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On Carriage Road in January

I remember specifically the last time suicide, as an option, crossed my mind. It's always a little bit there, underneath the surface of my love for living. That's quite the paradox isn't it? I love life so dang much, I love everything about being alive and on this planet. And also, sometimes my depression comes through my mind, and just lays a blanket on my optimism. It's extremely frustrating.

I was staring out the window in the backseat of my parents car. It was January of 2017. The scenes passing me in the window had no color, no life. I felt pure exhaustion. I had spent the morning wondering if life would always be like this, if I would always be this tired from constantly fighting the demons inside of me.

Next thing I knew the word suicide shot across my brain. I immediately felt tears just jumping out of my eyes. Right as that level of hopelessness grabbed my wrists, I was terrified. How could I be here AGAIN?! I thought I beat this the past two times I considered and attempted suicide.  How could I even let that thought cross my mind? Right after this, my niece and nephew appeared in my heart. More tears silently flowing as I just stare at the world pass. I was feeling so much terror, terrified with myself, my thoughts, and the possible actions that this could've encompassed. And feeling. so. alone.

There I was with who people that loved me so much, not even an arm's length away, and they had no idea what was swirling in my head. I'm not even sure I could've put words to it if I tried; or if they'd get it. Not that it would've been their fault, I don't even understand it myself.
But there's something about saying things out loud. It makes them real, gives them power that I don't want them to have. I'm already so disgusted and terrified of this dark and stormy puzzle piece yelling inside of me.

What do we do with those pieces?
I know I'm not alone in these thoughts and feelings, and I know we are a full puzzle, not just the pieces that put it together.

Because on the other hand, talking about these things almost takes away their power. I'm a damned therapist, and spend 40 hours a week encouraging others to share their feelings and thoughts, and to fight the shame and stigma of mental health. No, not everyone is going to know how to respond, and sometimes people's perceptions and reactions might not feel great...but that can be seen as a chance to educate and inform. Speaking freely on the battles in our head can also give us power back, it can give a chance for your heart and soul to step forward. That's where the healing comes from, our mind's are beautiful, but they can be sneaky and sometimes they get sick. Sometimes the brain needs a break, a moment to step back and take a deep breathe. This is when our heart and soul step forward and carry us for awhile.

I still feel intense emotion about my previous suicide attempts/thoughts, and I'm trying really hard to prepare myself for the next time it comes around. Because it will. But if we are prepared and we stop shaming and spitting on them in disgust, then maybe they won't take us by surprise as much and we can tell someone, or ask for help. Or maybe we'll find that hope, that lifeline inside of us, just a little bit quicker.

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