Give Yourself a Chance

p-1Life lessons are rarely easy.
If they were easy, they would never have become lessons. Why is that? Why must we be tested so severely in order to grow as humans?
I am a student of the multiverse. Once upon a time I called myself “atheist.” The problem I found with that way of thinking was that it didn’t allow for the possibility of future information. While I personally don’t think there’s an invisible man living somewhere in the sky dictating our every move, I must — as a rational and logical being — maintain that there are possibilities we have yet to discover. So for want of a better word, I consider myself spiritual. Of the spirit.
Theists may tell us that lessons are hard, but “God would never give us anything we couldn’t handle.” Or, “God works in mysterious ways.” Or, “It’s God’s plan.”
Spiritualists of a certain kind may call it “karma,” that what goes around, comes around.
What about this:
We know intrinsically what we need, and we set into motion every lesson we’ll ever need or ever learn without ever being aware of our involvement. We do this because, as our spirit evolves — just like every other energetic being in the multiverse — we bring forth the tools we need to grow.
My family is riddled with cases of mental illness. I used to worry about it, that genetically I was predisposed to it. A couple weeks ago, I had a breakdown. The docs wouldn’t call it a psychotic break, necessarily, but more of a bipolar break. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I already work hard at curing PTSD within myself, but this event came from my blind side, and caught me totally unawares. It was triggered by an act of petty theft that I committed in a moment of desperation and weakness. On Friday, I ran out of food. In my cupboard was a container of dried oats. All I needed was milk and I could have survived on just that until benefits kicked in. I tried all my resources, but was turned down ever time. As I was trudging home, trying to think of how we would eat, an idea came to me, and I acted on it.
I stole a half gallon of milk.
From that act, an arrest warrant was issued for me with 2 felony counts and 1 misdemeanor. The thing was, I knew it was wrong and didn’t attempt to hide from it when the police called. I voluntarily turned myself in at the jail, where I spent many hours (most of them crying).
After release, I fell apart: emotionally, psychologically, and physically. I became suicidal and had the specific plan and resource to carry it out. As I sat on my couch with a gun in hand, finger caressing the trigger, I made a bargain with myself. Rather than kill myself, I would call a crisis line. If they could talk me out of suicide, I would agree to whatever they said.
Within an hour, I was voluntarily checking myself into a mental health care facility. But boy, I fought it. My brain argued against it seven ways to Sunday. After evaluation, they felt I continued to be a threat to myself and others, and asked me to commit to a stay in a hospital to get the care I needed. I fought that, too. Even though I was there “voluntarily,” I didn’t act in a way that let them trust me. I screamed and threw things. I punched a cop. I was put in restraints and isolated. After this six hour tantrum, I finally grew so exhausted of fighting it, I gave in.
I spent 8 days in a treatment facility. The first 24 hours were hardest because I was still fighting it in my head. Then something happened that likely saved my life. I had a moment of clarity in which I saw the Truth. MY Truth. I knew I needed help, and though I fought it, I was getting the best possible care. I was not a prisoner, I was a person who needed help. And I got it.
Every day I thank myself and the multiverse for allowing me the time and resources to get the help I so desperately needed. I needed time away from my life and the situations which caused my breakdown. Through that portal of time was I allowed to heal. I saw so much more clearly than ever before.
It’s been 6 days since I returned home, and the feeling of being blessed has not left me, not even once.
Once upon a time, I supported those who wished to kill themselves, considering it “free will.” I thought that if they wanted out so badly, they should be allowed to do it.
I no longer feel that way. Not because of the bullshit stories we tell ourselves about how suicide is “selfish,” or that it’s “cowardice,” or that it transfers all that inner pain onto those who care for us. Those are the things we tell others whom we want to “guilt” into staying alive. Let me tell you that we see right through those clumsy and ineffective attempts.
What we don’t tell those who are suicidal is that they aren’t thinking with their true mind. It’s an illness, and it’s called that for a reason. When we are ill, we are not doing our best. Instead, the illness is doing everything it can to control us. And since our minds cannot see it objectively, we fall prey to its false thoughts and desires.
It’s all right to be ill. Even mentally ill. That doesn’t, however, mean we must succumb to it. When we become sick with the flu, do we simply decide we’d rather be dead than have to feel that way any longer?
No.
We take medications. We rest. We step away from our hectic schedules for as long as it takes to feel better. We cannot care for others until we have cared for ourselves.
I’m here to tell you that when you feel like living is no longer worth it, GET A SECOND OPINION. Family and friends are not necessarily the best advisors in times like this. Like you, they’re too subjective to see it clearly. But there are hundreds of free resources you can use. You can do it anonymously, or tell them everything. Strike a bargain with yourself. When you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, think: I will call someone first and will delay this other action. Listen to them, to what they have to tell you. I guarantee it will be the best, most beautiful thing you can do for yourself.
Here in Colorado, there are several crisis lines. (844) 493-8255 is the Colorado Crisis Service. They will take your call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Program it into your phone so you remove the step of having to look it up.
The National Crisis Line is: 1-800-273-8255
If those don’t appeal to you, then please call me. I’ll listen without judgment. Here is my direct number:
719-207-1504
Promise yourself you will look at ALL your options before you act.
It gets better. But YOU have to give it a chance.

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