When I woke up in the hospital, one of my first thoughts was “Damn. It didn’t work.” Then, after seeing, hugging and crying with my friends and family members, a new thought began to take hold. Each day, it grew a little stronger. And, as it grew stronger, I began to listen to it more. This new, fledgling thought was simple – “I want to live.”
That last of the wine still processing, I got up to relieve myself, but stopped as soon as I stood up next to the bed. Something was off about the room. A childish sense of fear had started to seep into my sobering mind.
Someone was in our apartment.
No matter how much society has claimed to be enlightened, people still don’t understand what it is to be depressed, suicidal, anxious, or mentally ill.
Telling people what happened is just as difficult for me now as it was 11 years ago.
It’s funny how some band, an assortment of people that you’ve never even met before, can put the emotions you’ve been feeling into words that you couldn’t have formed yourself. They don’t know you or the situation you’re going through, and yet, they found a way to explain it perfectly.
I wonder how you are. I have so many questions.
Could there be a possibility they’re hopeFUL? Could there be a possibility they feel close to God? Could there be a possibility they feel BLESSED and COURAGEOUS?
He pulled the gun from the safe, loaded it with ammunition, and handed it to me. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything to anyone.
Yes, you’re still struggling. But just because you’re still struggling does it mean that you’re not on your way to healing. You are. Just keep walking. Just keep on living.
We are all important, and we all matter.