You Are Alive For A Reason

You Are Alive For A Reason

Just because you haven't found it yet, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

You are here for a reason. Plain and simple. That's why you're alive. That's why you must continue to live, and that's why you must fight for your life. Your reason may not be obvious to you; it may not be something you inherently know from the start. You may not discover your reason until much later in life. It may even become clear that you have several reasons for being alive. It's okay to make up your own reasons, too.

Your reason(s) may or may not be simple; they could be to serve a purpose, a person, and that person could be yourself. It's OK if that person is yourself. That's not to say that I'm encouraging you to be selfish, but rather self-serving. Putting your own happiness and interests first isn't vile or rude; it's human nature. If, perhaps, your happiness is reflective off of others' happiness, then being self-serving really isn't a crime at all.

If you find that your reason for being here is to serve some sort of purpose, know that it's okay to change that purpose. If, for example, your parents had you so they could have an extra hand on the farm, that doesn't mean you couldn't leave and become successful elsewhere. Though everyone has a purpose in life, you are never limited to that purpose, and therefore, you can always change your reasons for being alive, and your reasons for living.

We were all placed here on Earth to change something. We are destined to fulfill the reasons we are here even if they change. Everyone can change the world even if the world we change belongs to just one person. The population thrives on progression, and all of us are a team. We help one another to realize their passions, ambitions, and reasons for fighting. We are a machine that cannot work without all of the parts acting in unison.

If you ever feel lost or alone, know that you are not either of those things. Life is full of twists and turns that will shake you up. Know that when you fall down, it is one hundred percent OK to rest on the ground before you attempt to get back up.

It is so incredibly easy to become bogged down by the pressures and demons of everyday life. It is easy to think that there is nothing out there for you especially when you let the darkness consume you. No matter how many demons drag you down, know that there will be twice as many hands to pull you back up. If you don't see any hands, look elsewhere.

Don't give up because you are unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Do not give up because you cannot see success in your future. Stand tall, stand strong, and never stop asking for help. Your light is there. Your future is there, and you will find your success where you least expect to.

You were put on this earth for a reason. Just because you haven't found it yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Just because you feel as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders, does not mean that people will not help. All you have to do is ask.

Cover Image Credit: Unsplash

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It's Time To Murder The Act Of Suicide In Our Nation


My heart is numb. Over people, I barely even knew. Over the people that are no longer living in the same world as us. Over the people that decided our world is too much for them to handle anymore. Over the people who took their own lives.

America is hearing more and more about suicide every day. Unfortunately, we hear more about people taking their own lives as opposed to spreading ideas of prevention and awareness. Enough is enough. We need to do something to stop the rising rates of suicide in our country and help those who are fighting depression before it is too late.

When I found out my childhood friend chose to leave our world, my heart shattered. I barely spoke to her, yet I found my grief reaching unbearable heights. Her passing affected everyone she's ever spoken to or encountered in her life. I realized that when people die, many others express the love they have for that person and showcase the beauties they've developed inside and out before their final days.

I realize that this is all apart of the grieving process, but I question how often do we actually show this love before their final breaths? We need to do a better job of expressing love in our world. We need to do a better job of highlighting the beauties of each and every person, and of life itself. We need to do a better job of making sure we love everyone around us since we never know who might be suffering.

The happiest people you see in your life may cry every night behind closed doors.

I also believe that schools need to do a better job of educating us about suicide prevention and how to detect any behaviors that might lead to a person committing the irreversible act that no person would wish upon their greatest enemies.

According to American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States and the 2nd leading cause of death among teens. Did you know that for every one person that committed suicide, there are 25 other people that attempted to commit too? Do you know the signs a person shows when they're about to leave us forever?

These are all facts I learned after my childhood friend left our world. Frankly, I think that I should have been thoroughly educated in this way earlier in my life.

Most high schools require that we take one, single semester of health throughout our four years. In that health class, we touch on suicide for only a day or two. Is that really enough? Would it really hurt to educate students more on suicide prevention if it meant saving a life?

In school, we spend more time learning about trigonometric functions and mitosis than we do about preventing things that are so prominent in the lives of teens today. There is a problem with that.

We learn that suicide is irreversible and we always hear that the bad things are temporary. But, how much does everyone truly know about how the people fighting with extreme stress and depression feel?

The stigma around suicide makes the number of reports lower than they're supposed to be. But those numbers are already high enough. Nobody deserves to feel that their life is no longer worth living. We need to start making our world beautiful again to show them that they are so important.

We can't reverse the act of the ones that are no longer with us. But we can prevent others from choosing to go to another world.

Be the person to reach out to those who are struggling and be their lifesaver. Take the time to express your love and compassion to everyone the way the Lord once did. Please, I beg of you, do your part in ending suicide.

Cover Image Credit: Josh Felise

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My Journey Through Self-Harm

I wanted to share my battle with everyone so that I could be an encouragement to those around me.

Disclaimer: This article is not intended to make light of very serious issues and diseases, and in no way am I glorifying them. I just simply want to share my experiences.

Trigger Warning: Those suffering from any behavior of self-harm may be negatively affected by the content of this article.

I was in the fifth grade the first time I ever harmed myself on purpose. I don’t know how the trend started, but everyone in the three fifth grade classes that year had discovered an idiotic act that of course, you had to participate in to be cool. The trend included taking an eraser on the end of a pencil and rubbing it against a part of your skin, hard and fast, giving yourself a burn.

To this day, I have the little scar on the back of my left hand from the day I sat in P.E. with my pencil and decided I was going to show my peers that I could be cool too.

I had no idea that this mindless act would turn into a painful addiction not even three years later.

In the seventh grade, I started a new school – a private, Christian school. I met my best friend that year. I noticed that there was something very different about her and the relationship that we held together. We were inseparable, to an extreme extent. The first time we changed in front of each other, I noticed something very odd. My best friend had pale scars covering the tops of her thighs. I can honestly say that I was taken aback; I had never seen anything like it before. When I asked her about them, she explained to me the depths of her depression and anxiety disorders and how the scars helped her feel alive. I was confused, worried, and sad for my best friend.

Maybe I wanted to feel some of her pain, or maybe I was just plain curious. In the seventh grade, I took apart my first pencil sharpener to reveal the little blade inside. I ran it across my thigh to reveal flesh and blood. I had never made myself bleed before, but I wasn’t scared or anxious. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised at the sense of power and release of stress it gave me. This act continued on for years, and time only made it grow more detrimental.

My parents blame my habit on what happened to me as a child. I wouldn’t say I had a particularly devastating childhood though because I’m fully aware that others have it much worse. When I was around 8, one of my dad’s best friends began to molest me. I was scared, but he would continue to tell me that it was okay, he was doing these things because he loved me. And I believed him. My home is broken, and my father now lives nine hours from me. It was only within the past two years that I gained the courage to tell my parents about the years of abuse. Within these past two years, my sick obsession reached its peak.

One or two cuts from a silly sharpener blade weren’t good enough anymore. I began to use scissors and my dad’s military-grade knives. I would go to the store and buy the double-sided blades – the ones you see in movies all the time. I would lay in my bathtub and slice away at myself, hoping that some of the pain and stress would go flow down the drain. I began to binge drink, and my friends would have to peel me away from the bloody mess I’d left myself in.

In November of last year, I tried to kill myself for the first time. I drew myself a hot bath with a bottle of wine and my favorite book. I sunk into my ceramic tomb and began cutting my wrists in every which way. As I laid there, my phone began to ring. From nine hours away, my dad sensed something was wrong and saved my life.

I have gone to therapy, counseling, and am on my own path to recovery. Every day I see my scars and tear myself down, telling myself that I am hideous and should have died in that tub. But then I remember to pick myself back up and carry on.

You must look past the stressors of everyday life and find something to live for. Live for yourself, because you are worth every breath that you take.

Cover Image Credit: Google Images

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