To the Suicide Note I Never Wrote

Warning: This is a long post…

It was in November of 2014. I had a normal work day. I went to a job that I hated, did the best that I could (which was never enough), came home, and sat on my couch. For whatever reason every emotion was triggered that night. I can’t remember now what sent me over the edge but I was DONE. I didn’t want to have to pretend that I was happy anymore. I didn’t want to have to pretend that I was the child my parents deserved. I didn’t want to feel like I wasn’t enough for work, or friends, or family, or myself. I was tired of waking up every day and knowing that there were so many things that I should be but instead I was failing. Constantly failing and never getting back on top. In that moment I cried for hours and hours and grabbed the hydrocodone and Vicodin with a bottle of water and was ready to let it all go. It was perfectly planned out.

In the midst of my tears with pills in hand I could hear a scream. I t was so clear and distinct. It was my mother finding my dead body and wondering what went wrong. It was the pain and agony she’d feel after losing her only child. Then I could see my father in a constant state of sadness, moping around wondering why his baby girl never said anything. What could he have done better to stop it all. It was in that moment I realized that whatever pain I was experiencing, I’d have to pull myself together another day because the aftermath for them wasn’t worth the release for me. A couple of weeks later a friend came to visit and disposed of the pills for me because I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Five months later I handed my pain over to God and told Him that I couldn’t do it on my own anymore. Since then it hasn’t been perfect but it’s gotten easier to deal with bad days.

Recently I had a friend that call me in the midst of drunken pain, telling me his life wasn’t worth living and he wanted to end it all. It felt like the longest night of my life keeping him on the phone, and getting him to agree to give life another try and take it day by day. Then it reminded me that I never wrote THE LETTER. You know that one that says:

“It was never your fault. You were wonderful parents. I just can’t take this anymore. I wish I was a better daughter. I love you. I’m sorry.”

I realize now there was a reason for that. God wouldn’t allow me to finalize it because I still had more to do. I still had others to help and to be there for. I have a purpose. This is in NO way saying that if you sit down to write the note that you should go through with it. Instead if you read this and you feel that you have no purpose on this earth, that you contribute nothing, and that you have no worth, MY DARLING YOU ARE WORTH EVERYTHING!!! Life was never meant to be easy. If it was we’d never appreciate anything. Everyone’s struggles are different and we all cope differently. Whether you can see it or not, your story will change someone’s life. Your presence can brighten someone’s day. Your kind hello may save a life for someone who feel no one ever sees them. So DON’T GIVE UP! Keep pushing, ask for help (and accept it), and know that one day it will get better. Just take it one day at a time.

 

Live Life;

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About Me
A young 30 something trying to find my way to a healthier lifestyle and learning to embrace all that is me. Why don't you join me on my journey.

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