What’s most agonizing about suicidal thoughts are not the thoughts themselves, but the confusion behind them.

For what it’s worth, I want to live. There are hundreds of things I haven’t done, places I haven’t gone to, people I haven’t met, feelings I haven’t felt. Sometimes just the vastness of my “haven’t done yet”s make me so anxious, it cripples me into doing nothing at all. Motivation: lost.

I want to live, I do. I haven’t finished my first book (ETA, December 2017). I haven’t road-tripped across the country, purchased a piece of furniture, or learned how to rollerblade. I still haven’t broken my nail-biting habit (it’s gross, I know, okay?), and I still haven’t mastered ASL (working on it, though). There are things I want–maybe even need–to do before my time on earth is up, things that keep me up at night (maybe not the rollerblading thing, but definitely that impending CC-road trip). There is so much left to say, to do, to feel. I want to say it all, do it all, feel it all.

I want to live.

But sometimes? I just don’t.

Sometimes I convince myself that I am not worthy of love, of friendship, of the opportunities I’ve been given, of the oxygen flowing into my lungs. Sometimes I convince myself that those around me see me as nothing more than a burden, a nuisance, a blemish they cannot get rid of. Sometimes I convince myself that they will be better off without me. Sometimes I convince myself that my bedroom contains all I’ll ever need, and that leaving the comfort of it will bring me only anxiety, only sadness, only more feelings of inadequacy. Sometimes I convince myself that it would be easier to disappear than it would be to continue trying to find comfort in visibility, that it would be easier to end the cycle of misery at my own hands than to continue living a life I will never truly love.

On today, World Suicide Prevention Day, I want to open up a dialogue about suicidal thoughts and ideation. An uncomfortable conversation that many people are afraid to have, myself included. But not having the conversation at all has proven to be less-than-ideal. That almost innate refusal to speak on the things that are difficult hasn’t helped anyone suffering from mental illness.

It took a long time to feel comfortable enough to even say I dealt with suicidal thoughts and ideation. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and scared. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t think anyone should have to listen to me attempt to explain what was going on inside my head. Living alone with my self-deprecation felt easier than burdening anyone else with those morbid thoughts I couldn’t even explain to myself.

So, openly offering my support to those who may need is is the step I’m taking today. I don’t want anyone to feel as if they are alone in their more difficult emotions, alone in dealing with the urges they bring up, or alone in their confusion behind the things they are feeling. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger, a sounding board for the suicidal ideation thrust upon me that I didn’t quite know how to navigate despite feeling everything so harshly and so deeply.

Open up a productive dialogue with your loved ones today. I know I’ll be doing the same for mine.

“Suicide prevention is important to me because I am alive because of people who cared enough to make sure I was okay” – TWLOHA.com

Always remember you are not alone.

You are loved.

Sandra

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