I know this is a bold and brazen statement to make when I know nothing of your life. Even if you haven’t actually tried to kill yourself, I am certain the thought has crossed your mind because light can’t always be seen from the darkness. This is not a judgement; this is for me as much as it is for you.
If you are reading this and have escaped the untimely claws of death then let me tell you I am glad you’ve made it so far. I am glad the blade didn’t cut deep enough, the gas didn’t work fast enough, the words didn’t shatter hard enough, the platform wasn’t high enough, the pills didn’t poison your insides enough, the rope didn’t hold long enough, the water didn’t flood deeply enough, the darkness wasn’t thick enough.
I am glad that you are breathing – even through corrupted lungs. I am glad you get to witness another day. I am glad you are reading this. I am glad you are here and because of that I am not alone. You are not alone either and perhaps that’s the point of it all. Look closely and you’ll notice that the difference between “living” and “loving” is one letter. Perhaps if we focus more on loving each other we’ll do better at living together – less alone.
Loving is a strange concept when it’s a wrestle to even acknowledge you’re worth something, but stick with me for a short while…
See, loving (read: “living”) is not some abstract, esoteric, out-of-touch, emotionally-charged feeling reserved for those lucky enough to find their soulmate. Loving (read: “living”) is for all of us. It’s practical. If loving (read: “living”) doesn’t involve action – a doing word – then it carries no meaning. Ergo, if living doesn’t involve action it carries no meaning.
Loving is easier than we make it out to be; living is easier than we make it out to be. It’s the dying that requires hard work. It’s the giving up and giving in that requires planning and effort but ultimately stops us from moving… stops us from meaning. It’s our resolve to fight for meaning that keeps us in motion; our resolve allows us to love and to live.
The fight for meaning looks different for everyone; it looks different for me and it looks different for you. The fight for meaning sometimes looks like excavating yourself from under the covers after a night of weeping. Sometimes it looks like habitually making a cup of coffee in the morning because this small ritual gives you purpose. Sometimes the fight takes the form of religion, sport, art, sleep, parties, treatment or travel. Sometimes the fight is finding yourself on the doorstep of a friend quietly asking if you can stay a while.
We are all fighting to live – to love. Surely this means we all have something to offer – to give. We have all defied death for a chance to try again – to persevere. If you’re reading this you’ve probably attempted suicide at least once before (physically, mentally or emotionally) but you have the chance now to help someone else or yourself – to be alive.
I see you. I acknowledge you. I salute your life. I am glad you are here. Keep fighting to love, to give, to persevere, to be alive.
I would love to hear your story if you need someone to talk to or just want to share. Feel free to comment below or send me an email directly here. I am here to listen and not to judge. I am here to fight and love with you.