Broken

Another mental health awareness month is drawing to a close. That may surprise many of you who didn't even know it started 28 days ago. Why? Because it still isn't being talked about. In this age of overwhelming amounts of news and information at our fingertips - a time when all anyone seems to be able to talk about are big world problems, the issues that hit closer to home fade into the background. Don't get me wrong, those big world problems are important, but we can't move forward as a nation while leaving people behind.

Every time one of these big shootings splashes across the headlines, a part of the population screams for mental health reform. But then the majority of people go back to their daily lives and the people that need our help continue to go unseen, unheard. We don't see because we don't want to see.

LJ Higgins, a wonderful writer and friend, published a book called In Their Shoes. It's a collection of beautifully written, heart wrenching short stories that chronicle the very real struggles of everyday people. It lets us see what they see, feel what they feel.

I will warn you, this story will not leave your heart intact, but it will leave your eyes open.

BROKEN by LJ Higgins

I’VE THOUGHT about it so many times I’ve lost count. How I would do it. Where I would do it. But every time fear floods in, reminding me that I am too much of a coward to go through with it. Tonight will be different. Tonight I am ready, fearless. Tonight I have found the courage to rid the world of another ugly, unlovable loser. Tonight I will kill myself.

I wasn’t always this person. This ugly girl that nobody likes. Or maybe I was, but I’ve just been too pathetic to see it for myself. It hadn’t taken very long for my friends to work it out, to spread the vicious lies and rumours that would ruin my life forever. When they first started, I told myself I would be okay. If I ignored them they would soon get tired of following me around, taunting me, prank calling my phone and leaving me hate filled messages on my Facebook page. Well, that’s what my parents had told me. They lied. Slowly I worked out that they were never going to stop, that maybe they were right. I also worked out how to keep the way it makes me feel locked up inside. That way, no one else has to deal with the worthless person I have become. That way, I won’t be a burden on the people I love and that have to love me.

I suppose my parents will be sad when I’m gone. But I also know they will feel a sense of relief when they don’t have to deal with their weird daughter that no one likes anymore. The one who wears long sleeves to cover up the ugly scars from the wounds she has inflicted upon herself. They have never mentioned noticing them, maybe they hadn’t. But the way they look at me shows they are scared of me, unsure what’s wrong with me. I’m sure when I was born they had hoped they’d been blessed with the smart kid, the cool kid. The kid everyone wanted to be like and friends with. Instead, they received me, and I could feel their disappointment every time I walked in the room.

Ding!

My laptop chimes and I open it to find one of my regular messages.

“Do us a favour and kill yourself you ugly lesbian.”

I laugh morbidly to myself, “Okay.”

I’m not a lesbian. Not that I don’t like lesbians, I’m sure they’re very nice, but I have never done the things those girls accuse me of. Most of which are too graphic to even relay. But they are right about two things. I am ugly. And I will be doing the world a favour by killing myself.

I scoop up the pills placed in a neat circle in front of my laptop on the desk. A concoction of tablets I found in my parents bathroom medicine cabinet while they were at work. I’m pretty sure most of them are sleeping tablets. I’m not sure about the rest. I do know however, if I take enough I will drift off to sleep never to wake again. At least that way, when my parents find me I’ll look peaceful.

They’ll realise I’ve done them a favour, and have ended the misery that was my life. Walking towards my bed, I pick up the small bottle of vodka I’d stolen from my dad’s collection of alcohol to help wash the handful of pills down.

Ding!

Another message chimes on Facebook and upon opening the message, I find a video of two girls doing one of the things they had accused me of. I shake my head and close down the window. That isn’t the last image I want in my mind when I die. I sit in my chair and google ‘Beach Scene’ picking one with bright blue skies, crystal clear water and bright white sand. Leaning back in my chair, I shuffle the pills into my other hand and back again. A deep breath helps push away the nagging doubts that scream in the back of my mind, trying to convince me to persevere with this wretched life I have been given.

I won’t let them win again. I can’t do this one more day. I empty my palm full of pills onto my tongue. They rattle against my teeth as I take a deep swig from the vodka bottle. I force it down with a painful gulp and my stomach heaves, bile rises in my throat, tightening it. I clamp my hand over my lips and swallow it back down. Now all I have to do is wait.

I change into my favourite dark blue dress that I’ve laid out on my bed. It reminds me of the last time I felt pretty. Before I realised my many flaws. Before the people around me began noticing them too. Before I cut myself for the first time because I couldn’t handle the truth. That I wasn’t special or likeable. I was a weird, ugly girl who was destined to be tortured and tormented her entire life. I am too strange, too different. I run my fingers along the raised lines of skin that cover the underside of my arms. I don’t care about my scars now, they remind me of how much pain I’ve endured on my own and why I have made this decision. When they find me, my parents will finally see the pain I’ve been in. They will understand why I’ve done this.

My head feels light so I decide to lay on my bed. My only sanctuary in this cruel world. My stomach lurches, and although I heave and cough, I manage to keep the pills down. I stare again at the beach setting on my laptop until it begins to blur. The room spins slowly around me. I thought I would have more time. I didn’t realise the pills would work so fast, or make my head and stomach feel so terrible. My head sinks lazily into the pillow and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself. It’s too late to change my mind. I have finally done it.

Thump! Thump!

Dull knocks sound in my fuzzy ears and I force open my heavy eyes.

Have I been asleep for hours?

Or have only minutes passed?

A muffled voice calls through the door and I try to voice that I’m okay, that I don’t want to be disturbed. My lips are moving but no sound makes its way out. There’s a large bang followed by a crash as my father busts through the door. I can’t make out his features, but I instinctively know it’s him. He approaches me and begins shaking me vigorously. I want to beg him to stop. The motion makes my head throb and my vision swirl around the room. My eyes lose focus and roll back into my head.

A shrill scream sounds as my mum arrives and runs to my side, sobbing loudly, calling my name. I am trying to tell her not to worry, that everything will be okay now. Again nothing audible comes out. The edges of my vision have blurred and bright lights appear in the darkness that is taking me over. I can’t hold my eyes open any longer. The world fades to black.

Available here.