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**trigger warning, suicide, intrusive thoughts*
I’m nearing the 2 year anniversary of my attempted suicide. And as much as I tell myself not to think about it, my brain refuses to let it slide. Thread.
I’m nearing the 2 year anniversary of my attempted suicide. And as much as I tell myself not to think about it, my brain refuses to let it slide. Thread.
I know there’s so much going on in the world right now, it feels selfish to reflect, to struggle, to be focused on that. I wish I could turn it off and pretend it never happened, but my brain refuses to let that happen. I find myself both overwhelmed and empty.
The past two years have been a blessing, it’s true. But they have not been blue skies and sunshine. I have continued to struggle immensely. I wish I could say it’s been smooth sailing and getting easier, but it hasn’t.
There have been lots and lots of good and great days and moments, but the bad days and moments still show up. I don’t know if I believe it gets easier. I think maybe you learn better ways to accept it and not provoke it. That doesn’t make it any less hard.
I continuously struggle with intrusive thoughts, self harm, suicidal ideation and my self worth. I’ve learned to communicate those things much better, which helps with taking their power away. But they’re still there. And they’re still loud.
The thing I learned about recovery in trauma therapy is that it’s not linear. There are ups and downs. It’s a life long journey of redirecting and challenging intrusive thoughts, of reaching out and needing supports.
I always beat myself up for how many supports and professionals I need to just keep me going. To keep me alive. All because I can’t control my own brain. It feels ridiculous, helpless, embarrassing.
But I am constantly reminded by those supports and professionals to be proud of how far I’ve come. Of how much work I’ve done and the changes I’ve made. My perserverance and the drive to keep going on spite of it all.
My brain rarely lets me feel or see those things as truth, as concrete evidence that there’s something in me that always keeps fighting.
But that’s what mental illness is. The constant fight against yourself for the will to live and keep going.
But that’s what mental illness is. The constant fight against yourself for the will to live and keep going.
I’m so glad I’m here today. I’m so grateful for the past two years. All the laughter and love I’ve felt, the amazing people I’ve encountered. I guess the reason I share is to try to make it normal for people like me, so we don’t have to struggle in the dark, alone and ashamed.
Part of the reason I keep going is just in case there’s someone watching me who might also be struggling. I want them to think that if I can keep going, so can they. In spite of not feeling like it, but just pushing through anyway.
Because it doesn’t matter if things are pointless or feel pointless. Life doesn’t have to have a point or a purpose. Life is an opportunity to discover yourself, to experience the world, to spread love and respect.
You don’t have to have a great purpose. You can do as little as wake up in the morning and decide to be kind to whoever you encounter and already you’ve given yourself purpose. As those things seem to slip from humanity, I feel even more convicted to keep going.
