The Never Loved Blog
Intro
My life started the day I tried to kill myself.
About a year ago, I was sitting at the foot of my twin bed in my one-bedroom apartment. From what I can remember, it was a beautiful sunny day. But instead of taking advantage of the nice weather, I was inside with a plastic bag in one hand and my cell phone in the other. I was waiting for a text from a boy. A boy who had started to pull away, who said he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Tears were streaming down my face, my breathing was shallow, and my chest was constricted in tight knots. In that moment, I truly felt that I had nothing to live for. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to keep me anchored to the ground. Every single miserable, self-destructive thought I had ever had came rushing to the forefront of my mind, pulsing and coagulating like blood from a deep wound. The pain was unimaginable. And this plastic Walmart bag, of all things, was like a cure being served to me on a silver platter. I wanted to take it, more than anything. It would have been so easy.
But something in the back of my mind kept me from putting it over my head and being done with it. A quiet voice, no louder than a whisper, was telling me to hold on, if only for a little longer. I recognized it as the same voice that had kept me from taking my own life countless times from the tender age of 11 through my adult years. I wanted to die—no—I wanted the pain to end, but I didn’t want to subject my loved ones to the pain of finding my corpse on my bedroom floor. I didn’t want to leave my cat without her mom. But I was still gripped by the temptation of permanent rest.
Then my notifications lit up. He had texted me back. He was coming over later that day. (Little did I know that would be the last time I’d ever see him).
Shame, embarrassment (and pure relief) flooded my system. I was going to be okay. He hadn’t abandoned me. But it was at that moment I realized something was seriously, deeply wrong with me. I guess that sounds a bit harsh, but I had a moment of clarity so strong it felt like I got smacked in the face. I was about to suffocate myself over a man I had only known for three weeks.
How did it get to this? Where had everything gone wrong?
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I started this blog as a way to document my journey and guide others who are walking the path of healing. I want to show that healing can happen no matter your history, your trauma, or how hopeless you feel. I’ve been at rock bottom more times than I can count, and there were moments I didn’t think I’d live through my early 20s. Yet here I am. The transformation I’ve experienced within the last year alone has been nothing short of a miracle. I never thought I would be where I am today. But that being said, I still have setbacks, I still feel intense emotions, and I am nowhere near the end of my journey (spoiler: no one is). This blog is meant to show that messy reality, and to help you feel less alone no matter where you’re at.
- A
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