This is the forty-first edition of The i’Mpossible Project: A series where anyone can share a personal story of inspiration or an event in life where they overcame tremendous odds. Everyone has a powerful story to tell and something to teach the world. (See HERE for guidelines on how you can write for The i’Mpossible Project.) Here we have Ned with The Story of A Young Man’s Need to End it All: A Tale of Survival
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During the
middle of senior year of college, I felt like I had reached a happiness peak ten
times the size of Hindu Kush. Speaking of Kush, I was smoking all the time, as
much as fifteen times a day. I would smoke before every class, workday, workout,
and before most other activities. I constantly smoked my medicine, and if I
didn’t have my medicine, I felt as if I wouldn't be able to maintain this heightened
level of living. For about a year, there wasn't a single day that I didn't
smoke, and I was happy as a clam. But as the end of senior year approached,
everything changed.
Though I was
completely caught off guard by the dramatic change in my mood, the deep depression
that hit had its predecessors. My first depression was triggered by breaking up
with my girlfriend of a year or so, my first major relationship. That time, I
thought about swerving into traffic and crashing my car, but never acted on it.
My second major depression came two years later. Its trigger: a reverse culture
shock from coming back to school after an amazing semester abroad. I remember Googling
ways I could kill myself, but again, never acted on it. I still don't know what
triggered my worst depression that spring, but I can guarantee that my medicine
(weed) wasn't working anymore. I even experimented with going without smoking,
but it didn't work for me. I started to get weird and uncomfortable, even around
my best friends.
The Day of the Jump
I went to
sleep hoping not to wake up then had to deal with the fact that my wish didn't
come true. I remember some of the fragmented thoughts and feelings I had after classes
that day: scattered brain; nap; beached whale feeling; dead brain; dead?
Wouldn’t that be nice? It had to end. And it had to end soon.
And so, that
night, after five margaritas and a personally provoked epic fight with my
girlfriend, I drove to the bridge notorious for the suicides it hosts. I pulled
over, got out of the car and high jumped over the bridge’s highest point. I’d
been thinking about this jump for a month, but the alcohol and screaming match
gave me the guts to go for it.
The last
thing I remember was my hat flying off as I leapt into the darkness.
My next
sketchy memory is the glare of the spotlight on me all torn up. I survived.
“Shit.” Apparently, I’d swum to a rock. A Herculean feat, they told me. “You
must have had the will to live. You’re lucky you’re a strong athlete,” they
told me. Nine out of ten people die from that jump. The survivors are usually
mangled and severally disabled.
In the
hospital, family and friends visited every day. They spent days and nights by
my side. I was never alone. The man in the bed next to mine, who’d also tried
to kill himself, had no visitors. He only had the 24/7 nurse watching him. Her
job was to make sure neither of us tried to hurt ourselves while we were there.
Once I was
released from the medical floor, they committed me to a psych ward for seventy-two
hours—state law. It was heart wrenching being surrounded by sick mental people who
lived in the mental hospital mumbling to themselves and screaming. They had
nobody to love them or take care of them. I, on the other hand, had my family
visiting every day, tirelessly advocating on my behalf, bringing me magazines and
showering me with love.
From Surviving to Thriving
The three years
since the jump have had their bumps. My body has recovered like a champ (a
miracle) but healing my mind was not as easy. As the depression lifted, I had a
bad reaction to medication, which precipitated a bizarre mania. I was out of
control. The mania led me to another stay in a psych ward for several weeks, again
with my family visiting every day. As the cloud lifted with medication
adjustments and an amazing therapist, my life slowly returned to normal—a new normal.
For the last
two years, I’ve cautiously worked my way off my medicines (with the guidance of
my psychiatrist and psychologist) and am on a very low dose now. I received my
diploma and eventually landed a great job. I moved in with my best friend from
college in a city filled with a lot of family.
I do morning
workouts, I go on business and pleasure trips, I spend weekends with my
favorite people, I see my family often, and I try to be kind and compassionate
to others. People now, like before the jump, see me as my normal charming and successful
self. Little do they know that if I’d had my way three years ago, my family
would still be in mourning and I would not get to enjoy each amazing day that
is my life today.
I always
knew I was lucky in my life before the jump but never did I know I would hit a
jackpot worth 7,669 days, representing twenty-one years of my life that did not
go down the ocean’s drain. For those of you reading this who want to disappear
or die (or know someone who does), please take it from me: Don’t cut this life
short. It will surprise you in amazing ways that you simply can’t see right
now. If you hang in there, life will come around. You will not only grow from
the pain, you will probably flourish. Each day will taste that much sweeter. It
feels good to beat an illness.
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If
you are someone you know are feeling suicidal, please call 1-800-273-8255. If
outside the U.S., find a helpline HERE
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Why is this "The i’Mpossible Project?"
Inspired by Josh Rivedal's book and one-man show The Gospel According to Josh: A 28-Year Gentile Bar Mitzvah. Gospel (non-religious) means "Good News" and Josh's good news is that he's alive, and thriving, able to tell his story and help other people.
On his international tour with his one-man show, he found incredible people who felt voiceless or worthless yet who were outstanding people with important personal stories waiting to be told. These personal stories changed his life and the life of the storyteller for the better.
Josh's one-man show continues through 2015 and beyond and he is looking for people in all walks of life, online and offline, to help give them a voice and share their stories with the world.
