100 Reasons Why You Should Keep Living

100 Reasons Why You Should Keep Living

Reasons why you should keep living even though you feel like dying.
3673
views

Sometimes it just seems like everything is too much. There is too much stress, too much failure, and too much pain. It can seem as though the only way to solve all of your problems is to end your life. I have known so many people, myself included, who have had to struggle through depression at some point in their lives. To these people, it can often seem as though there is no reason to live anymore and as though everything is just meaningless. However, it is the little things in life that you have to think about. There is so much that you would miss out on if you died and so many people who would miss you. While I was in the midst of a very difficult time, I decided that it might be nice to make up a list of reasons to keep on living and it helped me out tremendously. I've decided to share this list so that it might help out other people who are struggling with similar issues. So here it is...

1. To love and be loved

2. To see the end of the world

3. Music

4. To prove them all wrong

5. Because someday it will be better

6. To see the person who just makes your day

7. Chocolate

8. Cats

9. Dogs

10. To make the world a better place

11. To dream

12. To watch lightning storms

13. To cuddle under the stars

14. To eat food

15. To read all the books you haven't read yet

16. Bad jokes

17. To feel the sun on your skin

18. Animals

19. To be free

20. To be with the one you love

21. To see what happens next

22. To see all the new Pokemon

23. Disney

24. For things that excite you

25. Fresh baked cookies

26. Warm spring days

27. Fresh flowers

28. Harry Potter

29. Your friends

30. Your family

31. Raising kids

32. Snow days

33. Knowledge

34. Bright blue skies

35. To create something amazing

36. To say that you made it

37. Fresh rain

38. Hugs and kisses and love

39. Full moons

40. Water skiing

41. To be better

42. Your favorite song

43. Naming fish

44. Scrapbooking

45. Sparkles

46. Crazy hair days

47. Evening walks in the park

48. Your favorite food

49. New experiences

50. Cookie dough

51. Sunsets

52. Sunrises

53. Deep conversations

54. Sarcasm

55. New hair cuts

56. New clothes

57. Ice cream

58. Your first kiss

59. Any kiss

60. Clear water on a white sand beach

61. Warm covers

62. Frozen lemonade

63. Prom

64. Dressing up

65. Dressing down

66. Sleeping all day

67. Your favorite stuffed animal

68. Your first house

69. Inside jokes

70. Little sentimental things

71. Smiles

72. Because I care

73. Scented candles

74. The ocean

75. Babies

76. Pictures

77. Cool scissors

78. Shooting stars

79. Blushing

80. Dolls

81. Blankets out of the dryer

82. Slippers

83. The things you don't expect

84. Pillow fights

85. Dancing in the rain

86. Laughter

87. Freshly cut grass

88. Sleeping under the stars

89. Bakeries

90. Walking in the moonlight

91. Taking a deep breath

92. Getting married

93. Clouds

94. To be strong

95. Rainbows

96. Hope

97. Prayer

98. Making a difference

99. Believing in something

100. Reaching somewhere so you can help everyone else

Popular Right Now

Yes, I Had A Stroke And I'm Only 20

Sometimes bad things happen to good people.
20210
views

Recently, I read an article on Cosmo that was written by a woman that had a stroke at the ripe old age of 23. For those of you who don't know, that really doesn't happen. Young people don't have strokes. Some do, but it's so incredibly uncommon that it rarely crosses most people's minds. Her piece was really moving, and I related a lot -- because I had a stroke at 20.

It started as a simple headache. I didn't think much of it because I get headaches pretty often. At the time, I worked for my parents, and I texted my mom to tell her that I'd be late to work because of the pain. I had never experienced a headache like that, but I figured it still wasn't something to worry about. I went about my normal routine, and it steadily got worse. It got to the point that I literally threw up from the pain. My mom told me to take some Tylenol, but I couldn't get to our kitchen. I figured that since I was already in the bathroom, I would just take a shower and hope that the hot steam would relax my muscles, and get rid of my headache. So I turned the water on in the shower, and I waited for it to get hot.

At this point, I was sweating. I've never been that warm in my life. My head was still killing me. I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, trying to at least cope with the pain. Finally, I decided that I needed to go to the hospital. I picked up my phone to call 911, but I couldn't see the screen. I couldn't read anything. I laid down on the floor and tried to swipe from the lock screen to the emergency call screen, but I couldn't even manage that. My fine motor skills were completely gone. My fingers wouldn't cooperate, even though I knew what buttons needed to be pressed. Instead of swiping to the emergency call screen, I threw my phone across the room. "Okay," I thought, "Large muscle groups are working. Small ones are not".

I tried getting up. That also wasn't happening. I was so unstable that I couldn't stay standing. I tried turning off the running water of the shower, but couldn't move the faucet. Eventually, I gave up on trying to move anywhere. "At what point do I just give up and lie on the floor until someone finds me?" That was the point. I ended up lying on the floor for two hours until my dad came home and found me.

During that two hours, I couldn't hear. My ears were roaring, not even ringing. I tried to yell, but I couldn't form a sentence. I was simply stuck, and couldn't do anything about it. I still had no idea what was going on.

When the ambulance finally got there, they put me on a stretcher and loaded me into the back. "Are you afraid of needles or anything?" asked one EMT. "Terrified," I responded, and she started an IV without hesitation. To this day, I don't know if that word actually came out of my mouth, but I'm so glad she started the IV. She started pumping pain medicine, but it didn't seem to be doing anything.

We got to the hospital, and the doctors there were going to treat me for a migraine and send me on my merry way. This was obviously not a migraine. When I could finally speak again, they kept asking if I was prone to migraines. "I've never had a migraine in my whole life," I would say. "Do you do any drugs?" they would ask. "No," I repeated over and over. At this point, I was fading in and out of consciousness, probably from the pain or the pain medicine.

At one point, I heard the doctors say that they couldn't handle whatever was wrong with me at our local hospital and that I would need to be flown somewhere. They decided on University of Maryland in Baltimore. My parents asked if I wanted them to wait with me or start driving, so I had them leave.

The helicopter arrived soon after, and I was loaded into it. 45 minutes later, I was in Baltimore. That was the last thing I remember. The next thing I remember was being in the hospital two weeks later. I had a drain in my head, a central port, and an IV. I honestly didn't know what had happened to me.

As it turns out, I was born with a blood vessel malformation called an AVM. Blood vessels and arteries are supposed to pass blood to one another smoothly, and mine simply weren't. I basically had a knot of blood vessels in my brain that had swelled and almost burst. There was fluid in my brain that wouldn't drain, which was why my head still hurt so bad. The doctors couldn't see through the blood and fluid to operate, so they were simply monitoring me at that point.

When they could finally see, they went in to embolize my aneurysm and try to kill the AVM. After a successful procedure, my headache was finally starting to subside. It had gone from a 10 on the pain scale (which I don't remember), to a 6 (which was when I had started to be conscious), and then down to a 2.

I went to rehab after I was discharged from the hospital, I went to rehab. There, I learned simple things like how to walk and balance, and we tested my fine motor skills to make sure that I could still play the flute. Rehab was both physically and emotionally difficult. I was constantly exhausted.

I still have a few lingering issues from the whole ordeal. I have a tremor in one hand, and I'm mostly deaf in one ear. I still get headaches sometimes, but that's just my brain getting used to regular blood flow. I sleep a lot and slur my words as I get tired. While I still have a few deficits, I'm lucky to even be alive.

Cover Image Credit: Neve McClymont

Related Content

Connect with a generation
of new voices.

We are students, thinkers, influencers, and communities sharing our ideas with the world. Join our platform to create and discover content that actually matters to you.

Learn more Start Creating

Remembering Those Who Love Me Kept Me From Acting On My Suicidal Thoughts

I couldn't hurt them like that.

953
views

In honor of National Suicide Awareness Month, I'm finally talking openly about my experiences. And this is...so hard for me to write.

And not just because it's hard to write about these things. In fact, I'm worrying more about my various family members and their reactions to this, because no one knew I was going through this. Feeling this way. And I know they'll blame themselves for not being there more or making me feel like I could come to them, when the complete opposite is true.

At one point in my life, I felt suicidal.

I don't exactly recall when the suicidal thoughts started. At best, the first time I remember having a suicidal thought was senior year of high school. It always began as a spiral, tipped off by some anxious line of thinking, usually ending like this:

I can't talk to anyone about these feelings. They'll freak out.
I can't go back to therapy again.
God I'm so broken.
I don't want to keep living anymore.

I always felt inadequate compared to those around me. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, while all my friends had even an idea, enough to declare a major in college. They knew what they were good at, while I floundered and failed.

I never felt like I could truly talk to my friends, not even my best friend at the time. I knew she and my other friends had their own mental things to deal with, and I didn't want to become a burden to them. Another thing they had to worry about on top of themselves. I felt that I had to be the strong one for them...but didn't have anyone to do the same for me.

I certainly couldn't talk to my parents. We just didn't have that kind of relationship back then. It would be a long time before we did.

I was scared to return to therapy. I had a negative association with therapy from past experiences attending it, and refused to go back. It would take a long time--and more negative experiences--before I conceded to returning to therapy.

I constantly felt weak and broken. My happy-go-lucky attitude around my friends, the persona I put up around everyone at school always felt as fake as it was. But I clearly did a good enough job at acting like I was okay, since no one ever checked in on me. No one realized how badly I was struggling. I didn't even write about any of what I was experiencing in a journal, as if writing it down somewhere would make it that much more real. As if writing it down would make me officially broken and crazy, unable to handle things on my own like everyone else did.

It all added up to a point where, in my lowest depressed moments, that last thought would pop into my head:

I don't want to keep living anymore.

I'd get so tired of pretending that things were okay. I'd feel so tired of not having a clue about my life and what I wanted to do with it. Of not living up to everyone's expectations, real or imagined. I'd get so tired of constantly pushing through day-to-day life, feeling all alone, like no one cared about me.

It became all too easy to want to just die. To stop feeling everything at once.

The funniest thing is, I didn't want to actually kill myself. I simply wanted numbness, to stop feeling so much, so intensely. Death, to my troubled mind, just naturally seemed like the perfect way for all those thoughts to just stop. For all the mental damage I was dealing with to simply end.

I couldn't picture myself physically doing the act. Not to mention, I knew that my death would bring so much pain to those who loved me, that I couldn't possibly bring myself to hurt them like that. To bring such a horrible thing upon them. I couldn't do that to my parents, my sisters, who didn't deserve to lose a daughter, a sister. My boyfriend, who was staying by my side through it all--who wasn't and somehow still hasn't been pushed away by my mental struggles--and clearly cared about me, who clearly wanted me to stay in his life.

The biggest person I couldn't do it to was my grandma. She was always my biggest supporter, a best friend when I had no other friends in my life. She got me through so much and was the biggest constant in my life. My grandma always knew just what to say, or not say, when I was upset. She meant the world to me, and vice versa. I was her first grandbaby, and have a special place in her heart. I could never, ever hurt her in such a way. Even as I write this now, long after I've stopped having those thoughts, it makes me to cry to think I could ever hurt my grandmother that way.

In those moments, when I'd feel so low those suicidal thoughts appeared in my mind, I'd also remember all those who loved me--even though it would feel like no one actually cared about me.

After four years of having these thoughts, I finally hit rock bottom mentally. Not in the sense that I finally felt like I would do it--but I finally realized I couldn't go on feeling these things, dealing with my anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts without help.

It's been a long time since I last wished I could just die. I'm getting help, and starting antidepressants helped significantly in stopping my brain from tossing those negative thoughts around.

To my family, Grandma, Josh:

Thank you. You became my light at the end of a tunnel, even when I couldn't see that light. Even when I didn't even realize it was there. I LOVE YOU.

Thank you.

To those who continue to struggle everyday:

YOU ARE LOVED.

YOU ARE IMPORTANT.

YOU ARE WORTHY OF LIVING.

YOU MEAN SOMETHING TO SOMEONE, EVEN ONE PERSON, IN THIS WORLD.

You are all of these things and so much more. This will pass, and you will be okay. I know it can feel impossible that you'll ever feel okay again, but I promise you, you will.

Reach out to someone.

I know this can be one of the hardest things to do. You may feel like no one will understand, or that people will judge you for feeling as you do. It's true, they may not fully understand. But do your best to help them understand, by explaining as much as you can. Whatever amount you can explain to them will make a difference. It will help them, help you.

If you don't have someone in your life that you feel you can talk to, I highly recommend calling the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. I know this can feel impersonal and like they're only saying things because it's their job to, and maybe that's mildly true. But this is a whole organization of people who work tirelessly to help people like us realize we have things to live for. That WE are worth living for. If that doesn't say "we care," I don't know what does.

You are worth living for. And I love you, whoever you are, even though we don't know each other. I love you because I know how hard this is, and we all need to know someone out there cares. I'm proud of you for making it this far.

You will be okay.

IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW ARE STRUGGLING WITH SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND/OR TENDENCIES, REACH OUT IMMEDIATELY. NO ONE SHOULD GO THROUGH THIS ALONE. SUICIDE IS SERIOUS.

National Suicide Hotline: 1 (800) 273-8255 - available 24/7

Related Content

Facebook Comments