Thursday night I contemplated the best and most efficient way to kill myself. I mentally wrote out my suicide note- everything I would say to the people I love and to the people I hate. I had actually planned on writing a note to each person in my life that I held closest, or the farthest, and then a general suicide note. I knew how I was going to do it, I just had not decided on when I was going to do it. I knew that I wanted to kill myself more than anything else.

That night, I broke. I lost all of the hope I had left in me. I gave up on everything that I had dreamed for and everything I had wanted out of life.

When Friday rolled around, I had come out of that deep suicidal state just enough to recognize there was a problem. That I should get help before it was too late. I, somehow, had held onto enough hope to reach out and get that help that I so desperately needed.

So, I got that help, and was admitted into my local hospitals Psychiatric ward. They confirmed my diagnosis of Bipolar 2, and increased my medication. They told me to Relax and rest, and give myself time. So I did.

Today I was released. And I am so thankful that I reached out for help. I realize now that there is hope for me. That I can get better. That the years of mental, emotional and physical abuse does not define me.

I realized that the abuse is not who I am. It is what was done to me.

I am now on the road to recovery. I am on the road to self love.

I am on the road to pulling me out of the wreckage of my heart.

 

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