I had been increasingly depressed for 6 months, to the point that it's a mystery how I kept a job/schooling/apartment; I wouldn't shower for 1-3 weeks at a time, slept in my car in the middle of Midwestern winter (wasn't even homeless), stopped eating, and started fading myself out of friends' lives. It was so easy. Being awake, alive, was what was difficult. I remember sitting up in my bed and just crying out, "why is living so hard?!!".
In retrospect, it should have been easy for others to spot how far I'd sunk... all of the suicide hotline advocating, random lashing out at loved ones, general disappearance from socializing... but we all think that afterwards. It wasn't anybody's fault.
The final month, I started prepping to die; had a will witnessed according to state law, gave/threw away everything I owned, stopped paying bills, and blew nearly 10K in life savings on loved ones & strangers... until finally spending my last few bucks on a bottle of sleep medicine. Work gave me a rare two days off in a row, so nobody would miss me for a couple days. I arranged my bed, and downed the bottle.
I think... worse than the suicide, is the shame of waking up from a failed attempt, alone in an empty room.
I sobbed until falling back asleep. The next morning, I called my grandma to ask how to get a grape jelly stain out of a pink shirt. Why? I don't know... I missed her. She rattled that she'd had a stroke earlier, and was now blind. I called off work, and drove hours, straight to her; she needed me. Somebody needed me.
It was then I started feeling waves of normality again. Taking care of someone else, took care of me. Little by little, I started showering again, brushing my teeth again, even putting makeup on again. When I finally got back to the apartment, I saw what it had become; a dump. I started working bit by bit. With every new room cleaned up, it was like a piece of me came back. I started answering my friends' texts.
Eventually, I came to terms with what was eating at me; abandonment issues stemming mainly from a mom who only saw her abusive ex-husband in me. I dealt with it by never going back home; I haven't seen my brothers or (step)dad in years, still, but I tell them I love them. These last few months in particular, life has really turned around. I now make it a point to volunteer, give charity, and most importantly, take care of myself. Be honest. It was a proud moment today when, even though I'm facing the second most difficult event in my life... not once were my instincts to kill myself, but to deal with the problem (no matter the difficulty).
Granny is doing fine now, even regained her sight, and I am doing alright, too. I haven't told anyone this story until now, and haven't figured out how to thank her, either. I'm better now, and don't want her to worry... sometimes life is difficult, but nothing (and no one), is worth giving up your life over. You are worth being happy.
*Tl;Dr: Spiraled out of control, tried killing myself, grandma had a stroke and turned my life around. Never did learn how to remove grape jelly from shirts, just stopped eating jelly.