The Anatomy of My Survival

From the Glitch to the Light

Content Warning: The following text discusses experiences with depression, past suicide attempts, and domestic violence. Please prioritize your emotional safety and read only if you feel grounded enough to do so.

A Note Before You Read

Watching After.Life (2009) was supposed to be just a movie night, but it ended up triggering the raw story of the two times I almost ended my own life.

I am sharing this story exactly as it flowed out of me. You will find mistakes, but I believe the truth is more important than perfect grammar. This is my raw, unedited journey from the “Glitch” back to life.

19 Years Old: The Crash and the Ghost of Guilt

The story begins when I was 19, when I tried to take my life for the first time. It happened after a car accident caused by some reckless kids who didn’t yield or slow down at an intersection. My best friend died at the wheel, and his fiancée was left paralyzed.

During the accident, I had been sleeping in the back seat because I always experienced motion sickness and would often vomit, so I slept to avoid it. When the bang woke me up, I saw my best friend in a state that made me realize he was gone. My leg was stuck between the seats, but I managed to move closer to his fiancée and talk to her until help arrived.

The Unveiling: A Childhood of Shadows

That was the moment when everything from my childhood began to reveal itself. After the accident, I kept returning to memories of my father beating me whenever I got low grades, and of my mother, who would tell on me and manipulate me, saying no one loves you more than your own parents and that “everyone was beaten growing up.”

My mother repeatedly told me stories of how she used to do childish things when she was a child; like throwing eggs in the yard or giving the milk meant for sale to the cats, and she was beaten by her father for those acts. Similarly, my father, back when he was a child, had always been sent for milk from his grandparents (in the next village) and beaten if he stayed to play football with the other children or didn’t finish his chores by dawn by his father, after being told on by his mother.

The Gilded Cage: Accounting and “The Beatings for My Own Good”

During that period, I was working as an assistant manager and testing accounting software for PCs, everything my mother wanted (an accountant “with something extra”). At the same time, I was in my second year at the University of Finance, Banking, and Stock Exchange, which my parents were paying for.

Before the accident, I had taken the entrance exam for Veterinary Medicine after a year of studying on my own. When I announced that I wanted to drop out of Finance, my father beat me until I peed myself. My mother reproached me, saying they had done so much for me and that I was the most ungrateful person on earth.

The First Attempt: The Hotel Room

All of this pushed me toward the decision to end everything the only way I thought possible at that moment. I obtained two bottles of sleeping pills, booked a hotel room, and prepared to do it.

I went into the bathroom and sat down on the floor. I took the pills, but something shifted in my mind after swallowing both bottles and being ready to down a bottle of tequila. I began thinking about the person who would find me, and how much trouble I would cause for those who would have to justify what I had done. So I forced myself to vomit until I felt like fainting.

I woke up covered in vomit, though I was sure I had reached the toilet. I cleaned up the bathroom, washed myself, washed my clothes, dried them with a hairdryer, and left.

The Descent: Addiction and the Search for Feeling

But the feeling didn’t go away, so I waited for the moment when I would find the most efficient method to finish what I had planned. I got a tattoo (my only tattoo): a dreamcatcher shaped like a flower with thorns and a butterfly, on my right thigh as a tribute to my lost friend. This tattoo also covers my appendectomy scar. It’s a site that holds a heavy memory: the night I was operated on, my mother didn’t believe I was truly ill until I collapsed at the foot of my parents’ bed. I remember being rushed straight into surgery upon arriving at the hospital, only to find out later that my appendix was on the verge of rupturing.

For a year, I thought about how and when to do it, but every time I looked at the tattoo, I remembered how much he mattered and how unfair it felt that he was gone while I was still here, breathing.

This is where the first crack in my “accountant façade” appeared: I started my sexual life and became addicted to sex just to feel something, though many times it didn’t help. I had relationships that lasted no more than three months, and they weren’t really relationships, just sex, with either women or men. It didn’t matter.

A Glimmer of Hope: The Camera and the Great Change

During one of my escapes, I met a photographer. I had always liked photography and played with his cameras whenever we met. When he saw what I could do, he suggested I try this path. That was the first thing that saved me; I dropped out of university and left my assistant manager job.

Years later, another turning point came, seven years ago, when something happened to my oldest child at kindergarten that shook me deeply. I started drinking daily just to cope and hide the fact that I felt like disappearing again, because I couldn’t protect what was most precious to me.

The Metro Station: The Mind’s Savior

I remember it vividly: I was at home with the two children when I picked up the phone, called my partner, and said I was leaving because I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt I had no reason to live.

I hung up, put the phone in my pocket, took my wallet, and left the house. I don’t remember much from that walk. I walked until I sat on a bench and felt the urge to smoke. I had smoked from age 15 to 25 until we decided to have children, but that day, I desperately wanted a cigarette. So I bought a pack and a coffee, I smoked until I felt dizzy, and finished the drink.

When I finally checked my phone, I saw missed calls and messages from my partner: “I am coming home”, “I called your mother to stay with the kids”, “Whatever happens, you are not alone, you have a place to return to”. Over the years those three messages became my anchor.

I kept walking until I reached the metro station. I paid for the ticket, entered, and sat on a bench on the platform. I wasn’t thinking; I was just waiting for the train.

The first train passed. I watched its speed, its stops, where people got on, and which door was most crowded.

The second train passed, and I realized I should stand near the entrance. I wanted to get up, but a little girl sat next to me and showed me her doll. Her mother said the grandmother had given it to her. The girl talked, the mother added details, and their story caught me.

I asked, “Do you like the doll because you wanted one, or because your grandmother gave it to you?”

She said her grandmother had made it, and that she was sick.

And then, without a word, I got up and left. I still don’t know why. Not even therapy has given me the answer.

The Reality of the “Glitch”: The Fabricated Escape

I walked home, went to the bedroom, lay down, and fell asleep. I don’t remember anything after that. I only know I began individual and couple’s therapy. That’s when I started writing those journals that eventually became books because writing what I truly felt was too much, too raw. At that moment, I was reading dark fantasy, and that’s why I started writing those journals as dark fantasy; it gave me a safe place to feel without collapsing.

The strangest part came when my therapist told me the truth about “the day”: there had been no little girl at the station. Every time she asked about her, the details changed. Sometimes it was a girl, sometimes a boy whose mother was lost when the metro doors closed. Sometimes it was my partner telling me to come home. Sometimes it was my children asking me to watch their favourite movie or play a game.

My mind had created someone, anyone, to bring me back when I was too numb to live.

Today: The Healer Who Survived

And today, I am here, able to write this. Even if no one had pulled me back from the edge, my survival instinct did. We are genetically programmed to survive, is in our DNA.

I survived my “dark passenger,” but not alone. I had professional help, my chosen family, and my partner’s mother. I found my reason to live when, after therapy, I enrolled in nursing college. I was finally doing what I always wanted, to become a healer. Not a veterinarian, as I had dreamed as a child, but someone who repairs wounds in people.

Later, after only six months working as a nurse, my right hand failed me. But I had already discovered psychology during the pandemic, so while I was in my third year of nursing college, I began my first year of psychology.

And that led me to today, appreciating the life I have. I will never try to stop this journey again. My choices are mine, my path is mine, and I walk it consciously.

What saved me was finding my purpose. I had many jobs in my life, but I didn’t give up. Jobs aren’t permanent, they helped me discover what I truly want. It’s like trying different cakes until I found my favorite.

Disclaimer

I am dyslexic, and I have chosen not to use Grammarly or Word editors. If there are mistakes, they don’t matter. What matters is that I can leave a trace on the internet for someone who might need it, someone who feels alone.

Please remember: there is always someone by your side. Maybe not someone close, but specialized help exists for those moments when you feel like ending your life.

You are not alone in the “Glitch.”

Resources for those in the “Glitch”:

​If you feel like you are at the edge, please remember that help is available globally.

You don’t have to carry this burden alone.

Global Resources for Support and Healing

If you or someone you know is struggling with abuse or mental health challenges, please reach out to these free, confidential, and professional services:

The National Domestic Violence Hotline (Global Access) While based in the US, their website offers extensive safety planning tools, educational articles, and a 24/7 chat service that can guide survivors globally on how to stay safe.

Chayn An award-winning global platform that provides multilingual resources, guides, and online courses for survivors of abuse. Their Global Directory helps you find local support services in almost any country.

7 Cups A mental health ecosystem providing 24/7 free emotional support. You can chat anonymously with trained “listeners” or join support groups for trauma, anxiety, and depression.

Find A Helpline A comprehensive global tool that connects you to over 1,600 free and confidential helplines worldwide. You can filter by country and the specific issue you are facing (abuse, suicide prevention, etc.).

Bright Sky App A free mobile app (available in many countries, including Romania) that provides information on domestic abuse and a secure directory of specialist support services. It includes a “Journal” feature to safely record incidents of abuse.

Befrienders Worldwide A global network of centers providing confidential emotional support to people in crisis or experiencing suicidal thoughts. They offer a safe space to be heard without judgment.

Blue Knot Foundation A leading organization specialized in Complex Trauma (CPTSD). They provide extensive educational resources and support specifically for adult survivors of childhood trauma.