In Honor of World Suicide Prevention Week: September 8-14

With the upcoming World Suicide Prevention Day on September 10 I stand in conflict with myself, because a matter of such importance, and still so little attention, it is easy for it to vanish between the countless of days we are celebrating, for everything under the sun.

Not only are the issues of suicide, depression, and mental illness important to me because of the daily wave of emotions, from happiness in one moment, to a rope and a note the next that I’m experiencing. These things also matters to me because of the labels out there that’s still preventing people from coming to the floor with bravery and confess their battle and confusion about these haunting demons.

Also, this is for the thousands of families having to sit through every emotion; every doctor’s appointment; every morning’s “don’t forget your medicine” conversation, and every monthly bill from the therapist. Every time he or she leaves the house and don’t pick up their phone after three miscalls you begin to imagine the worst might have happened. This is for the families and friends that keep on praying that this person would see the value and sacredness of their lives; the prayers that always ends with, “and God, please let them see themselves the way You see them”. It is not that easy, believe me. Because it’s one thing to see beauty in others, and it’s another thing to notice it in your own self, but it’s an entirely different thing to see and accept your beauty through the eyes of others.

My heart breaks every time I hear of someone who has committed suicide. For them. For their families. Their memories, and for the missed opportunities. In the midst of such tragedy, the one question everyone asks is always ‘why’ (why did they do that). I know it’s an attempt to understand but it can easily become an overrated excuse for “why didn't I see it coming”. The old-aged slogan of “prevention is better than cure” deserves every bit of exposure it can get, on these issues as well. That is what the week in September will be for: to remind ourselves that pain is inevitable; depression is treatable, and suicide IS preventable. Although I've been there myself, more than a couple times, there should be NO reason why any human being should ever feel so lost and alone that the only absolute to them is death by suicide.

I am fortunate enough to have the gift of friendship that gives me the room to not be okay sometimes, and I have a strong appetite for life despite the clashing of my fears and dreams every so often. But there are those who do not have that. Who want it. Who crave for it, and ache for it through every late night Facebook status or tweet, but their aching always returns hollow in a virtually overcrowded space. So, September 8-14 is for them.

May we come to see the aching around us.

May we come to support them, and love them, and offer healing to them whether it be through treatment, prayer, hugs, or walks on the beach.

But most of all, may we prevent them from staying in those dark places they once called home.

In Honour of World Suicide Prevention Week.

To be Better

"...I try to remind myself when I feel great and infinite, that there will be another terrible week coming someday, so I should store up as many great details as I can, to hold on to during those terrible moments..."

It seems that no matter how many great details I store up of every single moment that made me feel like it was the only thing to live for at that time, the dark places I use to call 'home' has a way of making me forget all of that in a second.

For the past three weeks I've gambled with a thousand reasons why the word has no longer a need for me. That it would be so much better to be on the opposite side of life watching as people pass by my open casket whispering things like "too soon. he died too soon". And each time those thoughts surface I try to forcefully pick myself up and search my memories for the moments when my heart smiled at the simplicity of beauty. I struggled to find any.

I thought about dying so much, and in so much detail that I wrote a letter to the people who love me. You can read it here. I'm not ashamed in the least for writing this and that, because it was the shame that pushed me there. The shame of what people would think of me when i confess that I want to die. its the shame that kept me from reaching out to the many close people I have in my life. its the shame that tells me right now I'm making the biggest mistake of my life writing this. but I don't care. I want to be better. i want to be free. i want people to know that beneath every person's smile and sigh there might be a bottomless pit of darkness, if only we were to notice it.

Some will read this and see a pitying cry for attention; some will read this and judge; some will feel sad for me, but I know there are those who will read this and see the bravery with which each line was written. Through whichever lens you may look at this, my only desire is to become better. To become the fun, laughing, loving-life person you once knew. I would give anything to be him again, but I can't sit and just wish him back; I need to reach out to you friend, family, stranger. And i'm doing so in the only way i can express and articulate properly, though writing.

Believe me, I have no intention to kill myself anymore, but i know also that I'm not healthy, and if I don't reach out for help I might visit the dark room more and more, and might not return from it.

I need help. I need a rescue, not in a spiritual way, but in a way that feels and is human. Somehow I feel I should have done this sooner but asking for help has no expiry date.

Pray for me. Talk to me.

I just want to be better.

My Last Letter, it was supposed to be.

I’m writing this in advance, because I know it’s only a matter of time before it’s the end. Believe me when I say I’m no coward. I’m really not. I’m just SO tired of living; tired of thinking, hoping, believing that things might take a turn for the better. Let’s not be fooled. It only gets better when it’s been good for some time already, which in my case, have been never.

Real life, I hate to leave you behind, but my guess is that it’s only gonna be a matter of years, maybe months and I’ll be forgotten, because there’s just too many of us. We are a lot, but our voices are too soft.

My only real regret for leaving is the people I’m leaving behind- the ones who cared, each in their own way. My heart ache for the pain I’m leaving you with. Please don’t walk around with guilt and shit. Cry, for a few days at least, and then live glorious lives. The lives you’ve always wanted to live. Take it from me; I choked myself because I could never live the life I wanted. You can call it weakness, cowardice, selfishness, but I could not dare to live another day with all these secrets eating away at me in any way.

I have lived with pain. I have lived with pleasure. True joy has befriended me at times, but I haven’t been truly happy for a number of years now. My smiles were genuine and my love for others was real. I could not have faked that. For I love people too much. I have always looked out for people, and I would die for a friend, but I have never cared to look after myself. I have never cared about my own happiness because I never believed I could honestly be happy.

I’m 28 years old but I have lived close to a hundred years of stories and they seem to weigh in on me. I can feel it. I have lost my sanity in it all. I couldn’t handle it any longer.

The past four years I’ve listened to over hundreds of gigabytes of music. I have felt the truth behind the phrase ‘music is a safe place’. I have found comfort in the Taylor Swift’s and meaning in the Demon Hunters. They both provided a place for me to get lost into, and I needed that. I would’ve left you much earlier most probably if it wasn’t for music.

I’m leaving most of you with nothing more than questions and confusion, but the darkness I’ve lived through were even more confusing every single time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror.

To everyone who has loved me, I am so sorry. I have no idea how I got to this dark place while I knew you were there. I knew most of u were just a call or text away, any time of the day. So many times I wanted to 

just pick up the phone and say, “hey, I’m having a bad day. I’m having a hard time believing the truth about myself, but I never did. And the more I could not press ‘call’, the more I felt alone.

I started StayAliveFriend for the people I knew who struggled with their demons and needed a place to feel safe about it, but I never felt safe about my own. For some time I’ve found freedom in your braveness, but the heaviness I felt at night alone were too over-bearing.

Forgive me friends, family and everyone who believed in me. You were the very reason I held on for so long.

Every person that I’ve hurt that I haven’t had the chance to make amends with, I’m truly sorry for whatever it is I did to you.

We live in a world with so much pain. Not a day went by that I have not stepped out the door thinking about every person I’m meeting up with and wonder what pain they are hiding beneath perfectly made hair and shining shoes.

Please make the world a better place for yourself and the people you meet.

I know there’s a million better ways to cope than through this. I know if I had just talked to someone. I know things could have been better, but I did not, and things did not go better. I’m here. I’m ready. I’m gone.

Love,

Ivor