They may not make it out alive. I already found my daughter unresponsive in a suicide attempt, so I am numb to the scenario, yet in fear. As a parent, you never want to accept your child might die, but I acknowledge this painful truth.
Today, I admit my loss, and it's not you, it is me. My identify is gone, and my will to live is slowly dwindling to nothing. I moved from the joy of living to hate of breathing.
Then without warning, I disappeared.
Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.
..Beating her in and out.
And there flying free,
Her dreams escape her now.
As morning sun arises,
And newness hollers, "Free!"
Lies the skeleton of survival,
No longer needed or in need.
Maybe my lesson is the one you need today. Maybe your pain is still holding you down, even to the point of wrapping itself around your throat and constricting every breath you take.
I don't choose to hide my truth in some closet in hopes of fooling anyone. I make no claims to owning the answers for mental health. I am not the authority on anything.
I follow a few social media style support networks for Christians with depression, and it baffles me that in 2020 we still hear the misguided answer that the devil is living in us through this mental illness. Allow me to correct this with calm words on a screen, as in person, it may get heated.
From far away, things look regular and routine. However, up close, you see the jagged edges and broken pieces of a shattered soul. When I step into myself, I face a stranger.
Tonight I remember Amy Bleuel, founder of Project Semicolon. She was the voice for many. Her encouragement and dedication to the fight against suicide was empowering.
She grew tired and lost her battle. On this night, I get it.