I was thinking of a moment that seemed to have no other options. I was in a room “as they say” with no doors to the outside. Of course, I say this figuratively. I was at a place with no attractive resources. I came to a place where there was no exit, or at least, there wasn’t an exit that was attractive to me. I suppose that when there is no room left to fall, then there’s no room left to worry. This was it. This is the bottom. There was nothing left to add or subtract and the numbers dwindled down to one.
When there was no place left to fall and nowhere else to turn, I had nothing other than the sound of a resounding silence. I found myself alone. Perhaps not physically but otherwise, I was by myself and isolated in a public example. There was nothing else besides me and my consequences. There was me and my surrender and me and my thoughts.
I could not get away from my thinking; yet, there was nothing left to threaten me. I was at the bottom of my consequences and by all means, I was caught in the tides of my self-fulfilled prophecy. This was it. Do or die.
It was important for me to realize that to overcome is only a decision. And to overcome, even if it seemed impossible, I had to come to a point where my pain and discomfort out willed my fears of change. I realized that if my will and intent outweighed my concern, I could be capable of anything. But how?
This is the thing that nobody talks about. This is where the confusion comes in because everyone knows what to do and how to better their life. It seems the problem we have is implementation.
All I needed to do was take the first step.
I write this to you as a person who woke up on the ground after an attempt to end my own life. I write this as a survivor of myself; but more, I write this as a person who came to a special understanding. I had lived this way for a very long time. In fact, I was caught in the misunderstanding of self. I was lost in my misperceptions and stolen by the deceptions of my perception. If asked, I believed that this was me. There was nothing else to be said. This was it. I was faulty. My defects of character outweighed my benefits as a person. Of course, none of this was true; but to me, this was not only true but devastatingly true.
In the past, I used to fulfill the predictions that empowered me the least. In the past, I was the beast that people claimed me to be. I was untrustworthy. I was angry and growing angrier. I was loud and obnoxious. I was a cheat. I used people to my advantage because as I saw it, if given the chance, they would use me first. I was lonely and growing lonelier and I couldn’t figure out “Why.”
As the world turned, I found myself on a downward spiral. The more I wanted to be free, the deeper I sank into myself.
To be transparent, I have to admit this here: The mind can be a crazy place to live. And that’s exactly where I lived.
I had fallen into the despair of settled ideas. Understand?
What I mean is I had taken the choice to settle for less because as I saw it, I would rather have less than have nothing at all. However, I never realized that taking less was worse than having nothing because nothing I had was anything I wanted.
I wanted a life the same as everyone else. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be wanted and included. I wanted to be invited; however, in my aim to please and be accepted, I tried to include myself as often as possible. Unfortunately, this never allowed me the chance to feel the complement of being wanted.
I didn’t like my work. I didn’t like the people who were in my so-called circle of friends. I was tired of all my familiar strangers, which is exactly how I saw my life: Familiar with strangers. I knew my way around. I knew the people around me yet at the same time, it seemed as if I didn’t know anyone or anything. Nor did it seem as if anyone or anything really knew me. Instead, we were all these free-flowing forms, tossed around on this place I like to call Project Earth.
First, I have to comment here and report that I understand this is specific to me. I acknowledge that this part of my journey is subjective. This is me. I get that. However, what I am revealing here is the attempt to show the inner workings and winding of the gears that turned in my head. I expose this openly like a diorama or three-dimensional model of my inner thinking. This was part depression and part anxiety. This was part of my personal bias and the structures of my past. This was part shame and part guilt. Plus, this was part regret, part disdain, part mournfulness, part loss, part loneliness and part blame.
I found myself at a crossroad. I was in the face of a choice. Either I lived or I died; either way, whichever direction I chose I would have to live with this for the rest of my life.
In all fairness, I was tired of being a hostage to myself and to everyone else. I was tired of being afraid. I was exhausted from always being “On” and trying to sell myself as if I were somehow defective and uneducated, but still necessary and useful. I was tired of being uncomfortable. I was even more tired of the ongoing conversations that rambled in my head. I would relive old conversations and try to reword them so that I could feel better about the outcome. I rethought old arguments that didn’t seem to go my way and whenever I did this, I felt the sting of my old, unresolved tensions. In which case, I never allowed myself to heal because I kept reintroducing myself to the wounds that were no longer relevant.
Something I share with you often is something I have to share now. In the face of my decision to live or die, I chose to live. I chose to decide life and while doing this, I opened my very first journal with the words: “My redemption has nothing to do with your response.”
I thought of a television series I used to watch. I thought about a man who lost his leg in battle. He explained that he could still feel his leg but it wasn’t there. He talked about a dream he had about running through a field on a farm. He talked about having a dance with his high school sweetheart. And when he woke up, it was as though he relived the pain he felt when he lost his leg. Come to think of it, there was another series when a man spoke about this with his son. Each time he woke up after dreaming about his boy, it was as though he lost his son all over again.
I had to stop reliving my losses. I had to stop reliving my thoughts that pulled me back; but more, I had to stop interacting with the ideas that nearly killed me. Whether by my own hand or by actions that would have contributed to my death, I had to learn how to live.
This was the action that saved my life.
It all began with a commitment to write on a daily basis. This all started with a journal that opened with an idea to save my own life. Therefore, I will never allow myself to be the beast that someone else claims me to be. I will not quit. I will not give in. Not anymore.
Instead, I keep going and do you know why?
It’s because I have things that I never had before.
I have you.
I have this trick I’ve been working on.
It’s taken a lot of growth and a lot of time for me to say this but above all, I finally have me.
Imagine that –