When you emerge after a suicide attempt, your first thought is,
'Fuck I’m still here!'
It becomes your only mission, that to leave this plane because the pain is too much. You don’t announce, share or discuss your plans, it happens internally. The planning and clear concoction is in your head, nowhere else. Your heart is voiceless and your soul’s screams are silent. It just watches you do what you have to do.
I was 11 and my internal world was one big beautiful mess. The joy and absolutely unfuckwithable resilience of the child I grew up as was gone. She faded with every parental display of verbal bullets; she frayed further during every moment of deadly silence in the aftermath and she disappeared totally in utter confusion of what was taking place around her.
The impact of a household war on a young child is a lethal impact on her every cell.
Anyway back to suicide
It was Sunday and I was already on a strong prescription of anti-depressants.
I remember them taking away my appetite completely and I was just numb all over. It was like I was walking with a grey cloud over my head. My spirit was fucked and the pills only took the external pain away, they certainly didn’t take me away from what was causing my slow death.
I remember Sundays to be the loneliest days. There was either a silent family lunch where you’d know that a war is about to break or no family lunch at all. The family was dispersed, never united.
My mother was either with me if they were on bad terms or totally indulged in the fake composition of their marriage if my dad happened to have his Dr.Jekyll mask on. (that was the closest to norm)
She asked, ‘Are you coming coz I’m off to your aunt’
The drugs were making me sick and I could hardly move. Im not sure what my response was but I certainly didn’t opt to leave the bed, let alone the house.
She left anyway.
It was so silent, I could really heard the voice saying,
There you go, take them!
The confusion of what was taking place around me, the lonliness I felt and the internal chaos joined hands and became a bigger force than me. If being alive meant being in this much pain, then I'm out. I downed the whole bottle of pills with not much thought and really calmly. I just couldn’t handle the silence any more. It felt like a knife cutting right through me. I woke up many hours later totally dazed. Nothing happened to me! I was still here and I was not happy about it.
Nobody ever knew about this attempt on that lonely sunday. I grew up with the open wound and then went along and tried to make a life for myself.
Of course I failed
It was like walking around with a gaping wound on my hand leaking blood all over the place and infecting everything it touched.
The contributing acts behind Suicide
Parents who did not behave like parents
Being fragile, voiceless and robbed from feeling safe
The impact of emotional trauma
Shut down of inner world
Years later with a couple more pathetic attempts to end it, something happened. In all the chaos and pain, I decided to come off drugs all on my own just like that. I wanted to feel again, eat again, cry again.
Then all the brokenness emerged with the greatest power.
Everything that the drugs had wiped under the rug resurfaced. I was sick on all aspects and only I could turn it around. My teenage years were a massive series of lonliness and wrong moves. And in my early 20's I decided that a guy who treated me like shit was the only one who will love me after my parents, so I married him. After leaving him, I went through years of horror with men who represented my dad and offered the same sort of silent punishment that he did. Every partition meant a fresh attempt to end it.
Then I guess life decided to call my bluff. I was going nowhere and I needed something, someone to turn the torch on full blast. I was 28 and my son Jules was born. My body was absolutely broken.
The child literally came and conquered and left me in pieces. The birth was the pivot and the moment I actually sensed the way up from being completely stuck at rock bottom. My broken body meant that I could not walk, take care of Jules, drive or dance. Nothing. This was definitely life calling my bluff
I will fast forward the path.
Another attempt to end it and that voice emerged saying 'Go to India'. India followed my own concocted physical rehabilitation and when the body was back to full force again, I started my Yoga route.
The contributing acts behind the healing
This is an important thing I need to be clear about.
I had a list of contributing acts that shifted my sorry arse into gear - Jules, my broken body after birth, India, Yoga, shit loads of Yoga and Pranayama and failed attempts at Meditating (quick note so I don’t deviate – when you are dealing with a suicidal mind, you can’t breath or meditate or sit still as it causes even more pain) but what really truly got me out of Depression was the awakening moment of why I am here on this plane.
I haven’t got a sharp recollection of how things happened but when I was shown the many ways life could just take me away, I wanted to stay. Irony!
The voice that said, 'There’s more than this’ was much louder than, ‘Die you bitch’. It was loud and persistent and I consider myself to be the luckiest soul on here to have had this chance to stay and show up for myself, my mission and what was to come
The cause of the depressive mind
Of course there are scientific facts about brain chemicals not being produced and on an energetic level, a blockage in the Root Chakra but that's not really the real cause
Not being on your path is one of the greatest causes for unhappiness.
Not doing what you love is lethal
Not knowing who you are or why you are here will cause you the most painful void.
And never reaching and realizing this will always be the root behind Depression
And the root(s) of all evil
The child in you that remains voiceless and traumatised.
She needs to be healed totally.
This is my biggest pre requisite. You will not move on unless she gets sorted, tucked in and embraced back to safety
The meaning behind your traumatic event
This too needs to be reviewed, understood and healed. Once we re arrange the meaning behind what happened to us, a shift takes place. The same event can happen to two different people and they will each react to it differently. We are all individuals working through a very bespoke sophisticated system needing another bespoke way out.
Yoga, like I mentioned before was a minute % of my healing. It was there everyday for me and despite my resistance to practice, I still did somehow. It replaced the drugs I had given up, it turned me on my head and got the brain full of fresh oxygen and for the few minutes that I was on the mat, it offered me solace and relief from the depths of darkness.
I was still dealing with pain but the curiosity and will to show up for my mission was greater than anything else. I became cutthroat in certain areas of life. I just couldn’t be asked with my own bullshit let alone anyone else’s.
I had two voices to deal with.
One that randomly reminded me that I was useless, guilty, ashamed, dirty, sick and that I should die and another that resiliently nudged me to keep going. That voice belonged to that resilient 'don’t fuck with me' little girl. She was still alive and she wanted to go places.
I followed blindfoldedly! I kept going but the pain wasn't going.
Then, after I healed my body from the birth, I was thrown into this sector of healing.
From the Dance Studio to meeting one person on her solo journey of recovery or transformation
It was word of mouth and people came to me asking me to put them back together.
‘Jan, can you fix me?’ I heard what you went through and doctors have given up on me, HELP!
I forgot about myself and fixed others
I felt this surge of life rising up and the light shone
It felt as if a window was slowly opening to one of the greatest views on earth. Fresh mountain view with the bluest skies and the most exquisite sunshine
Turning the mess into a message
Then all the little contributing acts started to make sense.
India called my bluff and shifted my perception of life TOTALLY
Yoga became my fiercest drug free remedy and a practice that would assist me to mend someone else
The birth and my broken body became the foundation of how I wanted to rehabilitate the person in front of me
My dad's mental illness inspired me to study the mind further
The resilience of that little girl inside me, the one with the fucking loud voice telling me to keep at it made me dive deep into Inner Child Therapy and regress back to reconnect with her. This, I have to say, was a painful path as I was using someone else’s guidance and it didn’t resonate with me. I found my own way to bring her back and this one aspect of healing now joins hands with my Yoga on a very equal basis. It is now, what I call a mish mesh of healing magic. It is part human part soul; a blend of down to earth & mystical....
Seeing beyond the story
I am one of the lucky ones.
Now my only belief is that life truly wanted me here for a greater mission
I am here to humbly and unapologetically remind myself and everyone else that comes in contact with me that we don’t have time. There is no guarantee that tomorrow we will breathe and wasting a beautiful short life on pettiness is a sin
I dedicate this piece of writing to the beautiful souls whose cries were unheard and the pain was too much to bear. May they find their rest and peace