My Reasons for Living

Some time ago, I contemplated suicide for two weeks straight. I imagined slitting my wrists, slicing my throat open, stabbing myself right in the heart, hanging myself in my closet, electrocuting myself in the bathtub, throwing myself in front of a car - I even Googled a bunch of other ways I could kill myself.

I was still in college, alone in a sea of strangers. All of them seemed to be partying on the ship while I was barely managing to hang onto the life boat. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to hang on anymore.

I thought that I was doomed. I had depression. I had social anxiety. I didn’t have any work experience. I barely had any friends. How could I even dream of having a future in a world where being social was a requirement?

So I pondered all of the ways I could just end it all. After all of the weeks of isolation and numbness, I welcomed the rush that came with contemplating suicide. At the most, I tied a scarf around my neck in order to get a sense of what it felt like to choke.

I didn’t do anything more than that, but I did ponder over what would happen if I followed through on killing myself. I thought of how my parents would have to pay for my funeral. I thought of how they would have to bury me. I thought of how devastated they would be. They would blame themselves. They would ask themselves what they did wrong, what they could’ve done to prevent this. They would think, ‘I failed her’. By ending my life, I would ruin theirs. I didn’t want to do that to them. I didn’t want to do that to my best friend or my little brother, either. Since I didn’t have much of a will to live for myself, they became my reasons for living. They were the reasons why I continued to hold on. They were the ones who were there to support me, to love me, to believe in me when I didn’t have the slightest bit of belief in myself.

It wasn’t until recently that I was able to start liking and believing in myself. I managed to break through all of the selfhatred, isolation, and hopelessness I’ve felt for the majority of my life, thanks to all of the love, care, and help that I’ve received from my family (best friend, included - she’s like a sister to me) as well as my therapist. It took a long time to get to where I am now, and I couldn’t have possibly made it here without them. Sure, I still have my fair share of problems and obstacles to overcome, but I want to live. There are still so many more memories I want to make with them. There are still so many things I want to do. I don’t want to give up on any of that. It’s just the beginning of the rest of my life and I want to do what I can to grow. At my own pace. One step at a time.