When I was nine, I tried to take my own life. As a kid, I was left alone a lot. I grew up in the late 80s in a blighted neighborhood---the kind of place, where robbery and assault were normal to witness. Kids were seldom, even though I lived a block away from a library and a few blocks away from a school.
I was largely left in the care of my grandparents, who treated me like an adult. I vividly recall, the time my grandmother told me, my grandfather was having an affair. It was as if, she was talking to her peer. Although my mother and I have a good relationship now, what I know and remember of her at that time is foggy.
What I do remember is my grandmother and her would fight viscously, with me right in the middle. And when she would leave for awhile, my grandmother would try to turn me against her by calling her evil and constantly saying I was abandoned by her. Not exhaustive, but a general gist of my enviroment at home.
I don't recall how exactly I ended up in that bathroom, drinking household cleaners underneath the sink. I don't even remember the feelings, I must have had felt to get to that point. I do remember, on the other side of that locked door, my grandparents calling for me to open it. I can still hear the hard knocks as they attempted to get in. I must have did something to make them aware of what was happening. I recall gray skies and feeling cold after they made there way inside.
A lot of that moment is lost to me. Like a lot of my memories from my childhood. My family has never talked about that day, ever. I believe they thought it was an accident.
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from Quora http://ift.tt/2eTAMmA
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