For the last week I have been waking each day to find a purpose. My life’s purpose is simple: make others’ lives easier by whatever means I can, in whatever capacity I can. I am a drug and alcohol counselor here on top of being a mentor, leader, friend and confidant to many.
But this past week something changed. My desire to get up diminished. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone because I’m supposed to be exempt from this feeling. I’m a helper, a healer, a voice for others. I have to get up. I have to keep going no matter what. I have a purpose I have to fulfill. I love my purpose, I love the people.
So here I sit suffering in literal and figurative silence, using every tool I provide daily to others to try and help myself. You see, for a week I contemplated suicide. I can openly share now because I’m no longer suicidal, nor do I have any plans to act on it. We all know the right words to use, right? I wrote and drew graphs and charts about my feelings and why I felt them. I examined every thought, feeling, and emotion in real time. I purposefully stayed alive. I did positive self-talk, though I did not believe it. I teach it, so it must work. I talk on…. you’re worthy of a good life, life gets better, you’re amazing.
I turned for help only to find no one there. I looked in the mirror and said, “You’re it.” I sat in darkness, pleaded with my heart to have mercy on me, called out to a God I hadn’t talked to in years. The feeling didn’t subside. I talked to a friend, who didn’t really hear me, so I smiled and moved on. I get it. I’m supposed to have all the answers, but I didn’t.
After being down twenty-six years on an LWOP sentence, I’m exhausted, as so many are. My struggle was not about hope, faith, or freedom. It was about my emotional and psychological well-being being compromised. Self-care, they call it. We don’t get a break to take care of ourselves. We don’t get a moment to exhale. So to move from this place of darkness, I had to change my thought pattern. This one percent of a feeling I share with you, I share because this is common with anyone doing time. No one is paying attention. But it is now my purpose to make sure people really get the care they need. We can sit in groups all day, go to college, attend religious services, seek mental health but most can’t share the most common of thoughts and feelings we go through with one another. Everyone seems to be on autopilot, doing what needs to be done. We continue to walk on by those whose eyes stop sparkling, whose light has dimmed, and chalk it up to a distorted perception—judging others instead of being that guiding hand. People are slipping into darkness for a reason, it’s not just your perception!
I speak for those who are in my shoes—silently suffering. Those who are afraid to use the resources of the state for it will come to bite us in the ass in the end. Check in with your friends. A smile is sometimes a frown turned upside down. Stop telling them it will be okay. You don’t know that! Stop saying, “You got this,” clearly, they don’t. Just listen. If you need someone to talk to, as I did, take a chance and reach out. I wish I had. We’re all just trying to make it in this place. Don’t suffer in silence; someone, somewhere, cares about you. Find them. Be that person for someone else.
