To the People Who Helped Me Save Myself When I Was Battling Suicidal Thoughts
From seventh grade until July, I have had suicidal thoughts. When I first had them, they weren’t as bad. Yet, recently they landed me inpatient at my local hospital four times in four months. After that, I spent four months in a treatment center in Chicago and two months in a treatment center in Minnesota.
Thank you to all the nurses who spent the time to talk to me past their shifts and who cared about me and what I was going through.
Thank you to the mental health workers who would spend hours with me every day, talking to me or just sitting with me if that’s what I needed.
Thank you to the doctors who helped me figure out the right medication. You gave me so much hope. I had so much trial and error in the past that I almost gave up. You helped me at my lowest, and I’m so grateful for you.
Thank you to all my friends in treatment. You helped me believe in myself. You taught me that even at my lowest point, I could still love myself. I love you for that.
Thank you to my friends and family who helped me realize I needed help. You couldn’t do much because I had to be ready to save myself.
Thank you to everyone in my life. You each have helped me for the better. You don’t know how much that means to me.
I’d choose cupcakes, ice cream, cookies, pizza and self-love over sugar free gum, six pretzels, 1/3 cup of nonfat yogurt and starvation any day, too.
You were wrong when you said this to me. Being fat isn’t the worst, but dying from a disease that makes you believe otherwise, is.
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