Recently, I finished the book 13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher. The novel tells of a girl who sends out a message to the thirteen people who caused her to commit suicide. Although difficult at many parts, this story is honest and fascinating.
While reading it, I thought of the times that I felt like giving up on life. There are many things that stopped me. However, there are certain people who had the most influence on saving me.
So instead of sending out a message to those who caused me to give up, here is a message of hope and love for those that supported and saved me. I excluded my family members simply because they are an obvious (for me) help. Thank you to all of them as well as those who also aided me on this beautiful but painful journey of life.
I must warn you: today was not pretty. Writing a warning label never appealed to me. It seemed silly. However, this post might need that. You could possibly be triggered by this poem.
My heart is hurting so much although talking to my mother and being helped by two dear friends was very beneficial. Thus, totally explaining everything is too much. Here is a poem instead. It is nothing fancy or polished. It simply comes from my raw state of being.
Narnia is finished now, but life is even crazier. I feel like I am going to explode. However, I am trying to breathe deeply and keep pushing forward. Here are some links that made me smile this week (with one sad one). Hopefully they will bring a grin to your face too.
Without even looking down, I tugged. The denim refused to budge. Surprised, I turned my attention to the jeans from my sister. As much as I hate pants, these ones were acceptable to wear on the odd day when I felt so inclined.
The jeans, on the other hand, did not feel so inclined to me. After another tug, I realized that there was no way the buttons could close over my hips. The jeans that had fit the last time I tugged them on now were too small.
I hate recovery. That was my first thought. Hate it so much. Almost as much as I hate myself.
All of me has been screaming out today or really the past few months. My mind, my feeling, my very blood coursing through my body is screeching with pain. I do not know where to turn or who to go to as the thoughts grow louder and more desperate.
When I hear of people who cannot take it anymore and do something dirastic, I understand. Life can feel so unbearable. A box of hot iron box closing in slowly as it burns you alive, an avalanche of snow burying you frozen in place with lessening oxygen, a whip that cracks down open your back until you are raw and exposed with no ability to stand on your own – that is life now.
Yet, even looking at those metaphors seems lame. When I try to speak, my words embarrass me. Whines and petty annoyances, that is all I seem to articulate. People judge that and me which turns off even more of my lights of hope that I desperately tried to switch on. Flip, flip, flip. Each day, a few more lights are switched off.
Whether it is with joy, fear, or depression, our whole selves react to our feelings.
Each morning for the past few days, I have awoken wondering how I am going to make it through the next few days. School, work, medical appointments, honor society commitments, and friendships are all weighing down on me. Although these are all good things, the amount of everything in my life is so much that I feel like I am going to break.
Our bodies, minds, emotions, and spirits are more attached than we realize. When in pain, every bit of ourselves aches. Joy radiates throughout our beings when we hear good news and makes us think good thoughts and feel well. Thus, it would make sense to see our whole self as connected.
Standing with Joni Earkson Tada who struggled with depression after being paralyzed
Yesterday, I was honored to receive an award that I dreamed about winning ever since I heard about it several years ago. My classmates and faculty nominated me to win the Friend of ADA (American Disabilities Association) Award at my university. The reason for this was my work blogging and advocating for those with mental illness and aspergers.
For most, yesterday was a dream come true. A lightness lifted me as I carried my bouquet of flowers around campus and blushed as people congratulated me. This award seemed like the first step toward helping others on a more global scale and winning the Noble Prize one day.
Yet, another part of my day was filled with gut-wrenching sobs and suicidal thoughts. As I cried so hard talking to my mom that I nearly collapsed, I shuddered to think of what people must think when they passed by my heaving form. What a failure I was to the award that I had just received!