It’s almost been a year and I haven’t really talked about it. There’s such a huge stigma surrounding survivors of suicide attempts (or however you say it), …it’s still hard to talk about. I’m ashamed but not really. It’s just difficult.

It’s difficult to describe how desperately lonely I felt. How at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else but ending my life. How I hated everything that was good and happy in my life.

“Isn’t that selfish? Taking your own life?” – well no.

No, because during the moment all you can hear is the lies. The lies that your disease is spewing out at you. The lies that “everyone is better off without you” and so on.

In fact, your body even believes those lies and starts to slow down a bit. You see, your body feels as though you’re walking through water wearing 30 lbs of weight. You’re almost paralyzed except for doing the actions to end your life.

But here’s the catch – if you listen hard enough? You can hear the hope.


Or you can see it.


And if you listen to that hope……you can hold onto it. And that’s what happened to me. I lost hope – but I found it in a parked car, on a hot summer day.

I hold onto that hope when things looks grim & gruesome.

Please remember friends, don’t let go of hope.