For the last week suicide has been on my mind and in my life. At work, I have to do a presentation. I’ve battled fleeting thoughts of not existing and so much more. What inspired this post the most - A friend from high school celebrated his birthday and in his post he reflected on this past year and listed the contrast between this birthday and the last. Suicide was in the mix and it got me to thinking of those days when I’ve had some deep dark thoughts that I was too afraid to share with others, even my closest friends. I appreciated his candor. I found myself appreciating that he was still here to see it through. It made me reflect on my relationship with one of my mentee’s who have become family. There was so many nights when I’ve had to talk them off the ledge. Had to convince them that they’re worthy. Had to convince them to stay, earth side, despite the fact that they saw no reason to. Today, I am so glad to be able to send them a text. I am so glad they survived. And fought. And lived. And is still living. I am so glad to say that I love you, in the present. It made me reflect on my own battle with death and ideation and I want to reach out to let folks know, I feel you, I see you and I hear you.

As a child, I remember crying myself to sleep every night because the thought of death scared me. I would cry, while praying to God to let me live. The thought of no longer being on earth made no sense to me and I couldn’t imagine life outside of this existence. This went on for months until I found out one of my siblings feared the same thing. And we cried together. Though the thought was still daunting to me, it felt so much better knowing my brother felt the same way. He helped me through it. I am so happy I had someone who knew what I was going through. Who was going through the same thing. Who helped me live through the confusion, the pain, and the strife. I remember crying myself to sleep every night. I remember how bad I wanted to live. I remember how I literally begged for my life as if the grim reaper was in my face. And with all those memories, I am so glad I was able to live past that part of my life.

In contrast, I remember being a first year grad student and getting an ear infection. This ear infection caused me to bleed out my ear, throw up when I swallowed my spit, lose weight, caused an inability to keep my balance, and barred me from society. This was during my Christmas break and I had a lot of time to myself. I had a lot of time to think and to feel my literal ear splitting headaches. I had a lot of time to think of how great it would be to exist no longer. I didn’t have a plan to take my life but I played with the thought of what life could be like, if I existed no more. I was in so much physical pain; I was in so much emotional pain that I thought… it would be great if I could no longer feel this. I prayed through this ordeal, called out to God, begged God for mercy and relief and it seemed to not work. I didn’t think of what it might be like for others. Frankly, I didn’t care. I just knew I wouldn’t have to deal. I endured for three weeks so I can’t imagine a lifetime. I don’t want to. And that was the first time.

The second time and the most enduring time was for the rest of grad school. I remember being so depressed, those thoughts came back to me. Nas’s line in his song whose world is this “I need a new N*gga for these dark clouds to follow, cuz while its over me it’s too dark to see tomorrow” resonated with me so much during this period of my life. It was like my mantra. No matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I cried (which wasn’t much), no matter what, I couldn’t lift myself out of this rut. I couldn’t shake these thoughts of death and what it would be like to no longer exist. One could ask what was my motivation: I had a beautiful niece that I looked forward to learning and growing with. I was looking forward to finally getting my degree and becoming a social worker. I had so much to look forward to yet I couldn’t shake it. I finally told my friends. I finally went to therapy after months of suffering. I finally cried. I finally acknowledged this shit.

I’ve reflected on those times in these post: http://www.aladalove.com/mythoughts/2017/4/4/behind-the-filter

I remember I was told that I am not praying hard enough. Many times people are made to feel guilty to stay here or be faced with the idea of Hell. What difference will this threat make if their reality is already a living hell? Without the fear of being cast into a fiery pit, I was able to be honest with myself, honest with my spirituality, and it was able to help me endure. I was able to cry out in frustration. I was able to pray more honestly. I was able to cry. I was able to forgive myself. My spiritual relationship has been strengthened through it all.

I never took meds for it but I support those that do. There’s nothing wrong with seeking extra help. There’s nothing wrong with exploring your options. There’s no shame in fighting. And I feel you, if you feel like giving up.

I never had a plan to take my life. But I understand those that do. I understand how deeply the hurt can go. Whether physically, emotionally, mentally. Pain is real and its symptoms are vast. It effects each of us differently. A lot of people say those who take their lives or selfish, or cowardly. If you have never been at this point in your life, congratulations.

For those who have, I see you, I hear you. You are valuable. You are worthy. This isn’t to guilt anyone into staying here. Or to guilt anyone into enduring the pain. This is to let you know that things can get better. This is to let you know that it’s good to be on the other side of all the pain. It feels good to see my dreams come to fruition. It feels good to feel loved and be loved. It feels good to be here. I am so happy I survived. I am happy for a chance. And I hope, for your sake if no one else’s, that you are able to find relief. Comfort. Life in the struggle.

Shout out to Ntozake Shange, author of “for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf”, for the inspiration for the title. May she rest in peace. Thank you for your contribution.