I’ve recently reached my breaking point, I hesitated to publish this because I don’t want anybody to get negative ideas. I am also afraid because most people deem this as a call for attention. However, my husband thought it might be nice for our friends and family to know this. Or for others around the world who’s in the same place.
I moved here in Japan knowing too little to speak the language but full of optimism because my husband and I will start our own family. However, life happened and soon both me and my husband were suffering from stress and depression. I was having a hard time coping with my unemployment and my new environment. I decided to take things slow and study before applying for jobs. Don’t get me wrong, I applied for a job several times during my first 2-3 months here. It wasn’t easy at all. Sometimes, I felt so positive with my application but I never received a call. Most of the time I only get automated replies. My husband told me to be more aggressive but I find that hard because I couldn’t even speak their language and know so little about their culture. Once in a while I cry and beg to come home in Manila but that’s just throwing away what me and my husband worked for so far. That, I admit, is most selfish. My husband has his own problems that I should be supporting him more rather than focusing on my troubles and hurt him in the process.
Frankly, this situation was tearing myself apart. I wanted a career or at least a job where I can earn and help my husband with the expenses. But I also want to be there for my husband all the time and cheer him up, especially with his condition.
Because of this, I started to feel like I’m a burden for everybody. I feel like I’m the reason my husband got sick, I feel like I made a huge mistake and I dragged him along with me.
These thoughts in my head kept me awake at night. Most of the time I ask my husband to help me fall asleep. Of course that disrupts his own sleep and really, I’m THAT selfish. Then I keep dreaming of death, how I die. I dreamt of drowning, I dreamt of dying from a car cash and even dreamt of not waking up at all.
I used a lot of “I’s” because I was really being shamefully selfish.
These thoughts of dying gave me the relief that I won’t have to bother my husband during his sleep or make him feel worse by begging to go home. I started thinking and feeling how death can relieve my husband’s condition and may set my mother free from worrying about us.
One night I was fed up and decided to try cutting my wrist with scissors. It was not sharp enough and my husband was able to stop me. He asked me to drink his sleeping pills and watched me until I fall asleep.
However, the pills only postponed my suicidal episode that once I woke up, I washed all knives available in the kitchen contemplating how to properly cut my wrist.
I started with our steel knife. I was expecting that once I slowly slice my wrist, blood will start spurting out. Apparently it didn’t do any damage on my skin, just a slight scratch mark. I did it again and again but all I’m doing was scratching my wrist. It became red but no blood. Hence, I changed the knife and tried our ceramic knife. Before slicing my wrist again I thought of the blood. Why, I was standing at the kitchen and thought my blood would be all over the place! Therefore I went inside the bathtub and started slicing my already red wrist. I see blood now and this time I wasn’t slicing slowly. I was pushing the knife onto my wrist and then sliced it. However, all I did was make a thin wound with so little blood and it soon started clotting. I was already shaking at that time and decided to give it a rest. I went back to our bed and googled how to properly cut my wrist and successfully commit suicide. The internet did not disappoint me, I found a very instructive page of how to properly die by cutting my own wrist. There are a couple of more sites listing the quickest way to commit suicide.
Anyway, I found out what I was doing wrong and how likely I would die from cutting my own wrist. I was fortunate to read people’s comments because they gave insights of how long it’ll take before I die and the percentage of my success.
I thought it through before proceeding with the proper ways to end my life. I checked if I have enough time before my husband comes home and I was able to tell a friend online that I was suicidal. My husband sent me a message that he will be home before night and my friend just replied “gago ka!” which, frankly, encouraged my will to die.
I decided to deactivate my social media accounts as my feeble, initial attempt to disappear.
The only thing that stopped me was my belief in God. I stopped for a moment and cried. I prayed, thanking for this gift of life and asked/begged him to take it back.
My husband suddenly walked in, which surprised me and so I froze on the bed.
I closed my eyes because I felt shame and couldn’t bare to see his face. My husband saw the wound on my wrist and said ” I’m sorry”
He gave me a little space until I came around and told him honestly what I was planning to do before he came home.
My husband now has this fear that he tries to mask by doting. I created this fear. The same fear I had when he was in the same place. I guess we’re both suicidal at one point but I should’ve learned from him.
I now remember how I felt when he was in the same place. All I could do was regret and once in a awhile imagine how our life would be if my suicide was not successful.
On the same day my husband bought me a cream for my wound and we ate in a Korean restaurant while watching a boxing match between Japan and Philippines.
I felt a little better after seeing my husband’s glee when the Filipino boxer won after one round, knocking out the other three times within one round.
I also remember feeling humbled when the Japanese boxer approached the other with congratulations and sportsmanship.
I am writing this for my own good, for my own reminder. This is something I should never forget but learn from. This is something I should pray for and ask for forgiveness.
Everybody on earth go through rough times just like me. Everybody has their share of bad and good, of joy and sadness, of adventure and gloom. I shouldn’t think too much of my trouble and blame my own burden to take my own life. There’s a number of individuals out there whose days are numbered, who would spend their final days to live rather than think about their upcoming death.
To my husband, I should be the one who’s “sorry” and that I should know how it feels like when the one you love is losing their will to live. I love you so much I regret that I ever thought of this selfish act. My love for you puts me in the place of our friends and family who would feel devastated if one of us gives up on love, on life.
I’m keeping my social media accounts deactivated. Something I’ve never done before and it might just help.