Suicide: The Darkest Days
These days, I know joy on a very intimate level.
This was something I never could have imagined at my worst. In those days, I was angry, I was empty, I was broken; I thought I was alone. I couldn’t go a day without thinking of killing myself, because surely the pain of death couldn’t be worse than the emotional turmoil I was in. And honestly, that wasn’t all that long ago. I pushed people away. I stopped talking. I took it out on myself. I lived in terror of who/what I had become. This was how I lived for weeks, if not months. And gradually it got worse, life became darker, and I wanted to die.
There came a breaking point where my crisis overtook me. Rather than haphazardly attempting suicide, I reached out. My blog post, Hospitalized, tells the story of my two-week stay in the Psychiatric Unit.
I would from there seek treatment that was appropriate for the things I was struggling through. During my intake, I would be given two diagnoses. In my blog post, Midnight Prayers, I only speak of the second one, because I was terrified of being labeled with Borderline Personality Disorder. I’ve since learned that these things don’t define me. In the beginning, I wondered if I was ever going to live a life free from impulsivity and self-destructiveness. I now am.
It can easily be called a miracle, that I am where I’m at today. Where mental health issues once ran my life, they do not anymore. I have been made free. I am restored to sanity, if we’re going alongside the 12 Steps. And I live with the high hope that this is true for anyone struggling in the depths of darkness. This hope naturally goes into my most recent post, Christian Community & Suicide.
I think of the words of Jesus in John 5:6, “Do you want to be made well?”
Of Muddy Paws On The Concrete Road 