I Remember...

...the blue lines across my wrists left behind by the pen I used to simulate what I wished were blood-red streaks. The pain of hopelessness screamed at me as I pulled the knife down, just a few inches from my arteries, to cut the bread that a customer had ordered just moments before.

I was less than a month into my graduate studies in General Psychology and I was already struggling to catch up. I had moved to Virginia six months before that, after leaving a job that had left me completely burned out and unreasonably ashamed of myself. Darkness showed his jagged teeth as he smiled victoriously, delighted that I was speeding ever closer to the bottom.

To me, life had reached a place of pure meaninglessness and every little thing drove me to the point of craving the relief of death.

I returned home from a long, agonizing day of work, grabbed my bag, and started walking towards a nearby coffee joint. With each step, I heard the echoing words in my mind, “I just want to die.” Years of ministry and psychology training told me that this was problem. A REAL problem.

“Are you safe?” my therapist begged of me after answering my impulsive call. “Can you tell me right now that you are going to be OK?”

Time snagged on a nearby tree, causing the moments that followed to feel like an hour. I knew the answer to that question… “Which hospital should I go to?” I responded, as I spun on my heels to race back to my jeep, about to commit to what would become one of the most pivotal weeks of my life.

I called my friend Kale as anxiety and fear tried to rip my foot from the gas pedal that was propelling me to get help, and he helped make sure that I made it to that time of transformation.

Six Days...

...of intensive care, group therapies, med changes, and emotional processing followed and it felt overwhelming.

Though the therapy sessions wee, without a doubt, helpful to my healing and awakened passions in me that had long been dead, it was the community of people that really made that time something special. The community of fellow patient who locked arms with me to get through the week, and the community of people outside the hospital who came rushing to my aid.

I was surprised by how many calls I received, and I was forced to face the truth that regardless of what I thought of myself... I was loved and valued.

Then there was the stories. The beautiful stories of those who were there struggling with me. Men and women who chose to cling to life despite the hardships that had befallen them.

The seemed long at the time... but in the end, those six days were well worth it to get to experience the year that I've had since.

Four Years...

...have passed since I walked through those sliding doors to security and help. I recovered my faltering grades (and since graduated!), kicked a looming drinking habit, found a love for photography and graphic design, acquired a stable job, bought a car, and I now live in a loving community and have my own place. Ya know, "stable adult things!"

When I reflect on this past few years of wondrous experiences, meaningful relationships, and exquisite manifestations of love... I can’t help but think “man... I could have missed all this…”

Had I not made that hard decision to be vulnerable, to get help, I would have never seen my niece smile, seen pictures of my godson’s fifth birthday, spend a week with one of my students exploring Kansas City, reengage with old friends, flown to Texas, danced at multiple weddings, created bizarre pictures with Photoshop, or been advocate for those who suffer from the same mental illness as I do.

I discovered that I existed, and that that was a beautiful reality—and, furthermore, it was up to me to form and shape that existence into whatever I wished it to be... to unfold and develop my essence.

"Life...

...is not a problem to be solved,” as Kierkegaard once said, “but a reality to be experienced.” I sat on the stoop of despair and decay; the door to death unlocked and waiting to be opened. But there was another way. There was a way to live life and though it has been anything but easy, it has most definitely been worth it.

I realized that I didn’t want to lose. I didn’t want to lose to the darkness and succumb to its will. But neither did I want to live a life subjugated to depression and mental illness. Somewhere, somehow I found the desire to experience life; to be….me.

So to you, reader, I offer this challenge. It is easy to quit. I understand why you might want to, but let implore you that every day is a gift. And here, on this Earth, is a chance for you to bloom with life and to be ever more a free human.

Today I celebrate my continuation of life, and I have from henceforth set aside February 26th as a sort of second birthday—as a reminder that there is freedom and a world of adventure at our fingertips, if we are just brave enough to just reach out and take hold of it.

Cheers.