People Share The First Thought They Had When They Woke Up After A Suicide Attempt. Wow.

Suicide survivors of Reddit were asked: "What was your first conscious thought after you realized that you hadn't succeeded?" These are some of the most insightful answers.

1/27 "I can't even kill myself without f*cking it up."


2/27 "I want my mum and dad"


3/27 It took a while to have a conscious thought, I suppose from the seriousness of what had just happened. The first thing I thought, aside from the confusion and disbelief of still breathing was both "Godammit" and "This is what you get for forgetting to clean the goddamned gun."


4/27 I decided to hang myself with an extension cord in the rafters of my garage. I decided to do a quick test run to make sure the beam would hold before saying my goodbyes to my family. During the test run, I slipped off my chair and actually hung myself. The panic I felt during those few moments I was dangling was all it took to convince myself I should live. I needed desperately to tell my mother I loved her before I went. My father too. I could only think of getting out of it, so I could give them their well deserved goodbyes, and let them know how much I loved them.

When I luckily managed to get my footing back on the chair, I realized I wasn't ready to go. I had so much love left in me. I felt like it gave me a second chance to realize I didn't want to go through with it. I'm doing well now. I have two beautiful girls, and a man who would give me the moon. I'm happy I had a botched run, because I'm sure I wouldn't have realized how i really felt if I got to text my final goodbyes.


5/27 "F*ck, I have to get ready for school."


6/27 Basically, "Well, alright then." I had taken the whole bottle of my medication and laid in bed with my heart racing until I passed out. Woke up feeling like sh*t, but still alive. It wasn't an eye opening moment for me at the time, but I just kind of accepted that I guess I was supposed to keep going.

When I had the feelings again a couple years later, I decided to call a hotline with hopes that I could be talked out of it. It was a weird feeling to want to die and want to be talked out of wanting to die at the same time. Anyway, they talked me into calling the police on myself, who then took me to a psychiatric hospital for a 72 hour watch. While I was there, I met with a doctor who said I had been misdiagnosed my whole life and he put me on medication that actually worked for the first time.


7/27 "F*ck, i'm gonna have to go to the hospital."


8/27 Something along the lines of "What? How?"

I had hung myself and right after I had drifted off I suddenly took a quick breathe and I was wide awake again. I realized I had grabbed the rope and pulled myself up a little bit to allow me to take one small breathe. I then untied the rope and cried for a while before going to the hospital.

I still think about it a lot, because I felt like I had no strength, and couldn't imagine how I had managed enough to pull myself up, outside of consciousness nonetheless. I just tell myself now that I was saved for a reason, and I have to figure it out. Keeps me from trying again.


9/27 I was a teenager. I woke up and immediately wondered what day it was, why it didn't work, and then I checked to see if I had vomited the medication. I felt sick so I went upstairs and discovered that three days had gone by, I was poofy, and my father hadn't noticed that I was you know, not exactly alive or okay. He didn't even know if I was in the house.

I moved out on my own not long after. I was 16. I did not regret trying and I did not vow never to do it again. I just got on with it. I felt sick for days.


10/27 "I can't do anything right"


11/27 Not so much a thought, more the realization that my mother wasn't upset because I had just tried to kill myself but was angry because the rope had dug deeply into the ceiling rafter and ruined the paint before it snapped.


12/27 "Oh thank God."


13/27 I've had many attempts in the past but the one that suck with me the most was: "NO NO NO NO NO NO. I have to get out of here. I can't do this. I have to leave before anybody finds me awake. Maybe I can make it outside and throw myself in front of a car."

I just remember how absolutely desperate I was to die at that point. Like an animal backed into a corner I was terrified. I attempted by drug overdose so my body was still shut down. I was able to rip out my IV before a swarm of nurses came to hold me down. I was screaming at the top of my lungs and fighting as hard as a could (which honestly wasn't all that much). I was willing to hurt these people who were trying to help me just so I could go kill myself.

Sometimes people don't realize how deep a person falls to reach the point of wanting to kill themselves.


14/27 "I guess my paper is still due"


15/27 "F*ck I'm still here"

I almost don't want to share this because I don't know if it's helpful for people who are going through it right now. But I've seen and read so many accounts of people who changed their mind when it seemed to be too late, or realized all their problems were insignificant once they were almost dead. But that didn't happen to me.

When I started vomiting blood and bile, all I could think was "I really hope I'm not throwing up the pills right now". I also felt disgusting and ashamed, but I didn't want to live and I didn't change my mind. When I woke up I was covered in blood (some from vomit, but a lot from my arms and legs which I'd absolutely shredded with a blade.) there was sick all over the floor and in my hair, and my clothes and face were wet with tears. I was a mess, and I felt like I'd f*cked up my life in every possible way, and I have never felt so disappointed or disgusted with myself than when I properly realized it hadn't worked.

And honestly I would've loved that to be a wake up call or the moment I changed, but it wasn't. I felt that same disgust for some years afterwards. To me, that was confirmation that I'd never be happy, and that I'd never settle into life in the way that everyone else seemed to. I just accepted that I'd never be happy, and that I'd never stop wanting to die. I can't really explain why I thought this. I just believed there was something inherently wrong with me, an illness, or something about who I am as a person, which meant I would always feel suicidal.

If I could go back and meet this younger version of myself, I would give her such a huge hug. But I don't really know what I would tell her. I don't know what it was that made everything finally click. I don't know what is happening in my brain now that wasn't happening then. I think I just finally realized that it's down to me. Of course you can't think your way out of depression, but you can learn how to cope with it better, and eventually how to combat it. Over time I completely changed my attitude. Depression still plagued me, it was still there in my head, but I found ways to make it quieter, and ways to make it hurt less. Very, very, slowly, I even found ways to be happy. I realised that my happiness was my responsibility, and I couldn't just sit there waiting for depression to leave me.


16/27 That I would never try it again. Years later, I want to try again anyway.


17/27 I don't want to tell my parents.

I was terrified of them knowing. I was so ashamed of what I'd done. But I had this huge relief that I hadn't succeeded. I did tell my parents, and they were incredibly loving and supportive.


18/27 Knew I would have to call someone to take me to the hospital to stitch up my wrists. Contemplated the shame I was about to experience doing that. Let the realization that I was a failure even in trying to kill myself wash over me.

That was a long time ago and I couldn't be happier I failed. The scars do cause me embarrassment, though.


19/27 "Eh, guess it didn't work. Oh well, I should shower."

I had planned and made my preparations. I tried to overdose and set messages up so that I would not be rotting... took the pills and laid down. Woke up the next day and this was my first thought. Guess it was a sign that I was not meant to die.

Friends did get the messages though and it started a lot of stuff. They called the cops on me later and then I got kicked off campus because the dean didn't want a death on campus and felt I was high risk. Yeah, thanks. Have not attempted since.


20/27 Honestly? My first thought was how much Nickelback f*cking sucks.

It was playing on the radio when I finally came to, and even after everything else, Nickelback f*cking sucks.


21/27 Well I had attempted to hang myself when I was 15. I have a birth defect (deformed legs) and just couldn't take the bullying anymore. So I got myself all strung up by a belt stuck in the door jam of my closet, stood up on a stool, and tried to get the courage to knock the stool over.

Then I accidentally knocked the stool over. I hanged for about fifteen seconds, just long enough to make things start to go black. And then the cheap plastic belt I was using broke.

I hit the ground and just yelled out loud "OH F*CK" because 1. The belt broke and I was still here, and 2. Thank god the belt broke and I was still here.


22/27 "You know what, that was a pretty dumb idea. F*ck this, I'm going to start fighting."


23/27 "F*ck why did they have to call my parents." Woke up in the hospital handcuffed to a bed with a horrible headache but the worst part was the drama and attention my parents brought to the whole thing. If I could have chosen I would have just spent the week in the hospital with no one knowing and gone back to normal life after.


24/27 "Not like this"

I became conscious in the ER. I still wanted to die, just not in a hospital in a traumatic atmosphere. I had taken paracetamol (too many to count) and had fallen unconscious after vomiting all over myself. My heart rate was dangerously low and my respiration was not ideal.

After I came to consciousness, I accepted all treatment just so I could get out. Now I float round everyday, waiting for the ideal time to try again.


25/27 "Oh thank God."

I had suddenly realized that I wasn't ready to die just yet. When my hands were shaking so badly from the drug withdrawal that I couldn't even tie the noose, I was so glad I was incapable of killing myself. It felt like God was saving me because I couldn't trust myself to keep myself alive at that point.

That was almost seven years ago. I'm so glad I'm still here.


26/27 Pretty much along the lines of "Well sh*t. I'm not dead". And then spending the rest of the day real pissed off and in tons of pain. Except the last time I tried in February, I was relieved when I woke up. Maybe that's a good sign but I still want to die in general.


27/27 "What the f*ck??"

I put a revolver to my head and pulled the trigger but the round never went off. And yes I made sure it all worked before I tried. I proceeded to try two more times, none of the rounds ever went off. I still am near broke, still have debt that cant get paid, have no job currently, and almost no food left. I'll never understand why the rounds never went off, but I'm glad they didn't despite the fact right now my life hasn't gotten any easier. The gun is gone now, and so are the rounds.



We are told that, if you're not confident, you should just "fake it til you make it."

This is great--in theory. In practice, sometimes "faking it" can have extremely real and terrible consequences, which these people found out the hardest of hard ways.

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