Just to be clear, it is important to me that you understand the world is a better place with you in it. I would like you to understand the options you’ve been considering are options that will permanently solve a temporary problem.
And dig it —
I know that you’ve heard this before. I know that nothing I write (or say) can change the way you think or feel. But still, I’d like you to know a few things before you go back to some of your contemplations.
There are times when the world moves at such an intolerable pace. There are times when people feel so absolutely hopeless and helpless; and there are times when people are powerless—and when I say this I mean there are times when people believe as if that have been absolutely reduced to nothing. Nothing works and nothing changes. No matter how people try to fit, life does not seem to match. And it’s gross. It’s hard to deal with. It’s hard to look at life and see everything as painfully unfair and unwavering. No matter when—there is always something coming. There is always something impending and at any minute, something awful will come our way.
There are no lessons we learn at school that teaches us how to rearrange our thinking. I have said this before; there are no classes in grade school about how to be happy. Most of what we learn since the time we are small is the different kinds of socialization. And there it is; life. There’s this great big world out there with literally more than 7 billion people, and yet, amongst the system of normal everyday crowds is this unexplainable sense of loneliness—or for many people, there is a strange detachment and fear of unlikeness. There is no hope. There is something that somehow separates us from the rest of the world and renders us almost useless or unworthy.
But more, there is a pathway of thinking that always reverts back to the worst possible options and though I write this to you, nevertheless, none of these truths alleviate the bitter uniqueness that people feel when they want to exit their life.
It is unfair. And I don’t mind saying this. It was unfair for me when I believed as though no matter how I tired; no matter what I did, there was simply no way for me to acclimate to the world. There was always something different about me. There was always something different about my situation and more often than not, there was always something in my mind that kept me thinking that somehow, I was unfit for this world.
I remember hearing someone tell me that my life was beautiful. And I found this offensive. I remember that I was told that I look happy, and that I seem happy, and that at a glance, my life appeared to be a good thing. I remember being angry about this because I knew this was just an act. I remember being angry because I knew that I isolated out loud and in plain sight. Maybe there was truth to this. Maybe my life was beautiful but inside me was this burden of shame—there was the turbulence of the internal arguments and the tumultuousness of regret and discomfort.
It is safe to say that my judgment of self was absolutely brutal. And I say this openly and wholeheartedly. It is safe to say that I believed no matter how hard I try, there would always be this terrible sense of emptiness; that something would always be missing, something would always be wrong. That no matter how hard I tried; I would only be so close to my dreams, which means I could almost feel life at my fingertips, but yet, I would never be able to touch it or hold it.
I saw the numbers. I saw how many people suffer and struggle. I saw how many people lose to an avoidable death. And I saw myself in this equation and to be honest, intellectually the answers were clear. But emotionally, I was lost.
I had lost myself and there was nothing that made sense. Nothing seemed as if it were mine—or better yet, perhaps it would be best to describe myself as soulless and hopeless—I saw myself as virtually homeless because although I had a place to live; I had a roof over my head and yet, to me, it didn’t seem as if anything at all. I was only wandering like an unwanted vagrant in this world I’d look for any vacancy but eventually, I would always overstay my welcome. At that point, any of the quick little fixes I chose would do nothing but placate my demons for a while. But nothing ever silenced them.
I remember the moment when I dropped to me knees because to me, life was too heavy. I could barely breathe. I could hardly think. All I could do was feel this total sense of ineptness. All I could do was consider my doubts and more than anything, all I wanted was to be able to catch my breath, but no. There was no way for me to do this.
There are times when the moment is so impossibly unrelenting that we succumb to the waves of our depression. There were times when I swore, “This was it,” and that my life was over—but it wasn’t. I am not sure how and I am not always sure why, but I know that I am still here. I know there is something out there for me. I know there has to be because I am still alive; and thus, I am still breathing.
I know there are doctors and there are therapists and I know there are different ways people can find help. I know that there are professionals in this world and yet, I also know there are times when words are more painful and help is too impossible to think of. Professionals are somehow more intimidating than life itself. I know there were times when the words “I love you” would hurt me because in my heart, I believed that there was no love for me—I believed that no one could possibly love me because above all; I never learned how to love myself.
I will say that a time came—and no, I do not call this the Hand of God or a spiritual awakening. No, this was something else. I’m not sure why or how, but I hit my knees. I was so impossibly beaten. I clenched every possible muscle in my body and with all I had, I allowed every possible tear to fall. I let go. I let myself feel and cry and shame and hate. I let myself scream. I let myself shout. I let myself say everything there was to say but more than this; I let myself fight back and decide to live.
I don’t know why I survived myself. I just know that I did. And I don’t know about life being fair or unfair. I only know that life is all I have—and finally, today, I know that I want to live. I know that I might not make it on the best sellers list. I might not reach the top of the mountain either but I know that I have a better shot if I keep climbing.
And there you are, right now. You are alone (or so you think).
If there is anything I can say now; it’s this.
You have to get up. Get moving. Just go. Just scream. Say what you have to say and feel what you have to feel—and yes, this might hurt but believe me, when you scream; this is your soul fighting back. This is you demanding the life you want. This is you declaring your life back.
So GET UP and move.
And if you can’t move, call me.
I’m always up for a conversation.
Besides, I’d rather hear from you now than find out later . . .
and then I’d never hear from you again.