> Trigger Warning: talk of self harm/attempted suicide <
I worked at Temple Square as a custodian for 2 and a half years. If you knew me from around 2016ish to 2018ish, you know this.
But one thing I never opened up about, at least not fully, is that I attempted to end my own life. This Is my story of one of the most profoundly dark attempts I've ever had, and I've attempted quite a few times throughout my life -more so in the past- that's why I chose to share this one.
I had been working as a custodian for more than 2 years at this point, I had been getting slower at my job due to quite a few medical issues that I just put off as “just being tired from working a lot”. I also didn't know I had borderline personality disorder so I assumed my highs and lows were normal. I was just a very bubbly person that had PTSD and was tired and sore from working and it was all normal, that's what I thought.
But in reality there was an introvert with a whole storm within myself that I nor anybody else knew about or understood. At the time. And this big event in my life definitely woke me up to the importance of diving deeper in therapy and figuring myself out on a more intimate level with my mind and soul.
I was quite depressed, despite the happiness I experienced, I didn't understand why I felt that way a lot. I didn't understand why I suddenly wanted to fall to the floor and bawl my eyes out, randomly, in private, in public, in happy moments, in sad moments… and every single time I attempted to pray, pour my heart, and attention out, and listening ears to a God I didn't even want to admit to myself yet that I didn't actually believe in. I cried heavily on and off my whole life and felt like an alien for it…. I was a wreck at random times. And at work it made it worse. I'd mask my symptoms, to be normal, to be good, to behave, it was overwhelming not only mentally but physically….. I was just severely depressed.
So one day when I was doing my rounds as a custodian does; I was walking from the tabernacle building to the North Visitors center. I went in, did what I needed to do, then stood outside the Christus room. I just stood there. Paced a few feet back and forth, tears welled up inside my eyes and I ran to the stairwell I was near, (to the left of the Christus). I pushed the door and it closed behind me.....
I stood there, frozen, at the top of the stairs that ended just 10ish feet down. I looked at the bottom of them, wondered to myself why I should even live. Why I don't feel like I'm enough. Why I'm not this. Why I don't look, feel, act, be someone else that I admire. Giving myself reasons to just do it. Told myself to just let my mind go blank, calm the body, and I could hopefully knock myself out by bashing my head against the last step or wall….. and I dropped forward…. Thinking I had I high chance at dying this way. I bruised a part of my arm-
- (I never showed anyone it, and as someone with BPD who, frankly yes, at times seeks attention, I was too embarrassed to, I didn't want anyone making fun of how I attempted, like I'm some moron…. It's less likely to die that way but I didn't know til I thought more clearly later on)- I bruised near my right elbow, faintly, it hit one of the steps, keeping the steps from jamming into my ribs. Believers in God would see that as a miracle, I just felt it was my body trying to protect itself and taking over functions during my fall.
I just laid there. Staring at the floor, and the wall…. Then at my tears that fell onto the ground…. I turned, got up, looked up the stairs, I felt so dramatic but I couldn't stop my feelings… I was trying…. I felt stupid and kept telling myself why I'm pathetic, why people must hate me is because I'm so pathetic. I kept putting myself down and thinking about how nobody truly likes me… as I was walking back up the stairs I remembered that I had a conversation with my lead at that time, my “boss”... he kind of took me under his wing, like a big brother, he was like that to me. We talked about life, fears, work, family, God, religion, a lot…. He helped me feel open enough to call him at this point, I felt like a burden to everyone else but him. At that moment during those couple weeks or so.
I called him on the walkie talkie/radio I had clipped on my pocket. I can't remember All the words I said but I think I remember feeling a tinge of guilt but still telling him something along the lines of,
“Can you please come to me tears literally streaming out of my eyes and my throat slightly clenching up I think i need someone to talk to, I'm having a hard time emotionally”
And he told me to stay where I was, I did, he rushed, talked a bit with me, I told him I was having certain thoughts, we walked through a bunch of halls below the square, most i've been through before, I always used to feel cool walking through them, like I belonged somewhere, fit in… we then went into some area I don't remember ever going in, then went to an office room with like 6 security officers, all men, I felt uncomfortable, they asked me if I attempted, I lied and said no, they told me they'll get me into an emergency therapist, LDS of course, I accepted. My bishop's wife picked me up, took me, I went into the therapist's office, pretended I was fine, she made me feel uncomfortable with her shallow way of therapizing, I was still feeling worthless and hopeless beyond belief. I then got taken home by my bishops wife, I was home alone, I knew I would be, I told the security officers that, the therapist, and the bishops wife, they seemed to not care, I felt stupid thinking they should have.
I got worse through the next few days, quit my job, moved, months later my boyfriend at the time stopped paying my rent, broke up with me, canceled the wedding….. then I moved in with a friend…. It goes on and on after that.
–But essentially, that day led into a world of pain, physically, emotionally, mentally…. My world was gutted and set on fire.
The chain of events led to a couple more attempts but in the last couple years I have grown to figure myself out, understand more, explain it to those close to me, change some things, and now I write things out…. It's my way of healing. I write.
And I think it's poetic that the north visitors building is demolished along with so many other parts of temple Square, me leaving the church, me eroding the toxic parts of me…. are just simply poetic.
There's that story.
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