In honor of the end of Suicide Awareness Month and my post last week, I have a confession.
For a brief time in high school, I had suicidal thoughts.
Now, I told my parents as soon as they occurred; however, suicidal thoughts and attempts are serious issues and I pray that with this blog post you don’t think I’m discounting anyone else’s reasonings or illnesses. All I am doing is telling my side and what I experienced.
You see, my thoughts tapped into a different issue in my life–my religion.
For those of who you don’t know, I have always considered myself a fairly strong Christian (more on that next week), which led to some interesting conversations and topics to think about and discuss with others. This time, my main struggle could be summed up in just one word: Choice.
I didn’t understand why, if Heaven was so great, God made us stay down on earth. It just didn’t make sense. Why would God, the creator of Heaven and earth, who loves us dearly, let us stay in a place where we were challenged, hurt, broken, tortured, etc. Why would he allow such a horrible world to exist if there was such a wonderful one available? Why did he give us a choice in if we wanted to go to Heaven or not if it was so wonderful? What was the point of earth? What was the point of my place in it?
What was my purpose?
When my parents got inklings of these thoughts and what they might entitle, my mom brought me to TCBY (a frozen yogurt place) to talk. In fact, I remember the day so clearly, it seems as though it happened a few hours ago even though it has been a few years.
There was nobody besides the workers when we went in. I was terrified. I was always seen as the strong one, the one who could separate her emotions from her thoughts and choices, and there I was, not being able to make sense of anything. I was struggling.
My mom and I each got some yogurt and it wasn’t long before I was breaking down in tears in front of her. In TCBY. One of the few times I had ever broken down in tears in a public place. Not fun.
My mom was amazing. She was comforting. She was honest. She opened up about some similar opinions. She even cried with me. She gave me some pointers. I started a journal of new things, where each day I would write something new I did each day. Sometimes it was a small thing like tying my shoe with one hand, and on other days it was big things. But, eventually, I started to see why I was here and why the earth exists.
And honestly, I don’t know if I ever would have actually followed through on my suicidal thoughts, but the point still stands. Everyone matters.
So, as Suicide Awareness Month reaches a close, I want to remind you that suicidal thoughts can show up in a variety of ways. It doesn’t mean that one way is more right or more wrong, it’s just different. It also doesn’t mean a thought should be dismissed because of a mental illness or a generally rough time. Everything matters, but only if you value it as such. Only if you value yourself as such.
I love you.
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This post is part of the “I am Christian” posts, which can be found here. To see all posts, click here.
Categories: I am Christian