It literally was do or die. So I gave myself a week to let time decide which would be the result.

For the past seven weeks, I have been arguing against the despair that once drove me to suicide—

In that first week, I felt battered and weakened. Let me be clear: I don’t want to die; I don’t want to take my life. But I was feeling hopeless again, lost, and each waking minute, I couldn’t stop my mind from reigniting a singular repetition, “You're alone, you can’t escape, just end this now.”

Fighting this took so much effort, so much energy, and since almost all of my stress came from work, I had no forms of distraction and was left with only the routine of getting up—which was quickly becoming something I didn’t want to do. I literally cried with so much frustration while eating breakfast and then couldn’t eat for a week; that’s how bad things got.

I had to do something more than just completely give up. Which is ironic. Because on that same day, I did just that. I stayed at home, didn’t shower, turned off my phone, turned on my TV, and somehow slept on my couch for 16 hours, cuddling my dog like she was my blanket. When I woke up in the dark, I stared out my window and acknowledged that maybe there was nothing I could do to improve my situation. I did some math and felt like I had a week left before everything would truly be shit. So, I gave myself a week—a week where I’d stop being upset, where I would accept that I lost, but to just let myself be carefree understanding that I could control my exit seven days later. Yes, it was me acknowledging that at the end of the week, I might make the choice to end it all. But for now, I’d just let myself enjoy whatever time I had left and let time decide.

This might sound crazy—and maybe it is—but that week changed everything. My situation improved because I allowed myself to be happy in spite of everything. And in doing so I turned a corner because in a weird way my brain was now free to think again in a positive manner. That simple shift allowed me to come up with solutions and found the energy to just tackle everything that was piling up...and the best part, I was successful on nearly everything I committed too.

It's been about three weeks since that test of my grit. Challenges still remain, and setbacks are still there. But my mind continues to feel free and I keep leveling up where I'll be honest, I didn't think I would; and every few days I feel a new sense of hope that seems to be shackling up my depression and not my potential any longer.

I’m not sure what this is called,.... Progress? Crazy shit that works? Luck? I'll let you decide the lesson here, but by putting it all on the line and swiping away everything but the cold hold reality of my situation, I found a path forward.

Now, I doubt many of you will go so far as to put your life on the line like I did; but there has to be some way you can emulate that pathway on a less aggressive level, because something here worked.

In the meantime, if any of you are dealing with depression en route to suicide, reach out. I know talking is often the last thing on your mind, so consider this an invitation to just listen. I love to ramble, and in doing so, I often connect with people on a level that neither of us expects. But fair warning—if we start talking about science fiction, I will tell you all about how Star Trek invented the world…and when this motherfucker gets started, I go at warp 9.9.