This post is about suicide. So, if you might be trigged by reading about this, I highly encourage you to stop here. If you want to read this, then come back to it when you can mentally get through it. I also want to say that if you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation, please reach out to someone. The National Suicide Hotline is a great place to start; just dial 988.
I have struggled for many months thinking about how and when I would reveal this part of my life story. Until now, only one person, a past counselor, has known about this experience. And when I think about why it’s so crucial to share this part of my life with others, my pride steps in and stops me from sharing it; however, I feel that it’s crucial to release into the world both for my well-being and to let others know that they are not alone. So, here I am, laying it out before you. At this point, you’ve probably have already gathered what I’m about to talk about, but I want to take another moment to say that if talking about suicide is a trigger for you, please stop reading here. If this type of conversation is a trigger for you but you want to read this story, then come back when you ready to read it.
March 28, 2022 is a day that will forever haunt me but it is also a day that propels me forward. When I woke up that day, I had but one thought on my mind all day… “this would be my last day alive.” It was long day of fighting with myself. I went through that day trying to convince myself to not go through with my plan, but at that moment I just couldn’t convince myself that it was worth staying alive.
There was one moment just minutes before it was time for me enact my plan that I remember so vividly, in fact, every time that I think about this moment I get a clear video in my head as if I’m watching a movie. I was at the front desk of Scott Hall during open dorms. Most of my laughter was forced so people wouldn’t think anything was wrong. However, there was one brief moment that I had genuine burst of laughter, and I thought to myself, “I wish this moment could last forever.” But it was mere seconds later that I was back to my current reality and I was, once again, convinced that the only right thing to do was to end it all.
The time had come for me to make my journey from the lobby back to my room on the third floor. With each step that I took up the stairs was a different emotion, but by the time I got to the third floor, the only emotion that I had was certainty of my end.
Now, it has always been my tradition to try to speak to everyone on the floor one last time before I went to bed. So, to everyone else it was just the usual ending to night, but to me it was the final goodbye.
As I closed the door to my dorm room, I felt a heaviness come over me. In one last desperate try to convince myself that life was worth continuing to live, I just sat in my room, contemplating everything. But yet, I still couldn’t find any valuable reason to not end it.
I grabbed the pills from my desk drawer. I sat the pill bottle on the corner of my coffee table, and sat down on the floor. I took one deep breath. As I picked up the pill bottle to open it, I felt arms wrap around me, and I began to cry. I cried like I never cried before; my tears even felt different. Once I had cried all the water out of my body and gained strength back in my body, I got up to get ready for bed. I remember thinking to myself as I got in bed, “What if I change my mind when I wake up? What if when I wake up I realize I made a big mistake by not going through with it?”
So, March 28, 2022 is the day that haunts me but it also propels me forward. March 28, 2022 is the day that I almost committed suicide.
Before I end this letter, I want to briefly say that although that day was filled with so much darkness, there were a few moments that felt real—real in a way that I have never experienced them before.
The first moment was the burst of genuine laughter. At that time I was 22 years old and in my 22 years of living, I have never felt the amount of joy that I had in that moment. Honestly, to this day, I envy that version of me that got to experience it even though it was just for a moment.
The second moment is when I felt someone hug me. That hug felt so real and so different that the next day I began to question if I was actually alone in my room. Even as I write this letter, I’m still convinced that someone snuck in at that moment without me noticing.
The last moment was right before I went to bed. I saw Jesus. He stood at my door, smiled, and He left. He said nothing but from his smiling presence, a message was impressed on my Spirit that there’s more.
If you are someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, I encourage you to reach out. You are not alone and there are people waiting to listen to your story. Dial 988.
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