I've been suicidal since I was a teenager. I am now 50 years old. When I was young, I'd escape with my imagination. As we get older this world can weigh down the lightest dreams. I've been told I have a lot of reasons to be traumatized and depressed. It runs in the family. I've avoided therapy my whole life until recently. I regret not going sooner, it's definitely helped.
In the past, somehow I just kept going. I've been married for 26 years and have three grown children who I love dearly. I'm sure you're familiar with the cycle of good days, bad days, and worse days. Sometimes it seemed like the good day was never gonna come around. I'd ruminate on this world that doesn't make sense, and wished I were anywhere but here.
Every so often, I found a way for me to say, "Not Today." Maybe I looked at my kids, or my wife, and was able to smile. Sometimes the weight of responsibility for my family turned into strength. Or perhaps I discovered a new book, song, movie, or video game. Some days I'd summon every bit of willpower I had to go on a run or work out and let pain distract me from pain. Or I'd walk outside, away from busy streets if I could. A squirrel or a friendly dog, or some part of the natural world would help me get by.
When I finally got treatment last year, I was at the lowest I'd ever been. Last Novemner, right after Thanksgiving, my wife told me she wanted a divorce. I thought it was all my fault. I had grown distant, especially after the year of COVID, and some deaths in our family had sent me to the bottom. Then, a few weeks later, she told me she had cheated on me and was in a new relationship, and there was no chance of reconciliation.
It was the first time I called a hotline. The person I talked to was terrible, haha! I was so angry at them that it bought me another day. I called a different hotline, and it wasn't even the right one, but the kind receptionist spent 45 minutes talking to me. After we both cried, she gave me some other numbers to call.
I talked to a good friend, and he gave me another day. My sons gave me even more days. I talked to my daughter, and she saved me as soon I saw her. I found a therapist. I talked to a psychiatrist. I'm now on medicatiom and in regular therapy.
I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm looking forward to the next day, for better or worse or anything in between.
I guess once I got in the habit of journaling, I can't stop! I wish strength, clarity, and good will to anyone who has been gracious enough to read this far. If you want to talk, send me a message. I'll listen, or if you want I'll bore you with my life story :)