{This post was written 9/10/24}

Use discretion when reading further; while ultimately I point to hope and seek to glorify God, I write openly about my thoughts and experiences.

If you are struggling and unsure what to do about it, please do not hesitate to dial 988 (in the States).

I faithfully attend to church wherein I could rattle off a dozen people I know well enough to have their phone number.

I have about the same number of people at the co-op I go to.

I have the phone number of someone who counseled me twice, in 2016 and 2020.

I’m part of a mentorship group for crying out loud…. My support system should be huge.

And that’s just people that mostly live close enough to get a coffee with.

I also have the phone number of a friend I’ve known since I was 17 years old. She lives in Canada now. And I have a few other phone numbers of people I have made friends with over the years thanks to the Internet, scattered across the globe at this point.

For every single person I could text or call, I have more reasons not to text or call them.

Everyone is dealing with this beginning of the school year comparison trap….

My counselor doesn’t even go to my church anymore…

I don’t really know them well enough to just send a text out of the blue like that…

I don’t want to be a bother…

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Scrolling social media to numb the pain I’m having in my brain for zero justifiable reason, I saw that today is Worldwide Suicide Prevention day.

On a scale of one to ten, one being the thought of sinning in this way repulses me and ten being I have a plan, I have fluctuated over the past week between five and eight.

I finally told my husband Saturday night that I had been struggling. That day I actually went to bed in the middle of the day because I couldn’t stand being in my own skin. I knew then that this wasn’t a minor issue (somehow the “everyone would be better off without me” thoughts weren’t enough to tip me off).

And until I send this out into the semi-anonymous realm of the blogosphere, he is the only one I have told.

Why?

I have a ton of people who love me. I know they care. But that is why I can’t bring myself to tell them; I want to murder someone they care about. I can explain how my existence is a net loss and I can prove my total ineffectiveness, but I cannot argue that however minimal the loss may seem to me, or however much I believe that my death would allow for far greater things to occur, the initial response would be pain —more pain than I am currently dealing with, more pain than I am causing by my small, ugly existence.

So I stay silent, because by my calculations, however much of a disappointment and inconvenience I may be, I would not be less of one if I were to burden anyone with these thoughts of me wanting to die.

So why post this?

First, because right now I am only at a five on that scale which feels as far away from ten as I could possibly be.

Second, because I am not going to tell anyone that I am feeling this way, and this may be all anyone knows of it — and that’s as much of an inconvenience as I am willing to be.

Third, because I don’t think people realize how scary it is to talk to someone when you aren’t okay. Maybe it’s not like this for everyone, but I would rather crawl under a rock than be a nuisance.

Finally, I am posting because I need those who struggle to know in a concrete way that they are not alone.

I’m safe. I’m doing what I can, what I have been taught to do, and I know this too shall pass. One day (hopefully soon!) I will be able to fall asleep peacefully, wake up without a deep sense of dread, and be able to be inside my own skin without itching to crawl out of it.

In the meantime, I am living in the reality that His strength is made perfect in weakness, that I absolutely must remember that He has not left me defenseless, and that His glory is what matters… even if He is glorified in my failure. He is good and does good. He is gracious and compassionate, and this bed I have made in the depths isn’t out of His reach, nor is the darkness I find inescapable even dark to Him. He made me in my mother’s womb, and knew everything that would happen in my entire life before I even took my first breath. I may not feel like my existence is a net positive, but it’s not up to me to make that determination and even less my call what to do about it. This is my jar-of-clay body that isn’t even fully fired and am I telling the potter what to do with me?! God forgive me. I am arrogant beyond measure.

And the crazy thing is, He does forgive.