Day #184 in A Year of Thanks:
I’m thankful I’m still alive and that I never gave up on life.

If you’re relatively new to my life or my website, this post may come as a surprise. I briefly mentioned this on Days 28 and 36 in A Year of Positivity, but I idealized suicide for a hot minute and contemplated it behind closed doors with a knife in hand. On the one hand, I’m having a difficult time believing I’ve ever had these thoughts, because I feel so disconnected from this dark, negative mentality, as if it were several lifetimes ago. However, considering everything I endured up to that point in my junior year of high school and how I felt deep down at my core as a result, I’m amazed at how I’ve persevered. I debated whether to delete the poem I’d written in my junior year English class, but I decided to keep it and share it below as well.

Blood, death;
Blood, life;
Blood, lost and confused.

Why waste my breath,
When I know I can take this knife,
And give it some use?

Blood, tears;
Blood, screaming;
Blood, no emotions.

I’ve taken it year after year,
These tears just keep streaming,
I’ve lost all my devotion.

Blood, misery;
Blood, lonesome;
Blood, just run away.

It all sends me fury,
As I become so numb,
Knife over my wrists, my life I shall slay.

But one thing stops me,
Blood, which I see,
It is merely a dream.

It just seems,
Seems so real,
But it’s not, it’s surreal.

Blood, fear;
Blood, anger;
Blood, suicide.

Why am I still here?
I feel myself a stranger
From the dark, dark side.

Blood, uncontained;
Blood, trapped;
Blood, stupidity.

Rid this ugly, terrible pain;
My life just overlapped,
Over and over without validity.

Blood, death;
Blood, life;
Blood, bloody wrists cut.

I find that I’ve never really wasted my breath.
I never really took that knife,
And put it over my wrists. Bloody wrists uncut.

With God in your life, you never waste a breath.
Jesus shed his blood for your life; yeah, your life.
Start anew with God, because He loves you. Don’t cut.

I can also remember writing one of my private thoughts into one of the many notebooks I used for my writing. I don’t recall the exact wording of the question I wrote, but I had been wondering what would’ve happened if I were to disappear. Would anyone have noticed my absence? Would I be missed? That’s how invisible I felt.

Of course, my Grams came across it by accident one day, and she questioned me about it. I can’t recall what I’d told her, but after she told me how much she loved me, I reassured her I was okay and that it wasn’t anything to be worried about. I realized that had I said yes to my darkest, impulsive thoughts, some of the pain I’d dealt with would have only passed on to someone else. It would have passed on pain to my Grams, it would’ve passed on pain to my best friends that I met through the Dream Street fandom, and a couple of them had already lost a few other friends to suicide. I knew they loved me, and I didn’t want them to feel any of the pain I felt every time my mother tried to commit suicide, so I quietly said no to the knife that I secretly took from the kitchen, and I kicked suicide ideation to the curb as I later put the knife back where it belonged.

I wish I could go back in time to hug my teenage self. She went through hell and back as a kid, teen, and young adult. All she wanted was to be loved, seen, heard, valued, and appreciated, and she is. I wish I could tell her how strong she is, how loved she is, how highly valued and favored she is. I would ask her to keep holding on because everything will get better, and she’ll have a beautiful future waiting for her to catch up to it. It’s just a matter of time before all good things come to those who wait. I’m thankful that my teenage self said no to the darkness, and I’m grateful she didn’t give up. She was and always will be a fighter, and she’ll live to fight for what she deserves.

Day 183 | Day 184 | Day 185
Year of Thanks