First, a disclaimer. This is not a call for help. This is not a last note before throwing myself to the Abyss. No, rather this is just an exploration into a subject many would rather have a jump reaction to, versus just taking the time to listen. I do not mean to offend anyone, but I will admit that even I am not sure where all this will go. So, with that said, let’s begin……
I don’t necessarily relish in knowing the complete allure of suicide. I do, however, know how it feels to be in crippling sadness and despair, such that taking one’s life does honestly feel like an option. I have been there, perhaps more than I can admit to myself. But I can admit that twenty-five years ago, yes, I was close once. Very close. Scary close. Close to the point that there are certain things that can trigger me into remember every vivid detail of that time. The smell, the weight, the total feeling of not being able to breathe, let alone get up. The total feeling of being so lost that I felt no one cared, and that all I could see was an end to making the pain stop. I remember sitting there, for what most likely was only a few moments but feels like hours, contemplating things being over.
I remember, demons in my soul begging for release, and angels in my head praying for me to just breathe. I realize that the metaphors of religious beings sounds cliché, but I do feel that is how this all personally manifested for me. Needless to say, I took that first breath in, and let it out. I realized where I was, and what I was attempting to do. I felt such guilt in that moment, and with it rage that I would allow myself to feel like this. Honestly, that almost pulled things to a conclusion, but I breathed again and lay down on the ground, howling with agony over how far I allowed myself to go. I needed that moment for in it, I let go of a small ounce of that weight. Between the sobs, I noticed that I was slowly being able to breathe easier. Eventually, the crying stopped and I hugged myself the hardest I ever could. I realize that the person who means the most to me, is myself. I needed to take the time to nurture my soul, to slowly start finding my own way.
I remember that, that took a long time, but when I was done, I picked myself up, and placed things away in such that no one may ever know what almost happened. I learned to start listening to that inner dialogue that I had become deaf to. I learned that it is okay to be my own friend, and to take stands for me, versus throwing everything for someone else’s pleasure.
I remember that day, because I need to. Because as bad as things may seem, we always can go a different way. It may be harder, it may have a cost, but we do not need to waste ourselves to our self-anguish. There is only one person who controls my destiny, and he is me.
I choose to remember versus forget this as well. I know that once again, I’ve heard the callings and the whispers. I’ve been feeling my self-doubt and self-loathing grow. I know I have allowed things to go sideways for to long. This time though, I can see it. I have reached out to talk with trusted friends and a professional as well. They all are helping me remember I can cope, and that I can be what I want to be. There is a lot about me that I forget, is pretty damn great. Yeah, it is tough, but I am going to find how to be happy.
It all begins and ends with me, and I, simply, I want more.
