Soon enough it will be approaching the anniversary of the day I attempted suicide. It was the scariest moment of my life. Whenever I think about it now it does not feel like I am thinking about myself; but I am thinking about someone else, someone who has died, someone who never made it. I guess that is what happened, a part of me died. I worry every day that something will occur that a part of that character will come back. Something I have discovered is that my depression is triggered via an event, a bad event. Every day I fear something awful is going to happen and that dark side of me will reappear again. I am truly frightened of what I could do to myself in my worst moments. However, is this fear is a sign of getting better? All of this fear consumes me day-to-day and triggers, enforces and enrages something which has always been a part of me, my anxiety. I hate that I am so anxious; everything brings fear into my heart and poisons my mind. I despise feeling, I despise waking, I despise thinking because it causes a crippling anxiety within.
However, despite all of this, I am still incredibly proud of myself. I am so lucky I never died. I am so grateful to have started therapy. I have changed a phenomenal amount and although the battle is hard. Although I have those days where I spend them alone, crying. Although I can wake up in fear. I have come a long way. And it’s not because of anyone else, I have developed self-love, stronger than I have had since… well since I can remember and I try my very best to remind myself I deserve inner happiness just like everybody else. Just like you.