reflections from the psych ward

why i'm staying alive

there are big reasons to stay alive: the people who would grieve.

in my distress, that was the only reason i could see. then there are other reasons that i now remember in a state of clarity.

like, if i killed myself, i would never again feel my dog jumping up at me, licking my face. or have “what, you too? i thought i was the only one!” moments with other people. i would remain untouched by romance, never to experience this love that people have been writing novels and songs and poems about for centuries. i would never again feel the satisfaction of learning to play a new song on the guitar, nor feel the pleasant thrum of the strings beneath my calloused fingertips. i would never see the sunset from rooster ridge, one of the many trails i have not yet hiked. i would never go to see another musical, and be filled with passion for theatre afterwards. i would never fulfil my dream of acting on stage.

and then the potential i carry; the potential to help others, to possibly change a life or two for the better. i want to become a secondary school teacher — these people have been my inspiration for always. perhaps i’ll make a student feel seen and heard. perhaps i’ll inspire one of them to follow their own dream. and you never know, maybe being my authentic self will make a stranger on the street feel less alone. and that is worth living for.

i asked my therapist, once, “have you never wanted to die?” “never,” he said. “i’m too curious.” well, i’m curious too and am determined to stay this way, to not lose it, or my hope. so i think of all the people i have yet to meet who i will love and who will love me back. there are kindred spirits who will walk into my life and stay. they will leave their books on my table and hang their pictures on my walls and life will be better with them in it. i am curious about them; i want to meet them. and the glorious thing is, i will.

and then all the people i have yet to become. i used to never be able to imagine myself in the future. at fifteen, i thought i would not make it it sixteen. but i did, and beyond. and now i can see, somewhat, myself at twenty-one, studying english and history at university; at thirty-five, perhaps speaking my vows as my other half slides a ring onto my finger; at fifty-two, an experienced teacher and advocate; at sixty, living my own frog and toad life and grumping to make my friends laugh. i want to be an old person who still has the heart of a child — who continues to see and wonder at the beauty of this world. and i never thought i would say these words: i want to be old. since i was fifteen i was so certain i would die young, by my own hand.

i am currently in the psych ward and cannot wait to soon be discharged, to go on living my little life. i must remember these reasons to stay alive when the darkness creeps in and monsters devour. and i am determined i will.

i will be better.