Bleeding Soul

By: Nek Hickmon

Nek Hickmon & P. Serenity & Shanice Swint & Cherice Harris & Quardeay & Angela Miller



A Suicide Depression Anthology




Nyomi’s Story

By: Nek Hickmon



I often wonder how things would be if I disappeared. How would my kids hold up? How would my husband cope without his rib? Would people miss me? Would they be mad if I took my own life? I don't know how much more I can bear?

Living life depressed and stressed is not how I had planned it. What if God is punishing me for something I’ve done? I feel as if I’m losing my mind. Every day I wake up and I want to die. Not because of what someone else has done to me, but because I feel like a failure. I feel like I try so hard to do right and live right but the bad keeps winning. What can I do to ease this pain? There’s nothing left to do but to end it all. I know someone will say this a selfish way to go out, but what they don't know is how many nights I’ve cried tears because I wasn't able to be the mother I wanted to be. How many nights I stressed because I’ve been done wrong too many times. They don't understand the pain of living in a world that seems so perfect, yet it's not. I’ve reached my breaking point.

“Lord forgive me as I do this. I’m sorry if I disappointed you Lord, but you told me you give your toughest battles to your strongest soldiers but this I can't do this anymore,” I said as I picked up the metal blade.

It wasn't that I was trying to run from my responsibilities or life, it’s just that I was tired of living. At just 30 years old people would think I have the perfect life, but I don't. Yes, I have kids and a husband that goes above and beyond for us, but I’m very unhappy. I have been like this for a while. I tried to fight that demon that was telling me if I just cut a little deeper this time, I would be at peace.

See, I’ve always been a cutter. I’ll just pinch here and there to get a rush from the pain. When I met my husband about 12 years ago, I stopped. He knows all about my past and accepts me for who I am. Yes, I stop cutting when I got with him because those were the happier times, but in the last year we’ve fallen. We lost our original home when he lost his job. We had to downgrade to a smaller house and a regular car, but I was okay with that. Money doesn't make me happy. As long as I have my family together, I’m good. But lately, I’ve been having the feeling of losing myself in the role of being the perfect mother and wife.

I stood up to look in the mirror. My face wasn’t looking the same. I could see the depression in my eyes. From the outside looking in, you would think I was the happy go lucky type but in reality, I was far from it. I mean, I had my moments where I was happy and felt relief but then there were the moments where I felt weak and helpless. Just when I was about to cut the very vain that was peeking out at me, I heard my baby cry on the baby monitor. Her little voice opened my eyes to reality.

"I’m coming mama’s baby," I yelled as I stood on my tippy toes and put the blade in my hiding spot.

I walked into my girls’ room and baby Paris was screaming at the top of her lungs. I felt her and she was a little bit wet. I changed her diaper and changed her undershirt. I held my baby close and patted her back. I went into the kitchen and fixed her a bottle and held her as I fed her.

Paris is the baby out of my bunch. She's the four month old. I also have a three year old son named Christopher and a ten year old daughter named Fallen. I had a lot on me at times but I wouldn’t trade my family for anything in the world. After I fed Paris I put her down in her baby seat so I could clean up the house before the other kids got home from school and my husband got home from work. I was listening to some jazz music, I needed to clear my mind and for some reason Paris always kept quiet when I played that.

After a few hours, I was done cleaning and cooking. I had at least an hour break before Christopher got off the pre-K bus and Fallen come in from elementary school. I decided to watch TV while I held Paris. This is exactly what I do every day, it's like a never-ending cycle. After I got Paris down for another nap, I walked into my bedroom, laid across the bed, and thought about life. How did I get to this point? I was always angry and I hated it. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I had to do something for me but it's like every time I got the courage to do anything for myself, I backed out. Did becoming a mother make me lose who I am? I don't regret my kids, but at times I wish I would've waited. What if I hadn’t fallen in love so early? What would I be doing with my life? At this point, who knows?

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