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September Suicide Awareness

Up until about 3 or 4 months ago, suicide was number one on my to do list.

I say that so casually, because, to think about suicide became so normal, such a routine thing. It, oddly, became an escapism; a relief from the battle I woke up every morning to fight. It was a way out, a quick solution if anything finally pushed my head under these waters.

Truthfully, all that stopped me from doing it, was my sister.

I was genuinely convinced I did not deserve to be here, that I did not deserve to get better.

But I knew that even if I did not deserve to be here, my sister did not deserve that pain.

That’s not to say I was selfish for those thoughts, or, if, I ever did take my own life: selfishness has nothing to do with it. Ending this pain, at any cost, goes past selfishness and selflessness.

It’s not to say I was doing it for attention, or for a ‘cry of help’. It has always been strange to me, so many others critique the act itself, whilst neglecting everything that comes before that. I’ve found that victim blaming comes from a place of fear: they don’t want to acknowledge this is indeed a reality.

I appreciate that me having someone else to live for is and was an absolute privilege, one that many won’t have.

I refuse to give advice to most now, on this blog: I’m not a trained professional, and I know myself what it feels like for someone’s words, although unintentional, to push you over the edge you were already teetering on.

But, please take 2 facts away from this.

It’s not YOU, you want to kill, it’s something in you. Or it’s because you can’t fight this tiredness anymore, to live with yourself as your everyday enemy.

NEVER listen to a depressed, suicidal, or any mentally ill mind. I could have been told 1000 reasons as to why I deserve to be here. And I still wouldn’t believe it.

That change is absolutely within your reach, if you’re even looking for it. If you are capable of love, acceptance, remorse, acknowledgement, or, again, the desire for it, it’s already within you. Believe me, you wouldn’t even think teenage me was present me: you are not your struggle, and, actually, you’re not always the way you deal with it either.

I’ve found there’s no moment that you are ever definitively defined, no matter what anyone else says or believes. Sure, there are stains on all of us, things we have to live with – it’s the human condition; but it’s always baffled me how people want others to be in a constant state of punishment, especially when they’re not evil – when did shame or guilt ever get anything done?

You can channel those emotions into higher levels, exist in a proactive emotional state – where you can take responsibility and still move on. You are what you have been up until this present moment; and in a moment that can change, even if that’s the decision to get help.

However, I also simultaneously believe it is never a victim’s obligation to empathise with their abuser, being a victim of something insidious myself. It helps some, it doesn’t help others. Sometimes even empathising can be a residue of manipulation, a failing to see someone as they really are – and in some cases, forever will be.

The journey of a victim is very different to that of an abuser – if the perpetrator ever decides to go on it.

Sometimes forgetting is the best forgiveness.

This is a personal choice, as most things are.

Went on a bit of a tangent there, possibly a little bit of projection.

But, keep strong. I am living proof you can absolutely believe it will never get better, and then life does that funny little thing; once you’ve allowed it.

And PLEASE, please, reach out for help. Even me:


Writing the truth, as I see it to be.

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