September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day, and this year, To Write Love On Her Arms’ campaign is “And So I Kept Living.” Upon seeing this, I came to find this campaign even more profound than last year’s “We’ll See You Tomorrow”. The two campaigns have aligned so perfectly with my own journey of grief and recovery, a journey I’ve kept mostly to myself until this point.
Last year’s World Suicide Prevention Day came about five months after my mom’s best friend’s suicide. Without entirely realizing it, I’d spent those five months in a daze, knowing only that I had to wake up every morning. I hadn’t always had this perspective. For years, I went to sleep each night half-wondering if I could just not wake up in the morning. If I would finally find an end to my ever-looming unhappiness. If I would one day not go to school day after day, pretending to be fine—happy, even. And although suicide wasn’t on my mind each of those nights, I went through life without any strong desire to live. I was a busy and involved person in high school, and this constant distraction was what held me up. When I found myself without something to do for school or mock trial or theatre, I would crumble. Falling asleep at night was agony because I was alone with nothing to do but think.
When my mom lost her best friend, I watched the grief take its toll on her—on both of us. I can still feel the echoes of the moment she told me, the feeling that the earth was collapsing in on itself. I cried so much, partially because of the grief and partially because it was the only thing I felt physically capable of doing sometimes. When I emerged from my shock, one thought rang in my mind, loud and clear: I have to stay alive. I refused to be the next person to put my mom through immense pain. And so I kept living.
That fall, I went off to college and when September 10th rolled around, I pondered how to complete the sentence “You’ll see me tomorrow because ____.” I thought back on the time that had elapsed since Brittany’s death, and what had changed between those two points. At that point, I realized I no longer tolerated living without meaning or happiness. On a sheet of paper I then taped up to my mirror, I wrote “You’ll see me tomorrow because I’m figuring out how to be happy.” And so I kept living.
Last winter, in the three weeks at school between Thanksgiving and Winter breaks, I fell down again. I was unbelievably homesick, I felt distant from my friends, I wanted to go home, and I went back to not wanting to live. But I held onto the first few months of college, the ones that filled me with friendship and happiness and life. And so I kept living.
This year, as April 17th drew nearer, I slipped back into the daze I lived in last spring. Despite being busier than ever, my thoughts were increasingly centered on life and suicide and Brittany. I felt distant and distracted. I was highly aware of any mention of suicide—and these mentions sent me into a breakdown almost every time. Because of my newfound desire for happiness and life, I couldn’t handle living in that state. I finally did what I’d been saying I would do since starting college, and I began counseling. I finally started speaking out loud thoughts I’d had for years, but had kept to myself and I began to find what some might call closure. And so I kept living.
Summer came and I went home and spent a lot of time alone, like I had in high school. But unlike the times in high school, I didn’t feel empty. I didn’t feel disconnected. I had happy memories and future excitement to sustain me, and I found some pleasure in the time I had to read or write or walk or think. Rather than collapsing in on myself, I kept in touch with friends and sought out happiness. And so I kept living.
I’ve been back at school for a week and have been busier than I ever thought possible for the first week of classes. Being busy and stressed hasn’t stopped me from feeling unhappy or from crying when I need to or from panicking about the future. But I'm no longer moving from day to day without direction or motivation. I now trust that the people around me will support me, pick me up, and even make me smile when I need it. I remind myself that life is stressful and painful and difficult—it’s always been this way and chances are that it will continue to be this way. But that doesn’t mean that life is without the good and bright and beautiful. And so I keep living.
Suicide is never the answer. Hope is real. You are not alone.
For more information on suicide prevention and mental health support, visit twloha.com
