Abby's Open Diary

If you or someone you know is considering suicide or self-harm, please consider reaching out to a suicide and/or crisis lifeline. (List of suicide crisis lines - Wikipedia)

An idea had been plaguing my mind for a couple of days now. I want to share my suicide note, here, online, on my website, for everyone to see.

Yes, you've read that right.

I attempted suicide. That was a couple of months ago, during last summer.

It was going to be by hanging from my balcony. Not a pretty sight... thankfully the crisis hotline I texted managed to calm me a bit and stir me away before any real damage could be done.

I guess this is my "I lived bitch" moment. And I'm proud of it. Really proud.

This begs the question... Why am I then sharing this online, the equivalent of screaming on a megaphone on loop to the whole freaking world? Well, because I lived, and I'm fucking proud of that.

There was a lot weighing down, much more than just what my parents thought "I didn't get into my dream school after intense studying for two years". Sure, I had high expectations just like every classmate at my ultra-competitve cram school, and sure, I was disappointed. Academic burn-out played a big role too. I'm not denying it. It's perfectly reasonable to think that it contributed to my poor mental health.

But, there were other things too, like "I can never come out as queer here in my community, my chance to go to an accepting college campus just evaporated before my eyes and I'm responsible for it" with a sprinkle of self-hate, gender dysphoria, shame, guilt and religious trauma.

Now I won't be sharing my suicide note, that would be too depressing. And as much as it would be extremely validating of my past suffering and it will help me coming in terms with it, I'll share what I personally call my "living" note. Everything that makes this life worth it to me. Ironically enought, In fact, they both serve the same purpose: coming out to the world about who I really am. The main difference, is on one, I gave up... and on the other, well, I lived... two faces of the same coin, really.

Much like what I discussed on my earlier non-binary coming out open diary entry, I have been a rough phase with contradicting identites. A lot of them. And no matter how much crazy mental gymnastics I was trying to pull out to balance them, it just didn't make any sense.

At my small conservative Muslim hometown school, adults and kids alike, were sometimes awfully openly antisemitic, saying horrible things like "Hitler did us a good job getting rid of Jews!" and some even sympathized with islamic terrorism domestically and internationally stating shit like "they had it coming" or "that was self-defense". And to them, if word about my USAmerican identity came out, I'd be in immediate danger. Since harassing me would be considered an act of vaillant bravery against the Kuffar (non-believers) and the "sins" of the United States of America, what has came known for some as offensive Jihad. Of course, not every muslim believed that, but those who did didn't hide it since there were no repercussions, and it made me hypervigilant and wary of my surroundings. Growing up I felt unsafe.

Obviously, I've learnt to keep secrets. But that wasn't the only secret.

You see, since elementary school, I knew I was gay... I knew it before at 10 and then I knew the word for it at 13. (Of course, throughout the years my identity shifted. I am now a sapphic asexual.) Back then, I was in love with the prettiest and smartest girl of class. How did I know? I just knew. And I knew it from the bottom of my heart. And those feelings persisted even until high school, for years. Heck, I was completely heart broken when our friendship ended and we parted ways. I drew and wrote lots of comics and stories featuring girls mourning their forbidden love. Obviously, they never saw the light of day. Because, well, if you didn't know, homosexuality is a major sin in Islam, punished by death. Just like apostasy.

I had a really rough religious phase in middle school where I tried to "pray the gay away". Of course, that didn't help. I couldn't understand why Allah, the God who made me imperfect, tortured me amongst the living and condemned to eternal torture in the after-life. During that religoius phase, I'd pray Dhuhr, the noon prayer, then during Islamic Education class I'd scribble two girls lovingly hugging each other while I gaze dreamily at the beautiful angel sitting in the front row. Thinking of how pretty her lips were, and how beautifully her clothes hugged her shape, and how she gently tapped the ground with her sneakers when she was focused on the chalk board, reading the Quran verses the teacher wrote.

My life has always felt like a contradiction. Of what it "should be" and what I "am".

I never really believed in Islam, and when I did, it was out of fear with half-hearted conviction. Because "everyone around me was believing it, so it must be right and I should be doing the same too" and "it would be really awful if I upset Allah and end up eternally tortured". There were awful lot of questions that were either unanswered or their answer left me perplex and unsatisfied, and it didn't help that doubting Islam was frowned upon in my community. A lot of Islamic teachings were in direct contradiction with the values I believed and stood for. And no matter how much I tried to reconcile my faith with my values, it was inescapable that I had to let down the former to live my full authentic life.

I know that as a queer ex-muslim, I am putting myself at risk coming out publicly like that. But after seeing the other side, when I was so close to death, I no longer want to live in fear. I want to live a life worth living. I no longer want to coward and conceal parts of my identity. I made so many compromises. This time, the choice is mine. This is my living note.