Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts/Attempts
From upstairs, I hear the familiar sound of a door creaking open, followed by soft footsteps and a hesitant voice drifting down to me. “Mom?”
For a moment, I consider ignoring it. He should be asleep by now, and to be honest, I should be too—it’s late. But the allure of having the couch all to myself has kept me awake. “Mom?” he calls again, this time a bit louder.
I can picture him leaning over the banister, and a mix of emotions swirls inside me—frustration that he’s still awake, anxiety about waking his sisters, and a gnawing worry that feels irrational but weighs heavy at this hour: What if he’s not okay?
Unwrapping my fingers from my tea mug, I try to keep my voice steady. “What?”
As soon as the word escapes my lips, I can hear his footsteps retreating. I imagine him easing away from the banister, almost closing the door behind him. “Nothing, just checking if you were there,” he calls back.
“I’m here,” I respond, more for my own reassurance than his, as he has already disappeared.
I’m here. It’s a phrase I often remind myself of—a simple mantra, a tiny prayer. It’s a mixture of gratitude and wonder, a sentiment I first penned to the universe when I was eighteen after attempting to end my own life.
Yes, that’s a chapter of my story I’ve yet to share—the part that lingers in dark corners, especially when I reflect on my life today. How could I have jeopardized this? What kind of arrogance led me to believe I could outsmart the wisdom of the universe, dismissing the gifts yet to come, like that boy upstairs and countless everyday miracles, such as the peace I found on the couch tonight?
But even that view isn’t the full truth anymore. It’s the perspective of a woman in her late thirties, a mother of four, who eventually sought help, put in the work, and carved out a semblance of peace in her family, friendships, yoga practice, marriage, and writing. It’s a truth shaped by distance from that dark moment, allowing me to see it for what it truly was: a collision of worry and despair that should never have crossed into the daylight.
Back then, I thought my pain was unique, alien even. I believed no one could understand my feelings, but now I recognize those as lies spun by the darkness. I fought to escape that pain, using every means possible—food, exercise, distractions, and eventually, my very life.
However, time allows clarity, revealing a profound truth: joy and pain coexist. They are intertwined, like the labor before birth, the night preceding dawn. You can’t invite one without the other. I learned this lesson the hard way, wrapping myself in a protective bubble, skirting life until it nearly cost me everything.
The essence of life is that it changes quickly. That beautiful boy upstairs was just a dream when I stood in a cluttered room filled with beer bottles years ago, telling my partner, Jake, I was ready to start a family. Now he’s 12, becoming independent, and I cherish those moments when I lean into my children at bedtime, brushing their hair from their foreheads and whispering “I’m here” as if each utterance is a thank you.
I am grateful for what I’ve experienced, for the grace that came after failure, and for the way my capacity for joy has expanded over time, making room even for the pain. Yes, even that. Life is beautiful, and the pain is simply the cost of admission.
I would gladly pay that price multiple times for the joy of a breathtaking sunrise, a mug of tea warming my hands, a run that clears my mind, a heartfelt hug from a friend, or a stranger’s smile across a crowded room. It’s in these moments when life calls out to me, and I can respond with the most precious prayer of all: I’m here.
For those interested in related topics, check out this article for more insights. For authoritative information about home insemination, you can visit Make a Mom. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent resources on pregnancy and related topics.
Summary:
This piece reflects on the author’s journey through depression and the realization that joy and pain are intrinsically linked. The narrative emphasizes self-acceptance and gratitude for life’s experiences, including both struggles and triumphs. It illustrates the importance of seeking help and finding peace amidst chaos while celebrating the simple joys of daily life.