Hi Tricia!: Tricia's Weekly Favorite Secret Roundup: See a Secret...Share a Secret

This week's roundup has inspired me to send one in. Adriene are you ready?

See a Secret...Share a Secret:

(PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.)

-----Original Message-----

Sent: Wednesday, March 22, 2006 12:13 PM

To: Frank@docdel.com

Frank,

The card that was posted this week, about the woman just approaching her 26th birthday and how she has faced so many problems, heartbreaks and pain for one so young, made me weep. I wasn't crying for her, but rather because she is showing such inner beauty and strength that I felt empowered by her and the fact that she chose to share her secret(s).

I have problems too, but if I could come to the same realization as her and become happy with who I am, I would be a stronger person. And I am approaching my 47th birthday........!

-Ottawa

-----Original Message-----

Sent: Thursday, March 16, 2006 9:52 AM

To: Frank@docdel.com

Subject: thank you

Frank,

This past Friday night I found myself in a black hole of depression and I didn't know how I was going to make it through the night. Not knowing where to turn and feeling like I couldn't stop. I remembered seeing the Hopeline phone number in the front of your book. I talked with someone there for 2 and a half hours and I truly feel that they saved my life.

Thank you for the book, thank Hopeline for being there, and thank the people that send in their postcards so that others know they are not alone with their secrets.

-Casie (with permission)

-----Original Reply-----

Sent: Saturday, March 18, 2006 12:42 PM

From: Frank@docdel.com

Dear Casie,

Thank you for sharing your inspiring story.

Like you, I have felt hopeless at times too. During those moments it’s important to remember that there is always someone, a family member, friend, or stranger on a phone line who cares and is willing to listen.

I find it so moving to hear from people like you who look back on the dark and painful times in their lives and are thankful that they did not kill themselves. However, in America, we do not often hear stories like yours. People rarely talk about suicide.

For every homicide committed in the US, two people kill themselves, but you will not see that truth reflected in national newspapers or on the local television news. Suicide is America’s Secret.

Casie, I am sure that your story has not just inspired me. I hope others, like you, will find the help that is waiting and share their stories too.

Be well,

-Frank

-----Original Message-----

Sent: Sunday, March 19, 2006 5:44 AM

To: frank@docdel.com

Subject: I would like to share my story and a picture too.

Frank,

The feelings of sadness, loneliness, darkness, and worthlessness are confusing and heartbreaking. As a successful college student and athlete with a loving family and loving friends, I was ashamed that I wasn’t happy. Worst of all, nobody could understand how much pain I was in.

My friend tried to get me to see a therapist. He tried to get me to tell my parents. I couldn’t do it. I was ashamed. I fell deeper and deeper into this darkness of sadness that surrounded me. I didn’t think it would end, that this hurt would last forever. That’s when the suicide contemplation started. I thought it was the only way out. Nothing else could possibly make this pain go away.

My friend asked if I was contemplating suicide. I would have never told him if he hadn’t asked. He told me I wasn’t alone. I didn’t believe him. I thought I was crazy, and no one else could feel like this. That’s when he told me his secret. Years ago, before we met, he took a razor to his wrists. It was then that he realized he wasn’t ready to give up. He bandaged his wounds and decided not to die. Other people do feel like I do. It took his secret to show me that. I’m not alone. It’s not shameful. It’s real, and other people suffer. That was enough to change my mind. If he hadn’t specifically asked me if I had thoughts of killing myself, I wouldn’t have told him. He wouldn’t have shared his story and I wouldn’t be here.

This picture: Watching baby crabs on a beach in Thailand--one of the many things I was able to do, and never thought of, because I’m still here.

-M

-----Original Message-----

Sent: Wednesday, March 22, 2006 9:49 PM

To: Frank@docdel.com

Subject: A story with a picture

For seven years I have been dealing with depression. I was sexually abused when I was 8 and when I was 13. Inside my head I developed a voice that constantly told me how ugly, and stupid and worthless that I was. I was scared that my friends were only pretending to be my friends. I was scared that everyone was talking behind my back. I was pressuring myself to live up to what I thought my parents wanted me to be. When I finally had some one to talk to about it, he betrayed me and abandoned me. More and more, my own voice inside my head convinced me of my worthlessness. I thought about suicide hundreds of times. I figured that I wouldn't have to listen to that voice anymore. I have been cutting myself off and on for almost four years.

Last year was my junior year of high school. I was in several advanced classes and had been struggling to do well in them. I was still trying to live up to what I thought my parents wanted for me. But they saw the toll that it was taking on me. I was constantly fighting with them, ending in tears and confessions. This year has been the best that I have been for a long time. My parents let me drop one of my advanced classes and I do not even have a full schedule. They constantly tell me how proud of me they are, and how they just want me to be who ever I grow up to be. My friends tell me how much they love me. I have a boyfriend who knows about my past and is very supportive and understands how insecure I can be at times.

These people have helped me get through high school. These people have helped me start to be okay with myself. They know what I go through, and they support me with everything that they have. Their constant reassurances helped me realize that the voice no longer meant anything to me. It still affects me sometimes and cutting is always the first thing that comes to my mind, but I see their faces and I can put everything else out of my mind.

The picture I'm sending you is my senior picture for the yearbook.

I have a real smile on my face. Something that was rare in the first three years of high school.

-Cat (you can use my real name and picture on Postsecret if you want)