Why I'm Finally Opening Doors That Have Been Closed for Years


Editor’s note: If you struggle with self-harm, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

Tonight I’m going to open doors that have been closed for years, Not just shut — chained, barred and boarded over. Piles of memories blocking them to not be opened again. I peek into the keyhole every once and awhile only to be startled by the darkness.

I’m going to talk about my battle with depression, cutting and suicidal thoughts…

My ears are ringing, hands are clammy and my throat feels like sandpaper.

Clinical depression is something that doesn’t care if you have an amazing upbringing. It doesn’t matter if you have awesome things going on, or even if you have a kick-ass support system.

It’s a void, a black hole sucking all the good out of your life. You can’t get out of your own way, you’re stuck in this moment that’s suffocating you.

Well, that’s how it felt for me…

The lights are off, the spiral staircase goes on for miles, you climb and climb, until you can’t feel your legs attempting to reach the light. The moment you get close enough to touch it, the stairs become slick and you’re sliding backwards. Trying to desperately cling to the railing and not loose your footing.

That’s how I’ve felt a lot in my lifetime. When I was a teenager I was overwhelmed with life. I never really felt like I fit in, I was always trying to find happiness in my latest boyfriend, trying to feel worthy of something. Everyone I loved seemed to leave, whether by tragic accident or suicide. People I thought I’d have in my life forever always seemed to leave. School was overwhelming and I felt dumb all the time. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to be worthy of someone. I wanted control when everything was spinning out of control.

I thought I found control in cutting.

In the beginning I cut as a distraction, the pain brought me back to reality. I cut where no one could see. It was just for me.

After awhile it wasn’t enough, the pain wasn’t enough. When I was at my worst I cut deep hoping today was the day it would end. I didn’t care, I couldn’t cope, I was cycling so fast and so out of control that nothing mattered in that moment.

I’d love to say that I’m all better and I don’t struggle anymore, but that would be a big fat lie.

I don’t cut anymore, but I still cycle.

I still struggle with depression and the darkness.

I’ve watched families and friends who have lost someone to suicide.

I know the grief of losing someone you love to suicide.

I have moments of seeing my death at my own hands still, but I can’t follow through because I don’t want my boys to feel like they weren’t enough. They are my reason for sucking it up and powering through my darkness. They keep me here even when there are days where I feel like they’d be better off without me.

This is my story, my truth and no one else’s.

I speak for me and I’m sharing to let others know they aren’t alone.

I have my boys, my husband, family and friends who I know love me, but there are days where none of it seems to matter.

I talk about my life because it helps to keep me in check.

If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.


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