It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to write.
Truthfully, I went through hell recently. I ended up coming off one of my most vital medications - lamotrigine - and the crash that followed was terrifying. My body went into full withdrawal. The manic episodes tore through my daily routine, leaving me feeling bleak, empty, and stripped down to a shell of who I am.
When your brain turns on you like that, trying to explain it to people who haven't experienced it feels impossible. How do you explain what it’s like when you don’t necessarily want to take your own life, but the thought of death starts to feel like a welcomed friend?
I’ve had a complicated, intimate relationship with death for a long time. Anyone who has worked in animal welfare knows that weight. You never forget what it feels like to physically restrain a 70-pound dog to be euthanized. You hold their head tight against your own to protect everyone in the room from a terrified animal that wants to lash out. And then the needle hits the vein. You feel the exact second their spirit slips out, feeling their last breath and the final beat of their heart while you hug them and sob on the floor because they deserved so much better.
I’ve held too many innocent souls through that transition to fear the concept of death. I don’t fear dying.
What I do fear is missing out on the life I’ve fought so damn hard to build.
I know what it’s like to crave the taste of the end just to make the pain stop. The suffering in those moments feels suffocating and insufferable. But the truth is, you don’t have to white-knuckle that darkness by yourself.
There is real, professional help out there. Finding the right provider and getting on proper medication management can be the exact anchor you need to steady those thoughts when the storm takes over. It’s not about being weak or "broken"—it’s about giving your mind the medical support it needs to stay alive.
If you’re sitting in the dark right now, feeling like an empty shell and wondering how much longer you can carry the weight: hear me.
You are seen. You are heard. You are valued. And you are not alone.
If you’re in a dark place and need someone to lean on right now, please reach out. You can call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, day or night. It’s free, confidential, and there are people ready to help you hold the line.
