Pulling Back the Curtain
I knew he was struggling, but he told me was better.
Topic: suicide
I knew he was struggling, but he told me was better.
Nearly every day, I imagine the many ways in which I could die. Or I list off, in my head, the reasons why I should be dead.
I know what it’s like to have the voice in your head amplify your deepest insecurities and wounds.
You are not the dark thoughts that you have.
i stumbled upon the news of Jarrid’s death the following afternoon, Tuesday, World Suicide Prevention Day, around 5pm. My brain rejected it instantly. Impossible. The words could not be true.
Little bits of lost faith can be found in the most unlikely of places, and the most unexpected ways. From me to you, this is it.
Today reminds us that there are people who are hurting in this world, maybe even the people in our own lives, maybe even ourselves. And that’s okay.
A year ago I was hopeless, broke, and I wanted to die. I believed that at the age of thirty-six it was too late to make a life worth living. I was so scared of myself because I had no idea who I really was without drugs or alcohol.
I wanted to hear the candid account of someone in the middle, maybe just past the hardest days of this illness, but not quite to the happy ending where you’ve reached the place you never thought you would.
We refuse to stay silent, we refuse to let stigma and the shame it thrives on, encourage us to sit idly while hundreds of thousands of people struggle.
The conversations surrounding mental health in the Black community tend to get drummed down into a whisper; it becomes the uncomfortable silence at the dinner table when the name of a loved one too far gone to be brought back home comes up in a way that stirs the air.
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