Today was National Suicide Awareness Day. I've been anticipating it for a while... Processing and remembering. I wasn't going to write anything, at least, not something for others to read. But then I thought about how ridiculous it'd be to not write and share something.
You see, I remember being eleven when I realized I didn’t know what to do with all of the intense emotions I had. I remember the first time I dug my nails into my wrist, as hard as I could. I remember the marks it left, as well as the surprise it left. As if the pain I was experiencing had somehow released. This went on for five more years. Nothing was ever too noticeable, I made sure of it. It was during those years that I met a handful of others who confessed that they too released pain in a similar way. We each had our own methods of coping. We built a bond through our confusion and hurt. It was because of them that I wondered if I could make it after all...
A few really bad "lows" hit, and I quickly lost my optimism. There were three times I went to take things into my own hands. Each time, I was interrupted by these close friends. They didn't know what I was about to do. But they knew. Call it intuition. Call it a natural occurrence when there is deep connection and trust in a friendship. Call it Supernatural. Whatever you would like to call it... It saved my life each time. After the third time, I was convinced. I was supposed to be here. I had no idea why, or how. But I knew.
And so I kept living.
Don't get me wrong, it didn't get easy right away. I actually developed an eating disorder that took my already tiny 5'2 and 105lbs frame down to 87lbs in two short months. I wasn't okay.
But I had my people... They gave me reasons to laugh and squeezed my hand in the most difficult nights. The emotions and thoughts I was carrying, no matter how dark, were respected and validated.
And so I kept living.
I lost four friends in two years to death, one of them was due to a freak accident. The rest were suicide. I was angry and lonely, even jealous.
I remember the night before high school graduation, I was up late with my cousin. She was helping me create a photo board- completely planned but last minute as only I can do. I remember getting slammed with emotions unexpectedly... Not the, “oh man! I’m gonna miss high school!” Nor the, “I can’t wait to get out of here!”
I was looking at my life, but it wasn't through an honest lens. The pictures didn’t communicate all that I had experienced. No one would know how miraculous it was that I was about to walk across a stage and receive a diploma. And I was so grateful. Shame seeped through my veins and clothed me like the cap and gown I was about to wear the next morning.
My best friend who had stood at my side during the worst years, hugged me tightly after graduation and said, “Kayla, you made it to the top of the mountain.” I have a picture of that moment and it's one of my favorite pictures ever.
And so I kept living.
Post high school, I did what everyone else was doing and started college classes at a nearby community college. I completed one semester that I loved but decided to spend the following semester in a different city, in a different state, with strangers from a background that was vastly different than mine. The strangers became like family and for the first time, I felt like I truly belonged.
And so I kept living.
Here I am at 22. I still haven't gone back to college yet. I left the ministry I was with for almost three years in order to pursue this thing called 'self care'. I was a lot better but still facing depression head on.
I still am.
Don’t mistake me. I have had a lot of healing the past four years as well. Emotional healing, and actual physical healing.
Insomnia no longer plagues me.
I have been self harm free for almost five years.
I like my body.
I value my own emotions, thoughts, and desires.
I am learning about who I am, why, and what that means to my future.
I am becoming better at taking care of myself and letting others love me.
I am jazzed for the next five years ahead, as well as the next fifty.
And so I'll keep living.
You see, I remember being eleven when I realized I didn’t know what to do with all of the intense emotions I had. I remember the first time I dug my nails into my wrist, as hard as I could. I remember the marks it left, as well as the surprise it left. As if the pain I was experiencing had somehow released. This went on for five more years. Nothing was ever too noticeable, I made sure of it. It was during those years that I met a handful of others who confessed that they too released pain in a similar way. We each had our own methods of coping. We built a bond through our confusion and hurt. It was because of them that I wondered if I could make it after all...
A few really bad "lows" hit, and I quickly lost my optimism. There were three times I went to take things into my own hands. Each time, I was interrupted by these close friends. They didn't know what I was about to do. But they knew. Call it intuition. Call it a natural occurrence when there is deep connection and trust in a friendship. Call it Supernatural. Whatever you would like to call it... It saved my life each time. After the third time, I was convinced. I was supposed to be here. I had no idea why, or how. But I knew.
And so I kept living.
Don't get me wrong, it didn't get easy right away. I actually developed an eating disorder that took my already tiny 5'2 and 105lbs frame down to 87lbs in two short months. I wasn't okay.
But I had my people... They gave me reasons to laugh and squeezed my hand in the most difficult nights. The emotions and thoughts I was carrying, no matter how dark, were respected and validated.
And so I kept living.
I lost four friends in two years to death, one of them was due to a freak accident. The rest were suicide. I was angry and lonely, even jealous.
I remember the night before high school graduation, I was up late with my cousin. She was helping me create a photo board- completely planned but last minute as only I can do. I remember getting slammed with emotions unexpectedly... Not the, “oh man! I’m gonna miss high school!” Nor the, “I can’t wait to get out of here!”
I was looking at my life, but it wasn't through an honest lens. The pictures didn’t communicate all that I had experienced. No one would know how miraculous it was that I was about to walk across a stage and receive a diploma. And I was so grateful. Shame seeped through my veins and clothed me like the cap and gown I was about to wear the next morning.
My best friend who had stood at my side during the worst years, hugged me tightly after graduation and said, “Kayla, you made it to the top of the mountain.” I have a picture of that moment and it's one of my favorite pictures ever.
And so I kept living.
Post high school, I did what everyone else was doing and started college classes at a nearby community college. I completed one semester that I loved but decided to spend the following semester in a different city, in a different state, with strangers from a background that was vastly different than mine. The strangers became like family and for the first time, I felt like I truly belonged.
And so I kept living.
Here I am at 22. I still haven't gone back to college yet. I left the ministry I was with for almost three years in order to pursue this thing called 'self care'. I was a lot better but still facing depression head on.
I still am.
Don’t mistake me. I have had a lot of healing the past four years as well. Emotional healing, and actual physical healing.
Insomnia no longer plagues me.
I have been self harm free for almost five years.
I like my body.
I value my own emotions, thoughts, and desires.
I am learning about who I am, why, and what that means to my future.
I am becoming better at taking care of myself and letting others love me.
I am jazzed for the next five years ahead, as well as the next fifty.
And so I'll keep living.