One afternoon in March, I called the suicide hotline. I had hit my breaking point. My body was completely numb. I was afraid of myself. I needed to be honest about what I was planning to do. I needed help.
The connection established.
I said, “I’m going to commit suicide.”
The person, said “Don’t do that.” An annoyed tone crept up among their words.
“Do you have someone to talk to?”
“No, that’s why I called you,” I said. “I really need you to help me.”
A burning sensation filled my chest cavity. Admitting that was hard.
The person, increasingly frustrated said,”God says suicide is a sin.”
This was my first time calling this line. I was shocked at what I was hearing. How did any god have any say in what was happening at that moment? How was that supposed to help me after stating I was going to commit suicide?
“I’m not religious.” I stated, blandly.
“Well that’s your problem.” they said, pointedly. “You don’t believe in the Lord, Jesus Christ, your savior. You wouldn’t feel this way if you did.”
“I’m an Atheist.” I said. I had not fully believed that thought until then.
I hung up.
I focused on how much I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t sense anything except my burning heart.
I picked up something sharp. I made a tiny nick near my ear.
I watched little beads of red surface in my mirror.
I was tired. Exhausted. Unprepared.
My body fell to the floor.
I woke up after dark.