Today marks 24 weeks since I tried to kill myself.
There are a lot of things that no one tells you about recovering from a suicide attempt. No one tells you that there are several stages of recovery and they’re not linear stages. No one really prepares you for how long and tedious recovery can be; or that choosing to stay alive doesn’t keep the suicidal thoughts away. No one tells you how deeply it will affect you when you learn of someone killing themselves, whether you knew them personally or not.
My perspective on life has certainly changed. The things I have to count as accomplishments are different than they used to be. Like one day a shower might be an accomplishment, other days sitting up and not going back to bed are an accomplishment. I’ve had a couple of jobs, none of which I’ve been able to keep. I’ve always hoped for bigger things in my life than this.
I’m still alive, though. I’m still trying. I’m still fighting. I may not be doing everything right, but I am learning how to care for myself, something I didn’t know how to do six months ago. So I guess I’ll give it another day.