Surviving Suicide

Here lately I have been connecting with a lot of Spirits who have committed suicide. I get questions such as "are they in hell?" Or "are they suffering?" I always explain how that souls shows me how they are handling their death. My job isn't always easy, especially since suicide hits so close to home.  

  June 16th, 2012 I attempted suicide. Yes, that is correct. I attempted to kill myself. Before I rehash through that day and dark time in my life let me explain a little from what I have learned from spirit. No, you do not go to "hell" in in condemnation terms. You CAN go to "hell" on your own terms, but you have the choice to heal yourself and turn back to God. Hell is not a torturous place, but it seemed more like a black and lonely place. Now before you think "heal myself? That's easy!" No it really isn't. When you kill yourself, that pain does not just escape. You still hurt. You still have lessons to learn and the biggest lesson for most suicide souls is learning to love yourself. It can take several years or even decades for a soul to fully love themselves, but that does not mean they are in a bad place at all. They can be happy over in heaven while still in the healing process because heaven has many layers. Now with that being said, lets get on to my darker days and how I survived suicide. 

My depression does not begin in 2012, but it began in 2008 when I was the age of 12. My Papa had something called pulmonary fibrosis, and he was on hospice. Being that I was so young, I did not understand that he was dying. Because his immune system was so weak, he ended up with a cold that turned into pneumonia very quickly. I remember my mom getting a phone call from my Nanny and she started to rush us in the car to go see Nanny and Papa who lived a good 45min away. When we got there I had no idea what was going on other than my mom had said Papa was sick and we had to see him. When I walked into the door there were so many people there. My Papa was sitting in his recliner sleeping. Everyone was crying, and I still did not understand. I just kneeled in front of my Papa and kept telling him that I loved him, but I was not getting a response. My Nanny told me that he could not hear me, but I was NOT going to give up on my Papa. I just sat there and repeated myself and he came out of his coma and  said "I love you too baby" and he went back to sleep. Those were the last words my Papa ever spoke to anyone.  

Before my Papa passed away, my mom made me go to sleep in my Nanny and Papa's bed. I did not want to go, but my mom made me. It was about 2 in the morning when my mom and Nanny came and got me out of bed. One at each arm walking me down the hall. When we passed my Papa's chair, he was gone and I could feel my stomach turning. I knew, but I asked anyway "where is Papa?" And I was told "its okay." They led me outside into the front yard and both grabbed my arms and my Nanny told me that my Papa had died. I screamed as loud as I could and I tried to push back because all I wanted to do was run away, but they held me and hugged me tighter as I just screamed. That is when my whole world came crashing down. My Papa was my world, and I his.  

I could feel him around me. I could feel him touch my arm and hug me. It brought slight comfort, but it still did not fill that empty hole in my heart. I remember that I could see him driving away in a semi truck as he told me goodbye, but I did not want him to go. And he didn't. You see, he would talk to me. When I would go stay the night with my Nanny I could hear him walking up and down the halls, open cabinets, and he would come and whisper in my ear. But no one else could hear this. Just me. This became my normal, although I was still heartbroken because I did not understand it. I began to tell everyone about how my Papa would talk to me, and I instantly got shut down by everyone. I pushed out the most beautiful part of me, my gift. 

I developed depression and severe anxiety. I would have anxiety attacks, and would feel like I couldn't breath around certain people. I never understood this, I would just panic. I developed something called trichotillomania (pulling my hair out). I secluded myself to my bedroom most of the time and the depression just got worse over time. It didn't just happen overnight, but over 4 years. My first two years of high school were spent at Mount St. Mary Catholic High School. It was a very small school that had maybe 300 students, our class was the largest having 79 students. By the time I was a sophomore we already had two suicides.

I was on anti-depressant after anti-depressant. None helped. I had a back injury and was put on medication for that as well. Nothing could help me. I was starting to hit rock bottom. Then June 12th my two best friends turned on me and bullied me. It was excruciating. The only two people who were my friends completely turned on me. They sent me harassing messages as well as had several other people messaging me. All of this because I told them I thought a boy was cute. That boy happened to be someone one of them had dated. I felt like I had no one and no where to go. I felt worthless and like I did not deserve to live. I just wanted to go to sleep forever. I overdosed on my whole bottle of anti-depressants and pain killers. I swallowed them, through the bottles in the floor and crawled in bed. My mom came in and found me crying myself to sleep and the pill bottles in the floor. She rushed me to the ER where they tried to make me drink Charcoal mixed with Dr. pepper - I could not drink Dr. Pepper for years afterwards.. I couldn't do it, so they had to stick a tube into my nose which went into my stomach where the nurse pushed the charcoal in. It was the worst night of my life. Part of me died that night, but I heard this voice whisper to me "you are alive because you have a bigger purpose." I had no idea what was in store for me.

After that, I had to go through intense therapy that I hated. I did not want to open up to some therapist, who was a stranger to me. I refused. My mom finally took me to Dr. Lou who was a homeopathic doctor, and he saved me. I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. My serotonin levels were at a 40, and after being put on a natural serotonin supplement for a few weeks it had shot to 4,000! Not good, Dr. Leu had had 4 people in his 10yr of practice (at the time) do that. We had to get all my vitamins and chemicals in balance and I had not been depressed since until my first pregnancy but it was no where near as bad as this depression I had experienced. I had to learn to find myself and love who I am. I still had an empty hole that needed to be filled, but never knew what it was. 

When I met Matt, I had just left my previous boyfriend for cheating. I was strong, and my rusty intuition re-opened up in that moment.  I knew Matt was special, but I did not know how special. Later on I found out I was pregnant (through vivid dreams). The depression through this pregnancy was different. It was more of a "what do I do now" depression. I started to question Whether or not God was real. I became a "Facebook Christian" and started judging others. I felt extremely uncomfortable in church. I was starting to go downhill. Finally I told God "If you are really there, I need you to send me a sign." Well that night, Mary the other of Jesus came to me in a dream and I just cried. I told her every sin that I had every committed and told her I did not want to go to hell. She just smiled and sad "none of that matters, because God loves you no matter what. You just need to find him again." And I found him alright, and myself. After that, I had spirits for everyone I knew coming to me in dreams and I found myself relaying spirits messages that way. I couldn't believe it, so I joined groups of other mediums and I started giving readings to people that way. 

I kept my gift secret for a while, because I was scared of what they would say again. This time I understood my gift. I knew I was talking to the dead. I accepted this gift with open arms and I told God that if its his will, then make it his way. He has blessed me tremendously. I have been in the local paper numerous of times, on the local news channel, etc. I have given my gift to many and I could not be any happier. Accepting my gift as who I am filled that empty hole. I survived suicide. I am a survivor. A warrior. I have found my purpose.


If you are feeling depressed, just remember that you have a purpose. You may not know what it is in this moment, but trust me, it will evolve.  

If you are feeling suicidal, please seek professional help. This is just my own personal experience and should not be taken as professional advice. The National Suicide Lifeline phone number is 1-800-273-8255

Suicide is not the option.  

Jacqueline Harrington