10. Suicidal thoughts, attempts, obsession (including passive suicide).
Yes I went through this. I have heard this issue repeated so many many times by other survivors. I have had friends go through this for months, for years.
I used to think that I never acted out my suicidal thoughts. But that was before some memories surfaced.
My brother, who was a less than two years older than me, was the closest thing that I ever had to having a good mother. He meant the whole wide world to me.
When I was five my mother had manged to finally turn him against me. She taught him how to say the filthy nicknames at me with classic conditioning techniques, good old cookies. I knew if she could get him to hurt me like this and to enjoy it, she would do this to my younger siblings as well and then I would truly be alone.
It truly was my breaking point. I just couldn’t endure anymore from her or my family of origin. One day I climbed up the staircase to throw myself on the floor beneath. I calculated that I would have to climb on top of the railing at the top of the stairs in order to get enough distance between me and the floor below. I tried and I tried. I couldn’t manage to get my little body atop the railing.
I emotionally fell off the cliff after that failure. It took a long time for me to be able to pick myself up and walk away from that.
I started picking and scratching my face and having raw and bleeding areas, with scabbing over being pulled off over and over.
Kindergarten was a blur. I remember the first day and I remember sitting in the back of the class and looking at the letters of the alphabet above the blackboard. That is all.
I remember getting ready for my kindergarten school photo one morning and how my mother managed to damage my beautiful navy dress that I loved so much, so I had to wear a different dress for the photo. I still see the damage on my face on that picture, with the white itchy cream she would force me to wear.
A few years ago I finally cut my brother out of my life. He was exactly as my mother had fashioned him, still taking glee in hurting, wounding and abusing me. He still doesn’t get why. Though I tried for over three years to get him to stop verbally and emotionally abusing me. He still doesn’t get why. He never will.
There was another attempt when I was eleven. I’ll try to write about that another time.
When I started to remember ritual abuse memories and learning that I was multiple, I had constant suicidal thoughts. So many of my littles were feeling the abusive group’s programming to kill ourself after we started remembering. It was a constant thought process for several years. I’m so glad that we survived.