Life is crazy.
For too long, though, I thought the senseless I saw all emanated from inside.
Years passed with so much challenge and pain that darkness enveloped me, my chest pounded under the weight of a thousand failures, and my head ached for relief. I couldn’t see a way out—at least not one including me.
I focused on everything I could never change; failing to change almost anything I could control.
On my good days, it’s inconceivable to contemplate that not only did I wish to end my existence; I actively worked to execute my own ending.
How could I have wanted to miss this life—the one I live in today?
Why didn’t someone tell me?
I guess some people did.
Many, in their own way, if I’m honest.
I just didn’t believe them. It didn’t seem possible.
It seemed like a colossal lie.
The lie, it turns out, is that ending that pain was the better path.
(Over the coming months, I’ll be posting the insights here of a dear friend. In an act of love and bravery, she is sharing her pain and journey toward mental health in the hopes of helping to heal others. The original posts can be found through The CARL Project on Facebook here.)