I don’t remember when it started. I just remember the internal fights and mood swings. Throughout my younger years I never thought I would actually grow up. I know. Every kid on the planet thinks that same thing. However, I always thought that I would not survive that far. I had this voice inside that said, “What would it be like when I’m gone?” I would imagine scenarios that always ended with my death. Only mine. Even worse, I would hope for it.
For me the idea of death has always been one of ultimate relief. I’ve even told family, “Don’t be sad if I ever go. I’ll be at peace.” I think they always thought I was talking about religion. No, I wasn’t. I was talking about being free from the burden, which I feel is life.
As I grew up, I realized I had to figure out a plan. I had to live. It wasn’t a choice, it was a requirement given by birth. I had to take care of myself. For a while I tried, but I was met with failure. Again, and again. Often the failure was a consequence of my own decisions. That just compounded, and made that weight on my shoulders worse.
So, this is my story. I’ll share little bits because I know that I FINALLY WANT to live and make better choices. I, also, want others to learn from me. Just because I made these choices or did these actions. Doesn’t mean that you have to. It just gives you the opportunity to see how it turned out for me.