If you or somebody you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Five months ago I wrote a suicide letter. Five months ago I was seemingly happy, from the outside I wore a smile and laughed and went through the motions of life. Five months ago I was drowning behind closed doors. I shut my closest friends and family out of that part of my life and the weight that I had been carrying on my shoulders began to cave in. Day after day I had picked up another piece of my past and added it to the pile of my present day struggle.

I think if you would have asked anyone in my life five months ago if I wanted to die they would have laughed. They would have said that you were crazy. I’m the girl that talks about her nieces and nephews like they’re my children, the girl that loves her parents more than anything, the girl that treats her close friends like her family, the girl that laughs and sings around in the kitchen. However, I was also the girl that was so completely broken inside. As the year progressed I realized that I was unhappy, I lost sight of everything I had held so important in my life. My nights turned into a battleground within my brain questioning every part of my life including if it was worth it to stay.

The problem is I hadn’t reached a breaking point, I wasn’t prompted to end my life because of a severe trauma. I had allowed many breaking points that I hadn’t dealt with accumulate and break me. I was the one that made sure everyone else was okay, that made sure everyone else knew I was proud, everyone else knew I loved them endlessly. I had prided myself on being the strongest one, the one that didn’t allow things to go past the surface. The one that never truly knew how to ask for help. I tried to silence every doubt I had about myself with temporary fixes. Those fixes ran out quicker than I could handle and the holes I tried to fill got deeper.

November rolled around and I couldn’t take it anymore, I made a decision one night that I was done. I was sitting on my bed surrounded by pieces of myself and I was so unbelievably empty. All the fears of not being good enough, not being smart enough, strong enough, pretty enough, brave enough came back to the surface and I didn’t have the energy or the means to silence them. I sat there and listened to every voice in my head that had tried to destroy me. Then everything stopped because I realized I could make it stop, permanently. No more temporary fix, no more battles. I could have the peace that I thought I was searching for. I was done with everything. I wanted to die.

Five months ago I had everything set to end my life, but I knew there was a step I needed to take in order to do so. I did not realize it at the time, but this decision was the one that saved my life.

I took out a notebook and I wrote a suicide letter. My letter consumed my night for hours I wrote, I apologized, I said my goodbyes. I realized as I was writing that I had so many people that I had to make sure were OK, that I had to tell them that I loved them and I was so proud and I wish that I was stronger. I had so many words still left. I finally finished it after hours and hours, but I decided to reread it. I realized that I had more to say, so I wrote again. For almost two weeks I rewrote my letter. I told myself that if I could get my words perfectly arranged, if I could just get everything right, if I gave everyone a proper goodbye, then I would be done. This would be the sign that it was OK to go, it was OK to leave.

I thank God every day since that I couldn’t get my words perfectly arranged. I never was happy with my end result. I kept telling myself that I just wanted it to be perfect, it was the last piece of writing and I wanted it to be exactly what I wanted it to be. I wanted something from it that I could not give myself: a goodbye.

My suicide letter saved my life. Every day I rewrote that letter because I had something more to say, something more to add. It’s pretty ironic what I thought would be my final goodbye became the biggest wake up call. I realized I wasn’t just editing a piece of writing, I wasn’t just being over critical of my own writing, I was searching for a reason. Those pages gave me so many reasons to stay, the goodbyes transformed into I never want to leaves.

I realized that there were so many moments I wanted to witness. I realized I wanted to be here to see my parents 50th wedding anniversary, to watch my nieces and nephews grow, to tease my siblings, to watch my best friend graduate nursing school, to give myself another chance.

I have read that letter almost every day since I wrote it. I learned that strength is not always being strong it is about acknowledging the weakness within yourself. I learned that even if the world takes pieces of you, it is always possible to rebuild. I learned that I am worthy of life. I learned that mistakes have the ability to derail you, but that detour is not permanent.

However, the reality is that every day I struggle, but I no longer let that struggle consume me. I am still learning so much about myself and I am so happy I gave myself the chance to do that. I am still learning how to rebuild myself and I am still learning that it’s OK to change. I am still learning that self-worth is what you decide not what they say.

Most importantly, I am learning that I am worth it.

Suicide is an uncomfortable topic for a lot of people, but it’s something that should be a more visible area of conversation in our society. It is not a shameful thought, it is not a reflection of your strength, it is something that people struggle with. I am proud of my experience, but I wish I would have been more open about what I was going through in my life. I wish I had sought help sooner. If you are going through anything it is OK to reach out.

If you or somebody you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255