365 days later and I sit down to write an article about a year of immeasurable growth.

And no, I’m not talking about getting taller.

I’m talking about rediscovering my will to live.

One year ago, on April 6th, I was suicidal. At that point in my life I had to write a list and refer to it daily to remind myself why I shouldn't take my life.

Needless to say, that list wasn’t always enough for me. There were several moments where I was centimeters away from death.

And yet, on April 6th, I drove 39 miles and walked into an office to meet you.

You were interviewing me— trying to see if the mental health program for teens was a good fit.

We talked for about fifteen minutes. I told you how I wanted to stay close to my family, no matter what, because they were the main— if not only— reason I was hanging on to life.

You then mentioned the psychiatric hospital your program was affiliated with, and how that had potential to help.

I insisted again how I wanted to stay with my family.

After more discussion you came to the conclusion that I would benefit from being admitted to the psychiatric hospital.

My stomach plunged while my heart rose to my throat, choking me with fear. My pulse quickened and my eyes bulged in disbelief.

I was angry. Did you not just hear how I spent the last ten minutes talking about how I wanted to stay with my family?

Yet you were adamant. You knew my life was in danger.

And so I was admitted to the hospital. You kept on trying to make small talk throughout the process but I ignored you.

I was pissed.

I thought you were sentencing me to death, because being exiled from my family meant I had no more reason to live.

I committed to memory how you had scars on your wrists and was so utterly confused as to how someone who had suffered in the past from the same illness could do something like this to me.

I hated you. I thought you were a monster. I wanted nothing to do with you. The sense of betrayal was permeating between us.

I thought you wanted to help, but from what I could tell, you were making the worst mistake of my entire life.

Well, 525,600 minutes later (give or take a few) and I am proud to say that I have never been more wrong in my entire life.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

You’ve given me back the things on my list of reasons to live and more.

You’ve given me opportunities to laugh and cry. To hug my family and kiss my dogs. To reconnect with old friends and make some amazing new ones. To learn life lessons and the drums. To fall out of isolation and to fall in to love.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.