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Stigma Fighters : Peter M. Olsen

A trigger warning to those whose lives have been touched by suicide. This is a very raw, honest account of my suicide attempt in mid-2012. These are thoughts and feelings I had in the moments leading up to my suicide attempt. This in no way, shape, or form represents my current state of mind today. I live a very stable, healthy, productive life and will continue to do so. If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide and need immediate, confidential help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255.
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You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I’ve heard these seven words in different incarnations from different people throughout my life.
I’ve heard these seven words so much that I really started to believe it. 
These seven words are burned into my consciousness.
They plague my existence.
They haunt me like malicious apparitions waiting to eviscerate my soul.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

These words came from the one woman whom I loved.
My wife.
To have and to hold from this day forth.
You may kiss the bride.
I loved you with all my heart and soul.
She said she loved me.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Burned into my soul these words.
They haunt me to this very day.
I trusted you! I loved you! I gave you everything!
And you just gave up. You fucking coward.
You said you loved me.
YOU BITCH! You said you loved me.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

These words have now become a mantra.
These words have become my hope and my dreams and my fear and my fucking reality.
I am now become these words.
I am hate and lies and darkness and death.
I am Jack’s evil darkness and imminent death.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Crying, cutting, bleeding. Punching myself. Rocking back and forth, knowing this is the end.
In the middle of a hotel room. In southwest Washington state. All alone.
Too scared and embarrassed to tell my family and very close friends.
Too far fucking gone to ask for help.
They would never believe me. Ashamed. So fucking ashamed.
This is where I’ve come to die.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

My belt is laying on the bed. It says hello to me.
It wants to help me in my sadness.
It wants to be my friend.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I’m hysterical. Uncontrollable. So lost. SO FUCKING LOST.
This is going to be the end. 
“SHE SAID SHE FUCKING LOVED ME!!!!”
I’m rocking back and forth.
I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop crying.
I CAN’T STOP FUCKING CRYING!

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I slowly walk into the bathroom. Cutting…shallow cuts. Legs are bleeding.
I step into the bathtub and wrap the belt around my neck.
Cinch it tighter. 
Make this hurt.
I throw the other part of the belt around the plastic shower curtain rod.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Those words are getting louder.
Unbearable. Really unbearable. Really loud. 
REALLY FUCKING LOUD!!!!

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I try to jump down on my knees but the shower curtain rod breaks toward me.
My body slams against the tiled wall behind me.
I crumble in a million pieces in the bathtub.
Broken. Bruised. Bloody.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

Those voices are laughing at me. 
LAUGHING AT ME!!!!
No one will love you now.
Wasted, pathetic life you are the voices said.

You’re nothing.
You’re a loser.
You’re shit.

I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop fucking crying.
Help me! Someone fucking help me!
She said she loved me. 
YOU FUCKING BITCH! 
You said you loved me.

I’m rocking back-and-forth. In a bathtub. In the middle of a hotel room.
With a belt wrapped around my neck. All alone.
Too scared to share with my family or my very close friends.
This is where I’ve come to die. 
I can’t stop crying. I CAN’T STOP FUCKING CRYING!

She said she loved me.

She said she’d love me.

*****

11071577_10153841693388219_7850710532403274177_nHi! I’m Peter. Nice to meet you!

I am a content recruiter for Stigma Fighters, a mental health non-profit organization (501C3 pending) based in Brooklyn, NY dedicated to helping people living with mental illness.

I graduated from Washington State University in 2003 with a BA in Humanities focusing on journalism. I am a loyal Xbox 360 addict (Gamertag…banishedcougar), an unapologetic coffee snob, proud member of the Cougar Nation, a PLUR warrior, and all-around pretty cool guy. Trance, trap, and house music keeps me very, very happy.

I live in the greatest city on Planet Earth.
The Emerald City…Seattle, Washington.

Let’s hang out together throughout social media.

Peter can be found on his blog, Twitter, Soundcloud, Pinterest, Instagram and Periscope

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  • Miranda kate

    Thank you for sharing. SO brave!

    You are important
    Your thoughts create
    Your actions matter
    Your presence changes everything.

    Glad you managed to get out of that dark place.

  • William Thomason

    Thank you, Peter. It’s a hard thing to share and you have my respect for being strong enough to do so.

  • http://RachelintheOC.com/ Rachel Thompson

    Your story is so raw and brave. I’m blown away. Amazing writing, my friend.

  • Peter M. Olsen

    Thank you for warm words. I really appreciate it. <3

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