This is a hopeful post but deals with self-harm and suicidal ideation. If you’re in a space that isn’t conducive for you to read, I understand. I’ll punctuate the post with lots of nice pictures.
It’s midnight, and therefore officially August 31st 2024, which means that, depending on how one counts, either today or tomorrow is my birthday of sorts. I’m choosing today because it feels important to me.
I once read that we become entirely different people every seven to ten years. Taking that for what’s it’s worth, I’m on my second or third iteration from who I was in 2004. August 2004 me felt lost, adrift and barely afloat in depths of despair, and there came a point where – for the second time in my life – I tried to stay under the waves, believing that those around me and the world in general would be better off were I not present.
Since I am here writing this in 2024, I did not succeed, and I must say that if I had to fail at something, I’m glad I failed at that. That’s not to say things have always been easy, or even easier. Almost every day is a constant struggle in which I make a conscious decision not to give in. Some days are easier than others, and sometimes I’ve shut down for days on end, but I’m still here, still trying.
In some ways, it’s hard to put into words what it’s like to reach this milestone, because while I want to express my own sense of hope, I personally know others whose stories end differently, and I do not want to take away from or diminish in any way my friends and fellow human beings who made a different choice. Dante’s Divine Comedy may be near and dear to my heart, but I do not ascribe to or believe in the theology that suicides go to hell. Each person’s journey is unique, shaped by their circumstances, pain, and resources to manage both. Me being here does not make me stronger, better, or more deserving than others. Their choice is not a reflection of weakness, nor does it define their worth or the impact they had on the world and those who loved them. Indeed, the variance of outcomes should underscore the immense and overwhelming weight of mental illness. The human spirit is both immensely strong and incredibly fragile, and the world could do with more empathy, compassion, and understanding. I truly and deeply hope that, whatever they found, they found the peace that eluded them while here with us.
In the past two decades, I’ve had the privilege of experiencing life in ways I never imagined. I’ve made friends and built relationships that have enriched my life beyond measure. I married my best friend and though neither of us is the same person we were on our wedding day, we’ve each been in love with each version of each other and I am so thankful to have been so lucky to have that. I faced challenges while also discovering passions I never knew I had: meditation and running and music and TTRPGs and even acting, just to name just a few. I even got a tattoo (two now!).
I’ve managed to convince myself that it’s okay to not be okay (thank you, My Chemical Romance): asking for help is a sign of strength, leaning on loved ones is accepatable; seeking therapy isn’t a sin, and being kinder to myself isn’t selfish, it’s self-care. Recovery isn’t linear (which more people should understand, in my opion), and it’s certainly not easy, but it’s worthwhile.
I write all this not because I want sympathy or praise, but because I want to mark it for myself that I was here.
To anyone reading this who may be struggling, the world is a better place with you in it, even that sounds cliche and especially if it doesn’t feel true right now. Reach out to someone and take it one day at a time. Maybe do you don’t think you can take it another day, so take it ten seconds. The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt told us you can stand anything for ten seconds, and I’ve been there: sometimes it’s about making it to the next episode of a beloved show or getting to pat your pet or making a pot of coffee or just counting to ten and then ten again, and again, and again . . .
Needless to say today is a huge mix of emotions but I’m actively choosing to reflect on every messy, beautiful, challenging, and rewarding moment of this second/third chance.
Cheers in advance to the next 20 years and all their adventures, challenges, and joys.
Running In My Head 