Breaking Point

“Yeah. Just thinking about that is so sick I could kill myself.”

“Oh definitely. Commit suicide.”

“Maybe drink some bleach.”

Yeah, that’s right. Make jokes.

“Take a razor and just slash.” Abby says as she pretends to drag a razor across her wrist.

“I’ve tried to commit suicide seven times.” Jade says with a smile while shoving down a wristband to show faded horizontal scars on her wrist.

“Sometimes I get so angry I try to strangle myself. Or suffocate myself with a pillow.” Helen throws in as she leans back.

I sit there trying not to start screaming.

I can’t count the number of times this has happened. Suicide is a popular topic right now. Especially among my ‘emo’ friends.

Jokes and half-hearted confessions are made as easily as saying hi.

As I try not to start insensitively bitching them out I picture Trent’s face. This makes me want to cry. It always does.

I can’t really blame my friends for what they say. I know I shouldn’t take it personally. They don’t know about Trent. I’ve made sure.

“Did you say seven times, Jade?” Alana asks

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t try very hard, did you?”

They laugh.

That’s when I decide I just can’t take it anymore.

“Will you all just shut up!” I shout. “Suicide is so funny. We all get it. All of you think it’s not big deal to just blow out stupid remarks. You all think that, because you’ve tried, you can make jokes about it. You never think about how other people take these things. Do you?”

Silence.

“Well? If it’s still so funny to you, joke about it. Go on!”

More silence. That’s what I thought.

"What the hell?" Jade says offended.

"What's your problem?" Abby asks. "Have you tried to do it?"

"No."

"So?" Jade questions as she crosses her wristbanded arms.

"Not everyone thinks this is so funny. Not everyone thinks you're weekly declarations of 'I'm going to kill myself' are perfectly normal and okay for you to do." I only stop my tirade to breath. "Some people take suicide seriously. Forgive me for not thinking that this is funny. Sorry someone really close to me committed suicide because he was bipolar. Sorry I find no humor in that."

They fall quiet again. And before I can be forced to explain, I quickly walk away. Now picturing Trent's mom when she told me that she had found him with a bullet through his head.

---
Trent was my boyfriend. I loved him. A lot. I'd known him for a while, but not in that close 'I know everythig' way.

When we started dating, I'd noticed little things. Tiny things that I didn't worry about much. I figured he was a teenage guy. He'd do weird things every once in a while.

When he told me he was bipolar, I freaked. I'd experienced this disorder before. My mom's ex-boyfriend claimed to be bipolar. They used it as an excuse to hit her. I didn't want to deal with that. Trent telling me made me unsure of our relationship. I almost broke up with him. Almost.

In truth, our relationship didn't last very long-three months. Still those three months were some of the most important of my life. And I'd never throw them away. Despite the way they ended.

His mood swings were wild. He could be eratic, standoffish, anxious, angry. And there were days he'd cut off contact with me, leaving me wondering if I'd done something wrong.

When he fell into depressions I didn't feel like I could do a single thing to help him. i was suffering from my own constant depression. We wallowed together.

I can't really bring myself to talk about those last few days. For that I'm sorry to leave an open space right here. I just can't talk about that yet.

After he committed suicide (something I hadn't anticipated as he told me he was going to start taking medication and seeing a therapist) I became completely quiet about him.

My family didn't know about him to begin with. i didn't want them to know. I was in a teenage mood, trying to block them out. My friends from school were just as in the dark. He was part of my outside group of friends. I didn't let them mix, for a reason I still don't understand.

I was worried about how they would treat me if they knew. This was my mentality. until the day that I cracked.

That day I realized that I can't keep secrets like the one about Trent. It doesn't benefit anyone. My friends don't know they're hurting me. And I don't get it off my chest and suffer in silence.

I'm working on being able to feel like I don't need to shut off my feelings and connections to suicide.

I'm working on being able to say, "Trent was my boyfriend. I loved him. He was bipolar and he committed suicide." Hopefully this blog will help me get farther in that process.

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