September is widely recognized as Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, and while I could write about how that came to be, that is not what I’m here to do. I’m here to give my perspective as someone who struggles with suicide. This story covers a harsher subject, so if you are not in the place to read this, please don’t. Put yourself first. 

I’m going to be blunt: I did not plan to be here. I didn’t think I would make it to middle school, let alone high school. I still can’t believe I’m a junior. Every new experience that I have is bittersweet. I enjoy the moment, but I get this little feeling in the back of my head that I shouldn’t be here. Like imposter syndrome. I didn’t think I would experience as much as I have, good or bad; and it always catches me off guard. Just the other day during first hour I had this realization that I have so much time. I have so much of my life left to live. I’ve barely even scratched the surface. It was so chilling to think about. I’ve got all of these milestones to hit that I never thought possible; college, marriage, adult job. At first, I was scared, and I still am; but I think now I’m excited? It’s hard to feel unselfish sometimes but I think I’m looking forward to growing up. It feels strange to finally be excited about something I thought was out of reach. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t see any other way out. I didn’t care about what I’d miss because it was “unrealistic” to think I could get there or that I even deserve it if I did. Lo and behold, here I am, little me. Five years later and I’m still here. 

So what does this month mean for me? Personally, it’s a chance for me to look back on myself with clear eyes. To look at how I felt and thought with more wisdom than before. My depression blinded me and I can see that now. I, at the very least, feel more secure in myself. I also enjoy seeing other people tell their stories, all of the amazing people that I never would have seen otherwise. It’s like this sense of community, which I admittedly don’t feel very often. I frequently find myself distancing from everyone and everything, even subconsciously. Like no matter how hard I try I always feel out of place. This is one of the few things that I feel like I genuinely belong in. 

Suicide is an incredibly hard subject to talk about. I get it. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s time to be uncomfortable. Be uncomfortable for the ones you love because they need you. I’d rather have an awkward conversation or a couple of awkward conversations than never be able to speak to them again, and I think most people would agree with me. My family, especially my dad, had to do it. I had to do it too, otherwise, I would not be here today. I hated it, but I would do it again in a heartbeat for any of my friends.

In writing this I’m discovering a lot about myself. I’m remembering and reliving what I’ve been through to get here and I’m so proud. I know that my recovery is not linear and that I will probably struggle for the rest of my life. That’s ok. As long as I remember there are people here for me I’ll be ok. Happy 17th to me, and thank you for reading.