Content warning: Suicide.

I'll preface this article by saying that I am so thankful for everyone who was there for me in the awful moments in my life, and I am especially grateful for the small decision that was made to withdraw myself from college until I could make sure that I was OK. That decision, along with the split-second decision to continue living, is one of the reasons why I am still alive today. (I'm also currently back in school and will hopefully graduate with my BA in English this May.)

In light of Tuesday, September 10 being recognized as World Suicide Prevention Day, I'd like to share my own experiences with suicide attempts. Yes, I said attempts as in plural.

I've survived three separate suicide attempts before my twenty-second birthday.

Honestly, the first two attempts didn't affect me in quite the same way that my third one did. Maybe it was because of the fact that I was more determined to live the kind of life I wanted to live this time around, or maybe it was because of the fact that I was tired of feeling like the pain that I was going through wouldn't ever end. I'm not sure, but either way, the morning after my third suicide attempt was hands-down one of the hardest mornings I've ever had to get through.

Some of the details are super fuzzy, but I distinctly remember waking up after my third attempt and not wanting to get out of bed. I stayed in bed for most of that day and I barely spoke to anyone. One thing that I remember for sure is the moment when I finally decided to get out of bed and eat something. This might seem really insignificant and even silly, but I remember choosing to eat that day. Every single choice that I made that day felt so hard and even simple things like eating, showering, or even having a conversation with anyone were difficult choices.

The choice that was almost carried through from the previous night stuck around like an elephant in the room. And since I was back at my parent's house while all of this was going on, my parents tried their best to "parent" the situation. I didn't want to talk to anyone. At all. At that moment, words just couldn't express the weight of everything that I was feeling, and I legitimately couldn't make the words come out of my mouth if I had tried.

The morning after my third suicide attempt was by far one of the worst moments of my life. When I woke up that morning, I knew that I would have a lifetime of choices ahead of me, and that thought terrified me. I made a promise to myself that if I was going to continue to live, I would do so on my terms.

What exactly were my terms? Well, at the time, I was in a toxic spiral that eventually ended up with me going back to a toxic/abusive relationship. I knew that I had to face the fact that this man wasn't the right man for me. At the time though, I didn't want to believe it, and it wasn't until months after this suicide attempt that I finally learned this lesson. Another one of my terms involved making a "life goals" bucket list. Maybe that sounds really ironic, given the fact that the day before this I had made the decision to end my life, but it made sense to me when I was thinking about what I really wanted.

The way that I saw it, if I was going to keep living, I was going to do great and ambitious things.

I felt that if I was truly going to live, I would have to step outside of what I knew everyone else my age was doing, and really strive and reach for what I wanted out of life. (I actually published the first edition of my first book in the months that followed this day.) All of that didn't come together in that singular day, but I ultimately knew that I would do whatever I had to do to make sure that I would never get to a point in my life that was as low as the day before.

Honestly, sometimes the quiet moments in life are the ones that come to define who we truly are. The day/night of my third suicide attempt wasn't what defined me — the morning after that attempt was. In the hard and daunting decisions that I made throughout that day, I kept making small choices that allowed my body to continue living. I ate, I showered, and I talked to someone. In those small moments, I chose to keep myself alive and to keep my heart beating. At the time, that didn't seem like much. But, looking back on that previous day and the day that followed, I can see that those small moments were the ones that truly mattered. I am so incredibly proud of myself for the strength and courage that I showed that day. I am so proud of myself for choosing to live.

If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline — 1-800-273-8255