I am strong, but I am weak.

We have all heard the speeches. The clich├ęs.

“This will only make you stronger.”

“You will grow so much from this experience.”

“Think of all the people you will be able to relate to from this experience.”

Any of that sound familiar? Both arms up over here.

At the age of eighteen I have experienced my fair share of hardships. They don’t seem to come with much of a break period and they come crashing all in one treacherous wave.

It is overwhelming and stressful. And yet something I have grown to deal with.

After loosing a parent so young I heard every single one in the book.

“He is in a better place.”

“Just think, all his pain is gone.”

“He is always with you in your heart.”

All true, and genuine attempts to make light of a dreadful situation. And yet, somehow, they all seem to make things worse.

Because, you see, I love that I am able to help people due to the fact that I can empathize when others may only be able to give their best sympathies..

There is power in being able to say to someone “I understand, I have been there.” “Me too.” Or even just, “That sucks.”

As apposed to the heartfelt, but rarely helpful. “Be grateful for what you have.”

It’s nice to know that I am making someone feel a little more comfortable in their dreadful time, knowing that they are not alone.

And yet at what cost?

My reminders to others that it is totally normal to sit and cry when it hits them that their parent isn’t there to see them off to their first day of high school is my reminder to myself that my dad isn’t here to see me off to my first day of college.

My encouragement to others that they can be self sufficient women in society without the man that is laying hands on them and pinning them to a bed every night is my reminder to myself that I left him when maybe he would have changed.

Please, know, I am fully aware of the premature growth I have experienced due to the events in my life.

But what if, just for one month.

One week.

One day.

I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to be mature. What if for one day I just want to be a normal eighteen year old girl.

Seems almost like a fathom of my imagination at this point.

Please know, I am not saying that I do not enjoy being able to help others. I thrive off of knowing that I was put on this earth to help others. But I can’t help but feel strongly that sometimes I just need someone to tell that it is normal to still him my dad everyday, even after eight year. Someone to tell that I am better off without the man that would hit me at my slightest mistake. Someone to lend me a shoulder and tell me that my tears are acceptable.

Maybe it’s time for the fighter to be fought for, the holder to be held and the lover to be loved. -Unknown

You see, sometimes we can have a heart of gold. A mind full of determination to help others, and being able to relate off of personal experience only opens the playing field that much more. But, sometimes, even the strongest of souls need someone to lean in and say “me too”.

Advertisements

What if we changed the way we viewed suicide?

***Trigger warning***

I have often heard people refer to those who have died by suicide as selfish.

Why is that?

It truely doesn’t make sense to me.

“Don’t beat yourself over their choice. It was selfish of them.”

“Don’t get too down about it they knew that they were hurting people when they did it.”

Or the worst thing of all, to say to somebody who has just attempted.

“Why would you try to take your own life. What were you trying to do just leave me here?”

Seems awful. I know. But believe it or not these are all things that people have said to me or to those I care for greatly.

As somebody that had lost friends by suicide and somebody that has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past I can tell you with 100% confidence that none of those words are at all helpful. And to be quite frank I struggle to see why anyone would even think that those words would be helpful in the first place.

While I struggle greatly I also reach my hand out to extend grace to those who say those words. As they may not know the power of what they are saying. Or maybe they are struggling with their own loss and that is just how they are coping.

Understandable.

But what if we changed the way that people viewed suicide.

You see people that take their lives don’t die from suicide. They die by suicide.

They die from depression. Anxiety. Trauma. Addiction.

Ok what’s the difference?

To say somebody died from suicide would be to say that suicide is what killed them.

Now while to some extent this is true that is not what killed them. What killed them was the months or years of torture. Whether that be from mental illness or bullying at school. Suicide is the way the handle it. And unfortunately it is a coping mechanism that once complete can’t be taken back.

And I think that is what people struggle to realize.

Now yes, I realize this is a pretty risky thing to post as I know it is something that people have very strong feelings toward, but I’m not going to hold back.

I am not trying to say that people can not have their own feelings about different topics but somebody has to speak up for those that can’t speak up for themselves.

While I pray nobody ever has to experience grieving the loss of somebody that died by suicide I also pray that if one should come across this post and then one day relate to it that they would have a new understanding of the pain filled process that those that battle everyday feel.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or plans please call the number above. There is help. You are worth it.