Biblically, the number 8 represents new beginnings.
Eight years ago today, I attempted to take my own life. At the time, I had been thinking about it for a very long time. I had a plan for a very long time, but didn’t have the courage. I never feared death, I feared what would happen to me afterwards. Would I go to hell? But, like I explained in a previous post, I was already living in hell. For a really long time.
I needed an escape. The small glimmer of hope of things getting better kept me alive. But that night on 7/11/10, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was impulsive. It just took a fight with my parents and a fear that my dad would physically hurt me, to be the draw that broke the camel’s back.
Fast forward 8 years. It has been such a roller coaster. I have been really down many times, considering suicide once again. I have also felt moments of happiness that felt like spiritual bliss. I’m still not entirely sure why God didn’t let me die. I believe everyone has a purpose on this earth. I feel like I partially know mine, however, I also feel like I may have gotten it wrong?
Since college I have known that Isaiah 61:1-3 is my calling verse. I’m still not sure that I’m on the right path to fulfill that calling. I so often feel not qualified to be a therapist, when I still very much feel like I haven’t dealt with my own baggage yet. How could I possibly help others heal when I can’t even get it together? Or even when I’m doing well I’m still always triggered by clients!
So, for the time being, I’m just cruising through life. Trusting that if God has something else for me, He’ll open the door. I’m going to continue to go to work everyday and just do the best I can, for that day. When I feel helpless in a case, just pray for that client. And most importantly utilize my support system. My supervisor. My friends. My boyfriend. My therapist. I don’t think there’s much else I can do right now.
I’m thankful for the progress that I have made in eight years. I learn more and more about myself each day. I used to wait for the day where I would wake up and not be depressed anymore. Now, I’ve realized that this is a recurrent thing. I need to be attentive to my body and know when it’s coming. Know my warning signs. Teach the people who love me my warning signs. And theres nothing to be ashamed of with that.
I’m taking today, 8 years from the day I faced death, as a new beginning. A new day.
A new era to be alive.