mental state, which never really improved at all. I did so many things that I regret, but I cannot change. And one time when we broke up, I really thought that was it for me. I went for a walk to clear my head I told my mom. But I had a note prepared. I went to the Nicholsville bridge and I planned to drown myself. But I got to the top.

I sat there, and thought could I really do this to myself. Could I really hurt mom? could I really hurt Cameron?

Could I really hurt E? Could I really do that to my family?  And so, I climbed down, and that’s where Jacob’s ex-girlfriend had found me. I told her everything, and she talked me down and brought me to my mom and told her everything. My mom got me help.

I started to see a counsellor. Me and E got back together and I started to improve, even though my counsellor told me I had severe depression and recommended I start taking prescription pills but I declined in fear of addiction. And I stopped going to see her after. Me and E continued our relationship for a while after, but it started to get rough again, and I slowly found myself falling out of love with her, after I met a girl named K. We started to spend time together. She is a real sweet girl. So beautiful. Made me happier then I had ever been. She was close to God too and I figured that may be some help to me. So, when there was an easy way out with E. I took it. I fell quickly for K, she was shy, and she was different then E who I was used to after 2 years. But I quickly adapted to K, and now I believe she is the love of my life. She taught me so much about faith and Christianity. I started to talk to God. I started to seek help. And I was happy for a while. I didn’t have any dark thoughts for about 5 months while me and K were together. In the blink of an eye we hit a rough patch and broke up. I was heartbroken.

A few weeks later I made some bad decisions and I really hurt K. In a way I will never forgive myself for. And I wouldn’t ever expect her to forgive me for. I’m in love with K and I always will be. Even though I started some shenanigan with a girl named M, who I thought I hoped would help me be happy again and help me forget what happened with K. But every day we spent together. I still thought about her. All the time. I couldn’t stop. I missed her so much. But I didn’t know how to tell her after what I did.

The dark thoughts came again. I started to cry myself to sleep. But then I started spending the nights with M and I had to hold it in. Because I couldn’t cry about K with this girl who adores me lying next to me. But I missed K so much.

And now I’ll cut to today. August 12th 2018. Well August 13th while I’m writing this. I’ve been having suicidal thoughts again for about a week now. Progressively worse every day. Nightmares every night.

Sleeping poorly. In the news the other day, a man who has the same occupation as me (Ramp Attendant at an airport) killed himself in the US. And that hit me very hard. My thoughts increased after that. I leave my house a lot and my family always wonder where I’m going. Usually I say coffee with a friend or something but half the time it’s to go somewhere and be alone with my thoughts. Which probably isn’t the best idea. But I have no other way to cope. I listen to music and I think about everything. I think about the pain. I think of ways to try and numb it. I think about ending it, but then I think about the pain that will bring everyone around me. As I’m writing this tonight, it’s because I thought I was going to kill myself again tonight. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I won’t let this illness consume me anymore. From the moment I wake up tomorrow, I will be focused on bettering my mental health. I’m going to reach out to some advocates and see if I could share my story with others. In hopes that I can teach others that it isn’t worth it.

People care about you.

People will miss you.

No matter how hard it gets always remember that ending it doesn’t make it better. You are not alone. I know I’m not alone. There are lots of people around me. I hope that after writing this, I won’t ever have another suicidal thought. But I’m sure I will find myself writing again if I do.

I’m hurting. But I will get better.

And that’s the end.

"Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and strength."
                                                                       - Napoleon Hill