If staying alive were enough, we wouldn’t be considering suicide.
To be perfectly honest, I dread and resent this day. I know that’s a very unpopular opinion, but I’m not sorry. I just can’t embrace it and write a tearjerker post about my close calls with suicide and how glad I am that I didn’t succeed.
I’m not glad I didn’t succeed. I’m not actively suicidal right now, but my life is difficult and painful every day. If any one of my suicide attempts had succeeded, I wouldn’t have to drag myself through that every day. I wouldn’t have to worry about whether I can find a doctor who will give me medication to manage my chronic pain. I wouldn’t have to worry about becoming homeless because my disability check isn’t enough for anyone to survive on. I wouldn’t have to worry about how to get therapy when no one thinks I need help. I wouldn’t have to worry about…
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a day with depression 