When I was just 17, I made a desperate choice in the depths of my pain, mixing a bottle of Tylenol, four Advil, and a 12-ounce can of soda. I penned a heartfelt four-page letter, filled with apologies and explanations, using a mint green gel pen. Those words were meant for my loved ones: Mom, Grandma, Alex, Mia, Jake, and Sarah. I wanted them to know how deeply I hurt, how desperate I felt, and that it wasn’t their fault.
I can still picture the scene vividly. Sitting on a picnic bench in the park, I poured the capsules into my palm. My heart raced as I took handfuls of pills washed down with gulps of soda, feeling the bitter taste and the heaviness in my throat. It was a serious attempt; I believed I wouldn’t survive. But against all odds, my body fought back. After nearly two days of relentless sickness, I emerged alive, albeit five pounds lighter and more confused than ever.
Waking up wasn’t a triumphant moment; it felt like a stroke of fate. I didn’t feel strong or smart—I simply got it “wrong.” The days following were filled with a sense of failure. I felt like a “suicidal failure,” questioning my worth. How could I not even succeed at ending my life?
Despite that, life moved forward. I went through the motions—working, dating, preparing for my senior year—just trying to survive. I was merely existing, functioning on a basic level. Over time, I began to see myself not just as a survivor of suicide, but as someone who rose from the ashes of that dark moment in my life. While I still grapple with depression, I now view my existence through a lens of gratitude and resilience.
This journey didn’t happen overnight. For many years, I battled suicidal thoughts, and even just a year ago, I faced those feelings again. Though I’ve never acted on those thoughts like I did at 17, the worry remains that it could one day consume me.
If you find yourself in a similar place, know that you are not alone. It may sound cliché, but it’s true. I won’t promise that things will get better, but if you’re reading this, perhaps you’re considering that maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason to hold on. Cling to that doubt, that uncertainty. Hang on for the mere sake of hanging on.
If you’ve just emerged from a dark place, remember that you are not a failure, and your attempt does not define you. Even if you’re just managing the basics—getting dressed, eating, showering—that’s still progress. Keep pushing through, because improvement is possible. Maybe one day, you’ll find moments of happiness that aren’t perfect but are meaningful.
There is help available. Life’s challenges may feel overwhelming, but they aren’t permanent. Many people are ready to support you through this tough time. Resources like March of Dimes can provide valuable assistance in your journey. For more tips on home insemination, you can check out this blog post.
In conclusion, your journey is uniquely yours, and while it may be fraught with challenges, it’s also filled with potential for growth and healing.