It’s 1:06am as I write this.
April 11th is officially over.
My birthday is done.
And I’m still here.

I thought my medicines were helping. I thought I was improving. Part of me was still doubtful though.
How can a medicine make that much of a difference?
How can I go from despair to hope?
How am I going to change?

Maybe for a short period my brain chemicals righted themselves or maybe my body was telling itself I was doing better, like a placebo effect. I’m really not sure to be honest.
What I do know, is I need help.

My nightmares have gotten worse. My agitation has grown. I’m exhausted of feeling. I’m tired of being hurt. Too many things trigger me nowadays.
It’s too much.

Two nights ago, my mind went to its darkest corner. That nasty, snarled, fucked up part of me was itching to get a hold of what left I had to offer. I fell down the rabbit hole, afraid this time I wasn’t going to pull myself out.

Bad thoughts.
My therapist doesn’t like those words. What does bad thoughts mean? How bad? How dark.


I laid in bed, frozen. I honestly couldn’t move.
I saw two options.
One, I down every medicine bottle I can find. I leave all my troubles behind. I leave my friends and family behind. I lessen the burden of me.
I keep going. I stay in bed. I don’t dare move. I don’t dare make that decision.

Two nights ago, I came so close, probably the closest, to ending my life.

The crapshoot of my brain thought it poetic. Die on the day I was born. Circle of life.

But, I made it through that night. And I made it through April 11th.
I went to the counseling appointment I made on my birthday, by accident by-the-way (I’ve really fallen of the wagon on keeping track of time), and told my therapist all of this.
And I told him how I went through with my emergency plan we had made our very first session.

Call my best friend.
Talk to my parents.
Call counselor/hotline.
Call 911.

I didn’t get to step three or four, although I was damn close. I refocused myself using the support I had. And I am so grateful. At least in this very moment.

While my mother and I drove to pick up cupcakes (which I love), I told her about my session. I told her that I needed to see my doctor soon. I need to let them know I am considering admitting myself for my own safety.
She asked “Why?”

Because I am suicidal.

She replied. “I didn’t know.”

And it’s then, that it really dawned on me, how silent depression can be.
You hear about it in the news all the time. “They were so happy.” or “We didn’t see it coming.”

Because it is a silent killer.
And it is terrible.
And it is scary.
And it is unforgiving.

But somewhere deep down I know it’s reversible. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have followed through with my emergency plan. If I didn’t believe it, I wouldn’t have started this blog. I wouldn’t even be writing this.

All I know is that I made it past the deadline I had given myself.

I survived the day.

Now I start all over.

“I thought you were mine”

“You forfeit all rights to my heart
You forfeit the place in our bed
You’ll sleep in your office instead
With only the memories
Of when you were mine”

Photo by Gleb Lukomets on Unsplash
Song & Lyrics: Burn (Originally from Hamilton), covered by Jackie Evancho