Come Alive
We can fight hard for others, but we cannot fight their battles. We are enough. They are enough. But what we do for them, sometimes, is not enough to save them.
Topic: suicide
He Was an Eagle
By telling our stories, we allow them to find the light, to find other people and other storytellers. Suicide took the power of storytelling from my brother.
The Catalyst of a Broken Heart
After my sister died, I did a lot of walking. I’d walk loops in woods behind my house; two, three, four times on the same trail.
I Was a Suicidal Therapist
I sat in an office all day telling clients all of the reasons to live, all of the ways to get out of depression, all of the things that made them important and why the world needed them. And I felt like a hypocrite each day, never believing a word I said when it came to myself.
Tell Them
When I used to feel suicidal, I felt so detached and numb. But having people vocalize their support—friends, family and therapists—made such a lasting impact, even though I didn’t realize it at the time.
I Found Therapy Through Music
Hilary’s death was a turning point in my life. I had struggled with depression, OCD, and anxiety for most of my existence, but I was afraid to tell anyone, except my mom, about it. I worried what other people might think of me. But when Hilary died by suicide, I realized I had to push past that worry and speak up.
Defying Definition
If I were to make a list of all the words I, or others, might use to describe me, it might include: “weird,” “inconsiderate,” “quiet,” “lonely,” “goofy,” “kind,” “awkward,” “focused,” and “depressed.”
She Is a Fighter
Her heart is pounding rapidly. Her head is throbbing. It feels like her chest is constricting and she can’t seem to catch her breath.
Happiness Goes On
This was the kind of depression that made me feel lonely when I was being hugged.
Tomorrow Needs Us to Continue the Work
Tomorrow and the tomorrows that follow will need you. We will need you here, joining us in this ongoing fight.
What I’ll Miss
Within a span of two years I’ve been hospitalized four times and made three attempts. This summer I spent 30 days in two psychiatric hospitals. Less than one week after leaving one hospital, I made another attempt.
And So I Stay
I have scars on my skin and on my soul. I am healing, but I am not healed; I am recovering, but have not recovered. I am a work in progress.
