I’m going to tell you guys a story.
It’s the story of a girl who slowly, slowly, slowly drifted into the darkness of depression–so slowly that she didn’t realize what was happening until she was at the bottom of the pit. This girl struggled. She collapsed onto a cold bathroom floor countless times, wondering if there was more out there for her. She needed to know that there was something beyond the ache of emptiness. The agony of loneliness. She cried, and cried, and cried, until it felt as if there were no possible tears left.
And then, she cried some more.
After a while, the depression convinced this girl that there was nothing more—at least, not for her. That this, this pain, was her destiny.
But the girl was so, so wrong. Because depression is a bold-faced liar.
If I could see that girl again, I’d sit beside her on that cold bathroom floor. I’d take her hand. And I’d tell her that yes, the nights could be so very dark and long, with no end in sight. But I’d also tell her that morning always comes, no matter how dark the night gets. That each sunrise brings new chances. New beginnings. That each breath is a declaration that she’s still here, and that she’s still winning this fight. She may feel beaten and rundown and defeated, but every breath is its own victory. In the battle against depression, we celebrate each and every victory.
I’d tell her that there’s a place for her here. And that while she may not be able to see it just yet, her place in the world cannot be filled by anyone but her. You see, this girl loved to tell stories. I’d let her know that no one could tell her stories better than she could.
If I could see that girl again, I’d tell her that even though things felt like they were falling apart, they were actually falling into place.
If you’re struggling, if your pain is crippling, if the tears just won’t let up, I hope you hear me when I say that while the world can be a beautiful place, it’s so much more beautiful with you in it. The night is dark, but I promise that the morning always comes, bringing with it a new beginning. Life is full of these new beginnings, some being much larger than others. Those beginnings aren’t always easy, but they’re so, so very worth it.
I love National Suicide Prevention Week and World Suicide Prevention Day, because they bring awareness to silent suffering. But every day is an opportunity to tell someone that we love them. That we’ve got their back. That we’d really miss them if they were gone. And that if they ever needed us to, we’d sit beside them on a cold bathroom floor and hold their hand.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (24/7): 1-800-273-8255
The Trevor Lifeline (24/7): 1-866-488-7386