Twice as impulsive gestures, though at the time I thought they were serious attempts. After the gestures, I regained hope of improvement.
Once as a serious but impulsive attempt. After that, I gained hope that even if I don't improve that I'll at least be able to tolerate life.
Once as a serious and rational, well-planned attempt but I misjudged how quickly people would realize I'm missing and how easily they'd find me, as well as how long the method would take, so I was found and "saved". After that, I haven't gotten hope back and I am so deeply tired. My soul is tired. I let my exterior life get worse because having a good life didn't make a difference anyway.
Now I won't try again until I'm 100% sure it would work.