What I’m about to say sounds pretty crazy.
And although I hate when anyone refers to someone with a mental illness as “crazy,” I have to admit, this thought is quite strange and irrational – even for me.
If you’ve followed my journey with mental health, you know that four years ago I attempted to take my life – twice in just a few month’s time.
If you’ve followed my blog, you also know I haven’t written in quite some time. So, quickly, please accept my apology.
However, as I’ve always said, I created this blog as a platform to vent, to talk, to rant, to breathe, and to heal. And, to be frank, I just didn’t feel like writing the past few months (because it’s also my full time career). So I didn’t.
But today, I’m back.
And I’m back with a bizarre secret, (that’s no longer so secret):
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been dead for the past four years.
Ok. Don’t freak out.
I’m not unhinged (for the most part).
Instead, I think I’ve just been trained to think outside the box (thanks M.I.T).
I’m a deep thinker who looks for answers, patterns, and connections.
I’m a passionate explorer.
I’m a creative who enjoys exercising her brain to consider abstract thoughts about life, love, religion, or politics – you name it.
It’s just what I do.
And when it comes to my last suicide attempt, and when I think of how much I have grown, how strong I have become, and how much peace I have come to know, I don’t think it’s so irrational to sometimes consider if the life I’m living now is some slice of a heaven – especially compared to the hell I used to live.
I know I’m alive.
And I’m so incredibly thankful I’m alive.
I’m so blessed that things got better for me and that I had the support system I did.
I also know I’m alive because can feel, experience, grow, eat, walk, touch, smell, and that my actions have consequences.
I still go to work every day.
I pay bills.
I cry sometimes.
I get hurt.
I’m human – just like anyone else.
But the life I live now is so drastically different than the one the girl I was four years ago lived.
So different that it’s hard to wrap my head around sometimes.
So different that being in ‘some sort of heaven’ almost makes more sense.
(The Good Place anyone?)
The person I am now is genuinely hopeful, and loving, and kind, and happy, and healthy, and determined, and honest, and ambitious, and is an advocate.
And because of all of those things, sometimes I just can’t help but wonder:
How did so much change for me?
How did I become this person?
How am I still here?
How did I make it out alive?
Sometimes I feel like I need someone to pinch me. Because although it’s not always easy – sometimes it all just seems too good to be true when compared to where I once was.
I found the kind of peace I used to cry and wish for.
I found what I had lost.
I found myself.
The way I see it, I have to be here for a reason.
I have to have survived for a reason.
I was given the opportunity to change things around, to learn from my mistakes, to share my story, and to help others.
I was given another chance.
And I refuse to waste it.
Thank you to each and every person who has made the last four years feel more like heaven.
Thank you to Aemelia for inspiring me to write again.