Confessions logo

Writing Saved My Life When I Questioned My Existence

I googled for the ways to die peacefully.

By Ziva LanePublished 3 years ago 5 min read
Like
Photo by Ave Calvar Martinez from Pexels

CW: This story discusses anxiety, depression, and suicide. If any of these seem potentially triggering to you, please click out.

. . .

Growing up, I’ve mostly written on pen and paper as a hobby. I’d write weird sentences when English was introduced as a second language. Even though I’ve always had a difficult relationship with my parents, one thing I’m thankful for is that they taught me the importance of the language.

At school, I’d participate in English debates, declamations, and poetry contests. I’d volunteer to read literature out loud in class. I wrote for the school magazine as a regular contributor. English teachers adored me.

I also picked up journaling as a kid. Of course, back then, I didn’t have a PC, and journaling wasn’t a glamourized self-care thing. But to me, it was an escape from the violent atmosphere at home — the constant screaming, fighting, and hitting, and the lonely life I led.

I wrote about almost everything — boring days at school, the girls who bullied me, the struggles of not making friends, the cute guy I crushed on, etc.

I wrote every single day, and my journal became my best friend.

All those years of Dear Rose were my way of staying sane as an anxious and traumatized teen.

During my college years was when I gave up writing to follow in the footsteps of my father. It may sound weird to some of you. Still, the truth is that almost every Asian kid struggles with controlling parents who’d rather take a life-altering decision to please society versus prioritizing their happiness.

Five long years of law school sucked the soul out of my body. I felt like a well-programmed robot. Not only did my grades drop, but I also lost interest in life. I had nothing to look forward to and fell deep into a black hole.

Since then, dealing with my depression has been a constant struggle.

I have done things I’m not proud of — hasty decisions that have left me dealing with the extreme consequences for the rest of my life. Of course, I regret all of it. But I don't blame myself.

I wasn’t myself — haven’t been, lately.

Every single day started with something I could never escape from.

I felt stuck.

My days would start with arguments and end with fights. Piled-up frustration would later affect my work. I knew I couldn’t keep living the same way.

And so, I googled for peaceful ways to die. A way that inflicts minimum pain with fast results. The suffering must not last long. The first was to suffocate with the help of a plastic bag. Easy right? Wrong! The moment you start losing breath is the moment your stop applying pressure to suffocate yourself. It’s a reflex mechanism.

The second way was to jump from a great height that guarantees death when you fall on the ground or water. I’d have just ended up with a fracture had I jumped from the second floor of my flat, and that would have been even worse. Due to the lockdown, I’d not even be allowed to travel to a hilly region.

Bad Idea. Who knew killing myself would be hella complicated?

Frustrated, I picked up an old diary and started pouring out my thoughts. Initially, it was so hard even to write everything. No words came out. The fear of what if someone reads it in my absence? Well, they wouldn’t care anyway.

A broken home gave birth to a broken soul. I’d seen everything a child shouldn’t while growing up. I’d known how it feels to be neglected, hurt, and unloved. I’d witnessed the worst abuse. I’d got beaten black and blue for small mistakes, apparently because that’s how parenting is in my country.

I’d failed at forming healthy romantic relationships — always attracting the abusers, manipulators, and broken ones just like myself. I was emotionally drained.

So, I wrote till I was done venting — till my tears were dry. Then, for the very first time in about five years, I felt lighter.

Damn, why did I stop writing?

. . . . .

Looking back a few days later, I'm so proud of the fact that I dared to quit the career I loathed with all my heart. You see, I’m a creative personality, and my brain cannot function in a dictated 9 to 5 corporate slavery system. Which anyway, is a scam to get quality work done on minimum wage, saving enough to afford a bypass surgery by the time you retire.

However, resuming to write after a long pause felt like starting something from scratch. The fact that I’ve never really written for an audience on the Internet makes me anxious every single time I’ve wanted to pour my heart out in words. And this has been stopping me from writing altogether.

I’m someone who craves perfection. And I know there are tons of others who struggle with the same. My brain tells me — Huh! You're going to fail, so why even start anything new?

Overthinking is a creativity killer. The fact that I'm not an expert at something seems greater than the thought of starting small to get there. Comparison kills my ability to hit publish (thanks to my typical Indian parents who constantly compared me to others).

Honestly, taking action is hard when you're struggling with mental health.

My anxious-ass personality has imprisoned me in my own body.

On another note, I’m grateful that writing saved my life and gave me a purpose.

Even though I'm still horrified by the idea of producing sales content with basic SEO knowledge, however, I’m aware of the urgent need to find stable ways to monetize my writing career and make enough to move out of my parent’s house.

At present, I’m taking every single day as a challenge to prove my worth to myself. I want to be happy again. But, I also want to be a published author just like the ones I’ve read in my teens and wondered if one day I had my name on a novel.

Family
Like

About the Creator

Ziva Lane

23// Accidental Lawyer //Part-time writer full-time disappointment to my parents.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.