I am not suicidal but I clearly remember being so. I remember not having the effort and energy to complete another day. I wasn't sure why, I just didn't have a will. I told my dad, we went outside and laid on the hood of the car, looked at the stars and talked. This was great because I just didn't want to look at him and talk, it was easier to look together at something else like the stars. He explained that he had those feelings at different times in his life also. I felt sad for my dad in a way that I wasn't able to feel sad for myself. Just knowing that I wasn't alone in my thinking was comforting. And even though I could not see my own future clearly, the awareness that my dad would suffer and feel such immense anguish at my leaving, I knew I could never seriously consider suicide as an option again. Eventually, I was able to live for myself too, but in that moment I was living for him and it was okay.
May 22, 2017
It's not a cliche, it does get better. It doesn't get perfect, but it does get better. I have been seeing a psychiatrist since the seventh grade. I tried 4 different antidepressants before the eighth grade. Nothing seemed to help. I was discouraged. I was hospitalized for self harm in the eighth grade. I was so embarrassed. The people I met in the hospital were clearly much "crazier" than I was. I just wanted to get out of there and return to my "normal" life of putting on happy face. As much as I hated the experience, I needed it. It was only afterward that I finally opened up to my psychiatrist about what was really bothering me. I was in love with my best friend, who was of the same sex. (You don't have to agree with my life choices, I know not everyone does. But I'm not here to make you uncomfortable, I'm here to share my story of encouragement.) Long story short, I told my friend how I felt. They were terrified and we stopped talking. I was devastated. I have a deep scar on my leg from that day. But I was finally able to embrace the person that I am. Fast forward 7 years, and I haven't cut since then. I finally realized I do need help. I'm still seeing a psychiatrist and I finally found a medication that works for me. Part of my healing came from learning to love myself for who I am, but I finally realized that depression didn't make me "damaged goods". It isn't my fault. It stems from a chemical imbalance in my brain, and treating it with medication is nothing to be ashamed of. Today, I am in love with an amazing individual, and I have a wonderful, supportive family. The bad days still come, but I have found my Reasons to keep me away from blades. I get through them. Every single one of them. And I am better for it. I have a wonderful life that I am happy to be a part of. Back in the eighth grade, I never could have pictured this, but here I am. And it's better. Not perfect, but better. I still see that scar on my leg, but I have finally gotten over the shame about it. It helps me see that I have made it 7 years without adding another scar. It helps me see that I made it through the dark parts and I am okay.