*******trigger warning – suicidal thoughts*******
So here it is 5 in the morning and this memory keeps flashing in my head. I figure I might as well write it out so that I can digest it. Most of this memory has always been there for me to access. Only the emotions, feelings, and a few moments of it were repressed. I know that yesterday I was trigger to this memory by my nephew’s bloody nose. I was watching him and all of a sudden blood was everywhere. Blood always triggers me.
I was 8 years old and I was playing in the back yard with my cousin. We had this tree fort that we were constantly building and rebuilding. The only thing about it that ever stayed the same was the floor. Nails were a precious hoarded supple, so when we dropped one on the ground we always went looking for it. This particular day I was the one on the ground looking for the nail. My cousin keep trying to point it out from up above in the fort. He was using the hammer as a pointer. I finally found it among the grass and leaves. I bent down to pick it up at the same time that a cockroach ran across my cousin’s hand causing him to scream, jump back and most importantly drop the hammer that had been pointed at the nail. The hammer hit me straight in the back of the head. All I can say is that I am lucky it was the blunt end and not the clawed end.
This is where my memory got repressed because for the longest time the next thing I remembered was the hospital. Here is what it repressed. The hammer hit me and my hands went to the back of my head. They came away covered in blood. All I could do was look at it. It was everywhere. When I was asked in therapy how this made me feel I keep getting one answer. An answer that didn’t make sense. I was glad. I was happy. The thought that keep going through my mind was good, maybe I’ll bled to death and this horrible life will be over. So I sat down on the ground and just stared at the blood. I truly think if I had been alone, I would have bled out in my backyard and been glad of it. Fortunately for me, my cousin was there. He came down the tree and grabbed my hands putting one to my head to stop the bleeding and he pulled me by the other to the house. Yelling for my mother the whole time. It took 12 stitches and a horrible experience with doctors and hospitals.
I don’t know why I repressed the blood and the suicidal thoughts. I have thought about it a lot since this memory surfaced, and all I can come up with is that I was ashamed of my feelings of wanting death. I was an 8 year-old girl, I shouldn’t have wanted to die but there you go, the feelings where there.
While I have never actively tried to take my own life (no razors,pills or the likes), I now see a pattern in my behavior of life threating situations. If death came knocking I was going to let it.