My days felt like shadows, and nights like endless battles with my own mind. I couldn’t remember what happiness felt like. I was constantly overwhelmed by guilt and shame. I didn’t want to die—but I desperately wanted the pain to stop. I came close—too close.

 

Right before it happened, I decided to write a message to my therapist. I didn’t expect a reply right away, but they called. They didn’t let me go. They reminded me that healing is messy, that dark days don’t mean a dark life. I’m still here today because I asked for help—even when I didn’t believe I deserved it.