For most of us, there is a part of us we don't like.
That we'd like to change, that we try to hide. Usually,
it stems from not feeling good enough. Sometimes
it feels so bad to be poisonous. It can get so bad that
we feel like a diseased animal who has no hope of healing.
To put us out of pain, to make sure we don't hurt others anymore, we get the urge to kill ourselves. It's like our last act of accountability. Our final ace to play.
Fortunately, my suicide was an out-of-body experience. After an argument with my husband, I grabbed my keys and hurried towards my car. Glancing out the kitchen window as a last look at my daughters, the next instant, I was hurling over
a cliff in my white Mazda, and realized anything was better, even divorce. Frantically, I clamored to release the seat belt so that I could jump free of the car. Living was paramount.
Then, I was back in my kitchen. Shaking but sobered, I continued out to the car, not knowing where I was going, but knowing it wasn't over any cliffs. Within six months, we divorced.
What's your story? That dividing line you crossed only to find out it wasn't the solution,
and with all your will you came back to stay
in the game of life?